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- <head>
- <title>
- Henrietta's Wish, by Charlotte M. Yonge
- </title>
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-
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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Henrietta's Wish, by Charlotte M. Yonge
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: Henrietta's Wish
-
-Author: Charlotte M. Yonge
-
-Release Date: April 8, 2009 [EBook #5124]
-Last Updated: October 12, 2016
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRIETTA'S WISH ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Sandra Laythorpe, the Victorian Women
-Writers Project at Indiana University, and David Widger
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <h1>
- HENRIETTA’S WISH;
- </h1>
- <h2>
- OR, DOMINEERING
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <h2>
- By Charlotte M. Yonge
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <blockquote>
- <p class="toc">
- <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- </blockquote>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I.
- </h2>
- <p>
- On the afternoon of a warm day in the end of July, an open carriage was
- waiting in front of the painted toy-looking building which served as the
- railway station of Teignmouth. The fine bay horses stood patiently
- enduring the attacks of hosts of winged foes, too well-behaved to express
- their annoyance otherwise than by twitchings of their sleek shining skins,
- but duly grateful to the coachman, who roused himself now and then to
- whisk off some more pertinacious tormentor with the end of his whip.
- </p>
- <p>
- Less patient was the sole occupant of the carriage, a maiden of about
- sixteen years of age, whose shady dark grey eyes, parted lips, and flushed
- complexion, were all full of the utmost eagerness, as every two or three
- minutes she looked up from the book which she held in her hand to examine
- the clock over the station door, compare it with her watch, and study the
- countenances of the bystanders to see whether they expressed any anxiety
- respecting the non-arrival of the train. All, however, seemed quite at
- their ease, and after a time the arrival of the railway omnibus and two or
- three other carriages, convinced her that the rest of the world only now
- began to consider it to be due. At last the ringing of a bell quickened
- everybody into a sudden state of activity, and assured her that the
- much-desired moment was come. The cloud of smoke was seen, the panting of
- the engine was heard, the train displayed its length before the station,
- men ran along tapping the doors of the carriages, and shouting a word
- which bore some distant resemblance to “Teignmouth,” and at the same
- moment various travellers emerged from the different vehicles.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her eye eagerly sought out one of these arrivals, who on his side, after a
- hasty greeting to the servant who met him on the platform, hurried to the
- carriage, and sprang into it. The two faces, exactly alike in form,
- complexion, and features, were for one moment pressed together, then
- withdrawn, in the consciousness of the publicity of the scene, but the
- hands remained locked together, and earnest was the tone of the “Well,
- Fred!” “Well, Henrietta!” which formed the greeting of the twin brother
- and sister.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And was not mamma well enough to come?” asked Frederick, as the carriage
- turned away from the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was afraid of the heat. She had some business letters to write
- yesterday, which teased her, and she has not recovered from them yet; but
- she has been very well, on the whole, this summer. But what of your school
- affairs, Fred? How did the examination go off?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am fourth, and Alex Langford fifth. Every one says the prize will lie
- between us next year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely,” said Henrietta, “you must be able to beat him then, if you are
- before him now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t make too sure, Henrietta,” said Frederick, shaking his head,
- “Langford is a hard-working fellow, very exact and accurate; I should not
- have been before him now if it had not been for my verses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know Beatrice is very proud of Alexander,” said Henrietta, “she would
- make a great deal of his success.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why of his more than of that of any other cousin?” said Frederick with
- some dissatisfaction.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O you know he is the only one of the Knight Sutton cousins whom she
- patronizes; all the others she calls cubs and bears and Osbaldistones. And
- indeed, Uncle Geoffrey says he thinks it was in great part owing to her
- that Alex is different from the rest. At least he began to think him worth
- cultivating from the time he found him and Busy Bee perched up together in
- an apple-tree, she telling him the story of Alexander the Great. And how
- she always talks about Alex when she is here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is she at Knight Sutton?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Aunt Geoffrey would not come here, because she did not wish to be
- far from London, because old Lady Susan has not been well. And only think,
- Fred, Queen Bee says there is a very nice house to be let close to the
- village, and they went to look at it with grandpapa, and he kept on saying
- how well it would do for us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, if we could but get mamma there!” said Fred. “What does she say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She knows the house, and says it is a very pleasant one,” said Henrietta;
- “but that is not an inch—no, not the hundredth part of an inch—towards
- going there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would surely be a good thing for her if she could but be brought to
- believe so,” said Frederick. “All her attachments are there—her own
- home; my father’s home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is nothing but the sea to be attached to, here,” said Henrietta.
- “Nobody can take root without some local interest, and as to acquaintance,
- the people are always changing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And there is nothing to do,” added Fred; “nothing possible but boating
- and riding, which are not worth the misery which they cause her, as Uncle
- Geoffrey says. It is very, very—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aggravating,” said Henrietta, supplying one of the numerous stock of
- family slang words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, aggravating,” said he with a smile, “to be placed under the
- necessity of being absurd, or of annoying her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Annoying! O, Fred, you do not know a quarter of what she goes through
- when she thinks you are in any danger. It could not be worse if you were
- on the field of battle! And it is very strange, for she is not at all a
- timid person for herself. In the boat, that time when the wind rose, I am
- sure Aunt Geoffrey was more afraid than she was, and I have seen it again
- and again that she is not easily frightened.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No: and I do not think she is afraid for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not as she is for you, Fred; but then boys are so much more precious than
- girls, and besides they love to endanger themselves so much, that I think
- that is reasonable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Geoffrey thinks there is something nervous and morbid in it,” said
- Fred: “he thinks that it is the remains of the horror of the sudden shock—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What? Our father’s accident?” asked Henrietta. “I never knew rightly
- about that. I only knew it was when we were but a week old.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one saw it happen,” said Fred; “he went out riding, his horse came
- home without him, and he was lying by the side of the road.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did they bring him home?” asked Henrietta, in the same low thrilling tone
- in which her brother spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but he never recovered his senses: he just said ‘Mary,’ once or
- twice, and only lived to the middle of the night!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Terrible!” said Henrietta, with a shudder. “O! how did mamma ever recover
- it?—at least, I do not think she has recovered it now,—but I
- meant live, or be even as well as she is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was fearfully ill for long after,” said Fred, “and Uncle Geoffrey
- thinks that these anxieties for me are an effect of the shock. He says
- they are not at all like her usual character. I am sure it is not to be
- wondered at.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no,” said Henrietta. “What a mystery it has always seemed to us
- about papa! She sometimes mentioning him in talking about her childish
- days and Knight Sutton, but if we tried to ask any more, grandmamma
- stopping us directly, till we learned to believe we ought never to utter
- his name. I do believe, though, that mamma herself would have found it a
- comfort to talk to us about him, if poor dear grandmamma had not always
- cut her short, for fear it should be too much for her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But had you not always an impression of something dreadful about his
- death?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, yes; I do not know how we acquired it, but that I am sure we had,
- and it made us shrink from asking any questions, or even from talking to
- each other about it. All I knew I heard from Beatrice. Did Uncle Geoffrey
- tell you this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, he told me when he was here last Easter, and I was asking him to
- speak to mamma about my fishing, and saying how horrid it was to be kept
- back from everything. First he laughed, and said it was the penalty of
- being an only son, and then he entered upon this history, to show me how
- it is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is very odd that she should have let you learn to ride, which one
- would have thought she would have dreaded most of all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was because she thought it right, he says. Poor mamma, she said to
- him, ‘Geoffrey, if you think it right that Fred should begin to ride,
- never mind my folly.’ He says that he thinks it cost her as much
- resolution to say that as it might to be martyred. And the same about
- going to school.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes; exactly,” said Henrietta, “if she thinks it is right, bear it
- she will, cost her what it may! O there is nobody like mamma. Busy Bee
- says so, and she knows, living in London and seeing so many people as she
- does.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never saw anyone so like a queen,” said Fred. “No, nor anyone so
- beautiful, though she is so pale and thin. People say you are like her in
- her young days, Henrietta; and to be sure, you have a decent face of your
- own, but you will never be as beautiful as mamma, not if you live to be a
- hundred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are afraid to compliment my face because it is so like your own,
- Master Fred,” retorted his sister; “but one comfort is, that I shall grow
- more like her by living to a hundred, whereas you will lose all the little
- likeness you have, and grow a grim old Black-beard! But I was going to
- say, Fred, that, though I think there is a great deal of truth in what
- Uncle Geoffrey said, yet I do believe that poor grandmamma made it worse.
- You know she had always been in India, and knew less about boys than
- mamma, who had been brought up with papa and my uncles, so she might
- really believe that everything was dangerous; and I have often seen her
- quite as much alarmed, or more perhaps, about you—her consolations
- just showing that she was in a dreadful fright, and making mamma twice as
- bad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” said Fred, sighing, “that is all over now, and she thought she was
- doing it all for the best.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And,” proceeded Henrietta, “I think, and Queen Bee thinks, that this
- perpetual staying on at Rocksand was more owing to her than to mamma. She
- imagined that mamma could not bear the sight of Knight Sutton, and that it
- was a great kindness to keep her from thinking of moving—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, and that nobody can doctor her but Mr. Clarke,” added Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Till now, I really believe,” said Henrietta, “that the possibility of
- moving has entirely passed out of her mind, and she no more believes that
- she can do it than that the house can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Fred, “I do not think a journey occurs to her among events
- possible, and yet without being very fond of this place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fond! O no! it never was meant to be a home, and has nothing homelike
- about it! All her affections are really at Knight Sutton, and if she once
- went there, she would stay and be so much happier among her own friends,
- instead of being isolated here with me. In grandmamma’s time it was not so
- bad for her, but now she has no companion at all but me. Rocksand has all
- the loneliness of the country without its advantages.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is not much complaint as to happiness, after all,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, O no! but then it is she who makes it delightful, and it cannot be
- well for her to have no one to depend upon but me. Besides, how useless
- one is here. No opportunity of doing anything for the poor people, no
- clergyman who will put one into the way of being useful. O how nice it
- would be at Knight Sutton!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And perhaps she would be cured of her fears,” added Fred; “she would find
- no one to share them, and be convinced by seeing that the cousins there
- come to no harm. I wish Uncle Geoffrey would recommend it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, we will see what we can do,” said Henrietta. “I do think we may
- persuade her, and I think we ought; it would be for her happiness and for
- yours, and on all accounts I am convinced that it ought to be done.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And as Henrietta came to this serious conclusion, they entered the steep
- straggling street of the little town of Rocksand, and presently were
- within the gates of the sweep which led to the door of the verandahed
- Gothic cottage, which looked very tempting for summer’s lodging, but was
- little fitted for a permanent abode.
- </p>
- <p>
- In spite of all the longing wishes expressed during the drive, no
- ancestral home, beloved by inheritance, could have been entered with more
- affectionate rapture than that with which Frederick Langford sprung from
- the carriage, and flew to the arms of his mother, receiving and returning
- such a caress as could only be known by a boy conscious that he had done
- nothing to forfeit home love and confidence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Turning back the fair hair that hung over his forehead, Mrs. Langford
- looked into his eyes, saying, half-interrogatively, half-affirmatively,
- “All right, Fred? Nothing that we need be afraid to tell Uncle Geoffrey?
- Well, Henrietta, he is grown, but he has not passed you yet. And now,
- Freddy, tell us about your examination,” added she, as fondly leaning on
- his arm, she proceeded into the drawing-room, and they sat down together
- on the sofa, talking eagerly and joyously.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Frederick Henry Langford, to give her her proper style, was in truth
- one whose peculiar loveliness of countenance well deserved the admiration
- expressed by her son. It was indeed pale and thin, but the features were
- beautifully formed, and had that expression of sweet placid resignation
- which would have made a far plainer face beautiful. The eyes were deep
- dark blue, and though sorrow and suffering had dimmed their brightness,
- their softness was increased; the smile was one of peace, of love, of
- serenity; of one who, though sorrow-stricken, as it were, before her time,
- had lived on in meek patience and submission, almost a child in her ways,
- as devoted to her mother, as little with a will and way of her own, as
- free from the cares of this work-a-day world. The long luxuriant dark
- brown hair, which once, as now with Henrietta, had clustered in thick
- glossy ringlets over her comb and round her face, was in thick braids
- beneath the delicate lace cap which suited with her plain black silk
- dress. Her figure was slender, so tall that neither her well-grown son nor
- daughter had yet reached her height, and, as Frederick said, with
- something queenlike in its unconscious grace and dignity.
- </p>
- <p>
- As a girl she had been the merriest of the merry, and even now she had
- great playfulness of manner, and threw herself into the occupation of the
- moment with a life and animation that gave an uncommon charm to her
- manners, so that how completely sorrow had depressed and broken her spirit
- would scarcely have been guessed by one who had not known her in earlier
- days.
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederick’s account of his journey and of his school news was heard and
- commented on, a work of time extending far into the dinner; the next
- matter in the regular course of conversation on the day of arrival was to
- talk over Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey’s proceedings, and the Knight Sutton
- affairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So, Uncle Geoffrey has been in the North?” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, on a special retainer,” said Mrs. Langford, “and very much he seems
- to have enjoyed his chance of seeing York Cathedral.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He wrote to me in court,” said Fred, “to tell me what books I had better
- get up for this examination, and on a bit of paper scribbled all over one
- side with notes of the evidence. He said the Cathedral was beautiful
- beyond all he ever imagined.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Had he never seen it before?” said Henrietta. “Lawyers seem made to
- travel in their vacations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Geoffrey could not be spared,” said her mamma; “I do not know what
- Grandmamma Langford would do if he cheated her of any more of his holidays
- than he bestows upon us. He is far too valuable to be allowed to take his
- own pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Besides, his own pleasure is at Knight Sutton,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He goes home just as he used from school,” said Mrs. Langford. “Indeed,
- except a few grey hairs and crows feet, he is not in the least altered
- from those days; his work and play come in just the same way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And, as his daughter says, he is just as much the home pet,” added
- Henrietta, “only rivalled by Busy Bee herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Fred, “according to Aunt Geoffrey, there are two suns in one
- sphere: Queen Bee is grandpapa’s pet, Uncle Geoffrey grandmamma’s. It must
- be great fun to see them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Happy people!” said Mrs. Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta says,” proceeded Fred, “that there is a house to be let at
- Knight Sutton.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Pleasance; yes, I know it well,” said his mother: “it is not actually
- in the parish, but close to the borders, and a very pretty place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With a pretty little stream in the garden, Fred, “said Henrietta, “and
- looking into that beautiful Sussex coom, that there is a drawing of in
- mamma’s room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What size is it?” added Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The comparative degree,” said Mrs. Langford, “but my acquaintance with it
- does not extend beyond the recollection of a pretty-looking drawing-room
- with French windows, and a lawn where I used to be allowed to run about
- when I went with Grandmamma Langford to call on the old Miss Drakes. I
- wonder your Uncle Roger does not take it, for those boys can scarcely, I
- should think, be wedged into Sutton Leigh when they are all at home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish some one else would take it,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some one,” added Henrietta, “who would like it of all things, and be
- quite at home there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A person,” proceeded the boy, “who likes Knight Sutton and its
- inhabitants better than anything else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only think,” joined in the young lady, “how delightful it would be. I can
- just fancy you, mamma, sitting out on this lawn you talk of, on a summer’s
- day, and nursing your pinks and carnations, and listening to the
- nightingales, and Grandpapa and Grandmamma Langford, and Uncle and Aunt
- Roger, and the cousins coming walking in at any time without ringing at
- the door! And how nice to have Queen Bee and Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey all
- the vacation!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Without feeling as if we were robbing Knight Sutton,” said Mrs. Langford.
- “Why, we should have you a regular little country maid, Henrietta, riding
- shaggy ponies, and scrambling over hedges, as your mamma did before you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And being as happy as a queen,” said Henrietta; “and the poor people, you
- know them all, don’t you, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know their names, but my generation must have nearly passed away. But I
- should like you to see old Daniels the carpenter, whom the boys used to
- work with, and who was so fond of them. And the old schoolmistress in her
- spectacles. How she must be scandalized by the introduction of a noun and
- a verb!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who has been so cruel?” asked Fred. “Busy Bee, I suppose.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Henrietta, “she teaches away with all her might; but she says
- she is afraid they will forget it all while she is in London, for there is
- no one to keep it up. Now, I could do that nicely. How I should like to be
- Queen Bee’s deputy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” said Fred, “how does Beatrice manage to make grandmamma endure such
- novelties? I should think she would disdain them more than the old
- mistress herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Queen Bee’s is not merely a nominal sovereignty,” said Mrs. Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Besides,” said Henrietta, “the new Clergyman approves of all that sort of
- thing; he likes her to teach, and puts her in the way of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II.
- </h2>
- <p>
- From this time forward everything tended towards Knight Sutton: castles in
- the air, persuasions, casual words which showed the turn of thought of the
- brother and sister, met their mother every hour. Nor was she, as Henrietta
- truly said, entirely averse to the change; she loved to talk of what she
- still regarded as her home, but the shrinking dread of the pang it must
- give to return to the scene of her happiest days, to the burial-place of
- her husband, to the abode of his parents, had been augmented by the tender
- over-anxious care of her mother, Mrs. Vivian, who had strenuously
- endeavoured to prevent her from ever taking such a proposal into
- consideration, and fairly led her at length to believe it out of the
- question.
- </p>
- <p>
- A removal would in fact have been impossible during the latter years of
- Mrs. Vivian’s life: but she had now been dead about eighteen months, her
- daughter had recovered from the first grief of her loss, and there was a
- general impression throughout the family that now was the time for her to
- come amongst them again. For herself, the possibility was but beginning to
- dawn upon her; just at first she joined in building castles and imagining
- scenes at Knight Sutton, without thinking of their being realized, or that
- it only depended upon her, to find herself at home there; and when
- Frederick and Henrietta, encouraged by this manner of talking, pressed it
- upon her, she would reply with some vague intention of a return some time
- or other, but still thinking of it as something far away, and rather to be
- dreaded than desired.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was chiefly by dint of repetition that it fully entered her mind that
- it was their real and earnest wish that she should engage to take a lease
- of the Pleasance, and remove almost immediately from her present abode;
- and from this time it might be perceived that she always shrank from
- entering on the subject in a manner which gave them little reason to hope.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yet, I think,” said Henrietta to her brother one afternoon as they were
- walking together on the sands; “I think if she once thought it was right,
- if Uncle Geoffrey would tell her so, or if grandpapa would really tell her
- that he wished it, I am quite sure that she would resolve upon it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why did he not do so long ago?” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O! because of grandmamma, I suppose,” said Henrietta; “but he really does
- wish it, and I should not at all wonder if the Busy Bee could put it into
- his head to do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Or if Uncle Geoffrey would advise her,” said Fred; “but it never answers
- to try to make him propose anything to her. He never will do it; he always
- says he is not the Pope, or something to that effect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I was not fully convinced that it was right, and the best for all
- parties, I would not say so much about it,” said Henrietta, in a tone
- rather as if she was preparing for some great sacrifice, instead of
- domineering over her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- To domineering, her temptation was certainly great. With all her good
- sense and ability, Mrs. Langford had seldom been called upon to decide for
- herself, but had always relied upon her mother for counsel; and during her
- long and gradual decline had learnt to depend upon her brother-in-law, Mr.
- Geoffrey Langford, for direction in great affairs, and in lesser ones upon
- her children. Girls are generally older of their age than boys, and
- Henrietta, a clever girl and her mother’s constant companion, occupied a
- position in the family which amounted to something more than prime
- minister. Some one person must always be leader, and thus she had
- gradually attained, or had greatness thrust upon her; for justice requires
- it to be stated, that she more frequently tried to know her mamma’s mind
- for her, than to carry her own point, though perhaps to do so always was
- more than could be expected of human nature at sixteen. The habit of being
- called on to settle whether they should use the britska or the pony
- carriage, whether satin or silk was best, or this or that book should be
- ordered, was, however, sufficient to make her very unwilling to be
- thwarted in other matters of more importance, especially in one on which
- were fixed the most ardent hopes of her brother, and the wishes of all the
- family.
- </p>
- <p>
- Their present abode was, as she often said to herself, not the one best
- calculated for the holiday sports of a boy of sixteen, yet Frederick,
- having been used to nothing else, was very happy, and had tastes formed on
- their way of life. The twins, as little children, had always had the same
- occupations, Henrietta learning Latin, marbles, and trap-ball, and
- Frederick playing with dolls and working cross-stitch; and even now the
- custom was so far continued, that he gave lessons in Homer and Euclid for
- those which he received in Italian and music. For present amusement there
- was no reason to complain; the neighbourhood supplied many beautiful
- walks, while longer expeditions were made with Mrs. Langford in the pony
- carriage, and sketching, botanizing, and scrambling, were the order of the
- day. Boating too was a great delight, and had it not been for an
- occasional fretting recollection that he could not go out sailing without
- his mamma, and that most of his school fellows were spending their
- holidays in a very different manner, he would have been perfectly happy.
- Fortunately he had not sufficient acquaintance with the boys in the
- neighbourhood for the contrast to be often brought before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta did not do much to reconcile him to the anxious care with which
- he was guarded. She was proud of his talents, of his accomplishments, of
- his handsome features, and she would willingly have been proud of his
- excellence in manly sports, but in lieu of this she was proud of the
- spirit which made him long for them, and encouraged it by her full and
- entire sympathy. The belief that the present restraints must be diminished
- at Knight Sutton, was a moving spring with her, as much as her own wish
- for the scenes round which imagination had thrown such a brilliant halo.
- Of society they had hitherto seen little or nothing; Mrs. Langford’s
- health and spirits had never been equal to visiting, nor was there much to
- tempt her in the changing inhabitants of a watering-place. Now and then,
- perhaps, an old acquaintance or distant connexion of some part of the
- family came for a month or six weeks, and a few calls were exchanged, and
- it was one of these visits that led to the following conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the by, mamma,” said Fred, “I meant to ask you what that foolish woman
- meant about the St. Legers, and their not having thoroughly approved of
- Aunt Geoffrey’s marriage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “About the most ill-placed thing she could have said, Freddy,” replied
- Mrs. Langford, “considering that I was always accused of having made the
- match.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Made the match! O tell us, mamma; tell us all about it. Did you really?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not consciously; Fred, and Frank St. Leger deserves as much of the credit
- as I do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who was he? a brother of Aunt Geoffrey’s?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, Fred,” said Henrietta, “to be sure you knew that. You have heard
- how mamma came home from India with General St. Leger and his little boy
- and girl. But by the by, mamma, what became of their mother?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lady Beatrice? She died in India just before we came home. Well, I used
- to stay with them after we came back to England, and of course talked to
- my friend—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Call her Beatrice, mamma, and make a story of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I talked to her about my Knight Sutton home, and cousins, and on the
- other hand, then, Frank was always telling her about his school friend
- Geoffrey Langford. At last Frank brought him home from Oxford one Easter
- vacation. It was when the general was in command at ——, and
- Beatrice was in the midst of all sorts of gaieties, the mistress of the
- house, entertaining everybody, and all exactly what a novel would call
- brilliant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Were you there, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Beatrice had made a point of our coming to stay with her, and very
- droll it was to see how she and Geoffrey were surprised at each other; she
- to find her brother’s guide, philosopher, and friend, the Langford who had
- gained every prize, a boyish-looking, boyish-mannered youth, very shy at
- first, and afterwards, excellent at giggling and making giggle; and he to
- find one with the exterior of a fine gay lady, so really simple in tastes
- and habits.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was Aunt Geoffrey ever pretty?” asked Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is just what she was then, a little brown thing with no actual beauty
- but in her animation and in her expression. I never saw a really handsome
- person who seemed to me nearly as charming. Then she had, and indeed has
- now, so much air and grace, so much of what, for want of a better word, I
- must call fashion in her appearance, that she was always very striking.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Henrietta, “I can quite see that; it is not gracefulness, and
- it is not beauty, nor is it what she ever thinks of, but there is
- something distinguished about her. I should look twice at her if I met her
- in the street, and expect her to get into a carriage with a coronet. And
- then and there they fell in love, did they?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In long morning expeditions with the ostensible purpose of sketching, but
- in which I had all the drawing to myself, while the others talked either
- wondrous wisely or wondrous drolly. However, you must not suppose that
- anything of the novel kind was said then; Geoffrey was only twenty, and
- Beatrice seemed as much out of his reach as the king’s daughter of
- Hongarie.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, of course,” said Henrietta, “but that only makes it more
- delightful! Only to think of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey having a novel in
- their history.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That there are better novels in real life than in stories, is a truth or
- a truism often repeated, Henrietta,” said her mother with a soft sigh,
- which she repressed in an instant, and proceeded: “Poor Frank’s illness
- and death at Oxford brought them together the next year in a very
- different manner. Geoffrey was one of his chief nurses to the last, and
- was a great comfort to them all; you may suppose how grateful they were to
- him. Next time I saw him, he seemed quite to have buried his youthful
- spirits in his studies: he was reading morning, noon, and night, and
- looking ill and overworked.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Uncle Geoffrey! dear good Uncle Geoffrey,” cried Henrietta, in an
- ecstasy; “you were as delightful as a knight of old, only as you could not
- fight tournaments for her, you were obliged to read for her; and pining
- away all the time and saying nothing about it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing beyond a demure inquiry of me when we were alone together, after
- the health of the General. Well, you know how well his reading succeeded;
- he took a double first class, and very proud of him we were.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And still he saw nothing of her,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not till some time after he had been settled in his chambers at the
- Temple. Now you must know that General St. Leger, though in most matters a
- wise man, was not by any means so in money matters: and by some unlucky
- speculation which was to have doubled his daughter’s fortune, managed to
- lose the whole of it, leaving little but his pay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Capital!” cried Frederick, “that brings her down to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it did,” said his mother, smiling; “but the spectators did not rejoice
- quite so heartily as you do. The general’s health was failing, and it was
- hard to think what would become of Beatrice; for Lord St. Leger’s family,
- though very kind, were not more congenial than they are now. As soon as
- all this was pretty well known, Geoffrey spoke, and the general, who was
- very fond of him, gave full consent. They meant to wait until it was
- prudent, of course, and were well contented; but just after it was all
- settled, the general had a sudden seizure, and died. Geoffrey was with
- him, and he treated him like a son, saying it was his great comfort to
- know that her happiness was in his hands. Poor Beatrice, she went first to
- the St. Legers, stayed with them two or three months, then I would have
- her to be my bridesmaid, though”—and Mrs. Langford tried to smile,
- while again she strangled a sobbing sigh—“she warned me that her
- mourning was a bad omen. Well, she stayed with my mother while we went
- abroad, and on our return went with us to be introduced at Knight Sutton.
- Everybody was charmed, Mrs. Langford and Aunt Roger had expected a fine
- lady or a blue one, but they soon learnt to believe all her gaiety and all
- her cleverness a mere calumny, and grandpapa was delighted with her the
- first moment. How well I remember Geoffrey’s coming home and thanking us
- for having managed so well as to make her like one of the family, while
- the truth was that she had fitted herself in, and found her place from the
- first moment. Now came a time of grave private conferences. A long
- engagement which might have been very well if the general had lived, was a
- dreary prospect now that Beatrice was without a home; but then your uncle
- was but just called to the bar, and had next to nothing of his own,
- present or to come. However, he had begun his literary works, and found
- them answer so well, that he believed he could maintain himself till
- briefs came in, and he had the sort of talent which gives confidence. He
- thought, too, that even in the event of his death she would be better off
- as one of us, than as a dependent on the St. Legers; and at last by
- talking to us, he nearly persuaded himself to believe it would be a very
- prudent thing to marry. It was a harder matter to persuade his father, but
- persuade him he did, and the wedding was at Knight Sutton that very
- summer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s right,” cried Fred, “excellent and glorious! A farthing for all
- the St. Legers put together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nevertheless, Fred, in spite of your disdain, we were all of opinion that
- it was a matter of rejoicing that Lord St. Leger and Lady Amelia were
- present, so that no one had any reason to say that they disapproved.
- Moreover, lest you should learn imprudence from my story, I would also
- suggest that if your uncle and aunt had not been a couple comme il-y-en a
- peu, it would neither have been excellent nor glorious.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, they are very well off,” said Fred; “he is quite at the head of his
- profession. The first thing a fellow asks me when he hears my name is, if
- I belong to Langford the barrister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but he never would have been eminent, scarcely have had daily bread,
- if he had not worked fearfully hard, so hard that without the buoyant
- school-boy spirit, which can turn from the hardest toil like a child to
- its play, his health could never have stood it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But then it has been success and triumph,” said Fred; “one could work
- like a galley-slave with encouragement, and never feel it drudgery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was not all success at first,” said his mother; “there was hard work,
- and disappointment, and heavy sorrow too; but they knew how to bear it,
- and to win through with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And were they very poor?” asked Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes: but it was beautiful to see how she accommodated herself to it. The
- house that once looked dingy and desolate, was very soon pretty and
- cheerful, and the wirtschaft so well ordered and economical, that Aunt
- Roger was struck dumb with admiration. I shall not forget Lady Susan’s
- visit the last morning we spent with her in London, how amazed she was to
- find ‘poor Beatrice’ looking so bright and like herself, and how little
- she guessed at her morning’s work, the study of shirt-making, and the
- copying out a review of her husband’s, full of Greek quotations.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, the poverty is all over now,” said Henrietta; “but still they live
- in a very quiet way, considering Aunt Geoffrey’s connexions and the
- fortune he has made.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who put that notion into your head, my wise daughter?” said Mrs.
- Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta blushed, laughed, and mentioned Lady Matilda St. Leger, a cousin
- of her aunt Geoffrey’s of whom she had seen something in the last year.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The truth is,” said Mrs. Langford, “that your aunt had display and luxury
- enough in her youth to value it as it deserves, and he could not desire it
- except for her sake. They had rather give with a free hand, beyond what
- any one knows or suspects.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! I know among other things that he sends Alexander to school,” said
- Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, and the improvements at Knight Sutton,” said Henrietta, “the school,
- and all that grandpapa wished but could never afford. Well, mamma, if you
- made the match, you deserve to be congratulated on your work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s nobody like Uncle Geoffrey, I have said, and shall always
- maintain,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- His mother sighed, saying, “I don’t know what we should have done without
- him!” and became silent. Henrietta saw an expression on her countenance
- which made her unwilling to disturb her, and nothing more was said till it
- was discovered that it was bed time.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III.
- </h2>
- <p>
- “Where is Madame?” asked Frederick of his sister, as she entered the
- breakfast room alone the next morning with the key of the tea-chest in her
- hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A headache,” answered Henrietta, “and a palpitation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A bad one?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, very; and I am afraid it is our fault, Freddy; I am convinced it
- will not do, and we must give it up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you mean? The going to Knight Sutton? What has that to do with it?
- Is it the reviving old recollections that is too much for her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just listen what an effect last evening’s conversation had upon her. Last
- night, after I had been asleep a long time, I woke up, and there I saw her
- kneeling before the table with her hands over her face. Just then it
- struck one, and soon after she got into bed. I did not let her know I was
- awake, for speaking would only have made it worse, but I am sure she did
- not sleep all night, and this morning she had one of her most
- uncomfortable fits of palpitation. She had just fallen asleep, when I
- looked in after dressing, but I do not think she will be fit to come down
- to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And do you think it was talking of Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey that brought
- it on?” said Fred, with much concern; “yet it did not seem to have much to
- do with my father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O but it must,” said Henrietta. “He must have been there all the time
- mixed up in everything. Queen Bee has told me how they were always
- together when they were children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! perhaps; and I noticed how she spoke about her wedding,” said Fred.
- “Yes, and to compare how differently it has turned out with Aunt Geoffrey
- and with her, after they had been young and happy together. Yes, no doubt
- it was he who persuaded the people at Knight Sutton into letting them
- marry!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And their sorrow that she spoke of must have been his death,” said
- Henrietta. “No doubt the going over those old times renewed all those
- thoughts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you think going to Knight Sutton might have the same effect. Well, I
- suppose we must give it up,” said Fred, with a sigh. “After all, we can be
- very happy here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes! that we can. It is more on your account than mine, that I wished
- it,” said the sister.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I should not have thought so much of it, if I had not thought it
- would be pleasanter for you when I am away,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so,” said Henrietta, laughing yet sighing, “we agree to persuade each
- other that we don’t care about it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred performed a grimace, and remarked that if Henrietta continued to make
- her tea so scalding, there would soon be a verdict against her of
- fratricide; but the observation, being intended to conceal certain
- feelings of disappointment and heroism, only led to silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- After sleeping for some hours, Mrs. Langford awoke refreshed, and got up,
- but did not leave her room. Frederick and Henrietta went to take a walk by
- her desire, as she declared that she preferred being alone, and on their
- return they found her lying on the sofa.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma has been in mischief,” said Fred. “She did not think herself
- knocked up enough already, so she has been doing it more thoroughly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, mamma!” was Henrietta’s reproachful exclamation, as she looked at her
- pale face and red swollen eyelids.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind, my dears,” said she, trying to smile, “I shall be better now
- this is done, and I have it off my mind.” They looked at her in anxious
- interrogation, and she smiled outright with lip and eye. “You will seal
- that letter with a good will, Henrietta,” she said. “It is to ask Uncle
- Geoffrey to make inquiries about the Pleasance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma!” and they stood transfixed at a decision beyond their hopes: then
- Henrietta exclaimed—
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, mamma, it will be too much for you; you must not think of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Fred; “indeed we agreed this morning that it would be better
- not. Put it out of your head, mamma, and go on here in peace and comfort.
- I am sure it suits you best.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, thank you, my dear ones,” said she, drawing them towards her,
- and fondly kissing them, “but it is all settled, and I am sure it is
- better for you. It is but a dull life for you here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no, no, dearest mamma: nothing can be dull with you,” cried
- Henrietta, wishing most sincerely to undo her own work. “We are, indeed we
- are, as happy as the day is long. Do not fancy we are discontented; do not
- think we want a change.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford replied by an arch though subdued smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But we would not have you to do it on our account,” said Fred. “Pray put
- it out of your head, for we do very well here, and it was only a passing
- fancy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will not talk me out of it, my dears,” said Mrs. Langford. “I know it
- is right, and it shall be done. It is only the making up my mind that was
- the struggle, and I shall look forward to it as much as either of you,
- when I know it is to be done. Now walk off, my dears, and do not let that
- letter be too late for the post.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not half like it,” said Fred, pausing at the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have not many fears on that score,” said she, smiling. “No, do not be
- uneasy about me, my dear Fred, it is my proper place, and I must be happy
- there. I shall like to be near the Hall, and to see all the dear old
- places again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, mamma, you cannot talk about them without your voice quivering,” said
- Henrietta. “You do not know how I wish you would give it up!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give it up! I would not for millions,” said Mrs. Langford. “Now go, my
- dears, and perhaps I shall go to sleep again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The spirits of the brother and sister did not just at first rise enough
- for rejoicing over the decision. Henrietta would willingly have kept back
- the letter, but this she could not do; and sealing it as if she were doing
- wrong, she sat down to dinner, feeling subdued and remorseful, something
- like a tyrant between the condemnation and execution of his victim. But by
- the time the first course was over, and she and Frederick had begun to
- recollect their long-cherished wishes, they made up their minds to be
- happy, and fell into their usual strain of admiration of the unknown haven
- of their hopes, and of expectations that it would in the end benefit their
- mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning she was quite in her usual spirits, and affairs proceeded
- in the usual manner; Frederick’s holidays came to an end, and he returned
- to school with many a fond lamentation from the mother and sister, but
- with cheerful auguries from both that the next meeting might be at Knight
- Sutton.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, Henrietta,” said her mother, as they sat at breakfast together a
- day or two after Frederick’s departure, turning over to her the letter of
- which she had first broken the seal, while she proceeded to open some
- others. It was Uncle Geoffrey’s writing, and Henrietta read eagerly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “MY DEAR MARY,—I would not write till I could give you some positive
- information about the Pleasance, and that could not be done without a
- conference with Hardy, who was not at home. I am heartily glad that you
- think of coming among us again, but still I should like to feel certain
- that it is you that feel equal to it, and not the young ones who are set
- upon the plan. I suppose you will indignantly refute the charge, but you
- know I have never trusted you in that matter. However, we are too much the
- gainers to investigate motives closely, and I cannot but believe that the
- effort once over, you would find it a great comfort to be among your own
- people, and in your own country. I fully agree with you also in what you
- say of the advantage to Henrietta and Fred. My father is going to write,
- and I must leave him to do justice to his own cordiality, and proceed to
- business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came the particulars of freehold and copyhold, purchase or lease,
- repair or disrepair, of which Henrietta knew nothing, and cared less; she
- knew that her mamma was considered a great heiress, and trusted to her
- wealth for putting all she pleased in her power: but it was rather
- alarming to recollect that Uncle Geoffrey would consider it right to make
- the best terms he could, and that the house might be lost to them while
- they were bargaining for it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, mamma, never mind what he says about its being dear,” said she, “I
- dare say it will not ruin us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not exactly,” said Mrs. Langford, smiling, “but gentlemen consider it a
- disgrace not to make a good bargain, and Uncle Geoffrey must be allowed to
- have his own way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O but, mamma, suppose some one else should take it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A village house is not like these summer lodgings, which are snapped up
- before you can look at them,” said Mrs. Langford; “I have no fears but
- that it is to be had.” But Henrietta could not help fancying that her
- mother would regard it somewhat as a reprieve, if the bargain was to go
- off independently of any determination of hers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still she had made up her mind to look cheerfully at the scheme, and often
- talked of it with pleasure, to which the cordial and affectionate letters
- of her father-in-law and the rest of the family, conduced not a little.
- She now fully perceived that it had only been from forbearance, that they
- had not before urged her return, and as she saw how earnestly it was
- desired by Mr. and Mrs. Langford, reproached herself as for a weakness for
- not having sooner resolved upon her present step. Henrietta’s work was
- rather to keep up her spirits at the prospect, than to prevent her from
- changing her purpose, which never altered, respecting a return to the
- neighbourhood of Knight Sutton, though whether to the house of the
- tempting name, was a question which remained in agitation during the rest
- of the autumn, for as surely as Rome was not built in a day, so surely
- cannot a house be bought or sold in a day, especially when a clever and
- cautious lawyer acts for one party.
- </p>
- <p>
- Matters thus dragged on, till the space before the Christmas holidays was
- reckoned by weeks, instead of months, and as Mrs. Frederick Langford
- laughingly said, she should be fairly ashamed to meet her boy again at
- their present home. She therefore easily allowed herself to be persuaded
- to accept Mr. Langford’s invitation to take up her quarters at the Hall,
- and look about her a little before finally deciding upon the Pleasance.
- Christmas at Knight Sutton Hall had the greatest charms in the eyes of
- Henrietta and Frederick; for many a time had they listened to the
- descriptions given con amore by Beatrice Langford, to whom that place had
- ever been a home, perhaps the more beloved, because the other half of her
- life was spent in London.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a great disappointment, however, to hear that Mrs. Geoffrey
- Langford was likely to be detained in London by the state of health of her
- aunt, Lady Susan St. Leger, whom she did not like to leave, while no other
- of the family was at hand. This was a cruel stroke, but she could not bear
- that her husband should miss his yearly holiday, her daughter lose the
- pleasure of a fortnight with Henrietta, or Mr. and Mrs. Langford be
- deprived of the visit of their favourite son: and she therefore arranged
- to go and stay with Lady Susan, while Beatrice and her father went as
- usual to Knight Sutton.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford offered to escort his sister-in-law from Devonshire,
- but she did not like his holidays to be so wasted. She had no merely
- personal apprehensions, and new as railroads were to her, declared herself
- perfectly willing and able to manage with no companions but her daughter
- and maid, with whom she was to travel to his house in London, there to be
- met in a day or two by the two school-boys, Frederick and his cousin
- Alexander, and then proceed all together to Knight Sutton.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta could scarcely believe that the long-wished-for time was really
- come, packing up actually commencing, and that her waking would find her
- under a different roof from that which she had never left. She did not
- know till now that she had any attachments to the place she had hitherto
- believed utterly devoid of all interest; but she found she could not bid
- it farewell without sorrow. There was the old boatman with his rough
- kindly courtesy, and his droll ways of speaking; there was the rocky beach
- where she and her brother had often played on the verge of the ocean,
- watching with mysterious awe or sportive delight the ripple of the
- advancing waves, the glorious sea itself, the walks, the woods, streams,
- and rocks, which she now believed, as mamma and Uncle Geoffrey had often
- told her, were more beautiful than anything she was likely to find in
- Sussex. Other scenes there were, connected with her grandmother, which she
- grieved much at parting with, but she shunned talking over her regrets,
- lest she should agitate her mother, whom she watched with great anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was glad that so much business was on her hands, as to leave little
- time for dwelling on her feelings, to which she attributed the calm
- quietness with which she went through the few trying days that immediately
- preceded their departure. Henrietta felt this constant employment so great
- a relief to her own spirits, that she was sorry on her own account, as
- well as her mother’s, when every possible order had been given, every box
- packed, and nothing was to be done, but to sit opposite to each other, on
- each side of the fire, in the idleness which precedes candle-light. Her
- mother leant back in silence, and she watched her with an anxious gaze.
- She feared to say anything of sympathy with what she supposed her feeling,
- lest she should make her weep. An indifferent speech would be out of place
- even if Henrietta herself could have made it, and yet to remain silent was
- to allow melancholy thoughts to prey upon her. So thought the daughter,
- longing at the same time that her persuasions were all unsaid.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come here, my dear child,” said her mother presently, and Henrietta
- almost started at the calmness of the voice, and the serenity of the
- tranquil countenance. She crossed to her mother, and sat down on a low
- footstool, leaning against her. “You are very much afraid for me,”
- continued Mrs. Langford, as she remarked upon the anxious expression of
- her face, far different from her own, “but you need not fear, it is all
- well with me; it would be wrong not to be thankful for those who are not
- really lost to me as well as for those who were given to me here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- All Henrietta’s consideration for her mother could not prevent her from
- bursting into tears. “O mamma, I did not know it would be so like going
- away from dear grandmamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Try to feel the truth, my dear, that our being near to her depends on
- whether we are in our duty or not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, but this place is so full of her! I do so love it! I did not
- know it till now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, we must always love it, my dear child; but we are going to our home,
- Henrietta, to your father’s home in life and death, and it must be good
- for us to be there. With your grandfather, who has wished for us. Knight
- Sutton is our true home, the one where it is right for us to be.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta still wept bitterly, and strange it was that it should be she
- who stood in need of consolation, for the fulfilment of her own most
- ardent wish, and from the very person to whom it was the greatest trial.
- It was not, however, self-reproach that caused her tears, that her
- mother’s calmness prevented her from feeling, but only attachment to the
- place she was about to leave, and the recollections, which she accused
- herself of having slighted. Her mother, who had made up her mind to do
- what was right, found strength and peace at the moment of trial, when the
- wayward and untrained spirits of the daughter gave way. Not that she
- blamed Henrietta, she was rather gratified to find that she was so much
- attached to her home and her grandmother, and felt so much with her; and
- after she had succeeded in some degree in restoring her to composure, they
- talked long and earnestly over old times and deeper feelings.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The journey to London was prosperously performed, and Mrs. Frederick
- Langford was not overfatigued when she arrived at Uncle Geoffrey’s house
- at Westminster. The cordiality of their greeting may be imagined, as a
- visit from Henrietta had been one of the favourite visions of her cousin
- Beatrice, through her whole life; and the two girls were soon deep in the
- delights of a conversation in which sense and nonsense had an equal share.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day was spent by the two Mrs. Langfords in quiet together, while
- Henrietta was conducted through a rapid whirl of sight-seeing by Beatrice
- and Uncle Geoffrey, the latter of whom, to his niece’s great amazement,
- professed to find almost as much novelty in the sights as she did. A short
- December day, though not what they would have chosen, had this advantage,
- that the victim could not be as completely fagged and worn out as in a
- summer’s day, and Henrietta was still fresh and in high spirits when they
- drove home and found to their delight that the two schoolboys had already
- arrived.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice met both alike as old friends and almost brothers, but Alexander,
- though returning her greeting with equal cordiality, looked shyly at the
- new aunt and cousin, and as Henrietta suspected, wished them elsewhere.
- She had heard much of him from Beatrice, and knew that her brother
- regarded him as a formidable rival; and she was therefore surprised to see
- that his broad honest face expressed more good humour than intellect, and
- his manners wanted polish. He was tolerably well-featured, with light eyes
- and dark hair, and though half a year older than his cousin, was much
- shorter, more perhaps in appearance than reality, from the breadth and
- squareness of his shoulders, and from not carrying himself well.
- </p>
- <p>
- Alexander was, as ought previously to have been recorded, the third son of
- Mr. Roger Langford, the heir of Knight Sutton, at present living at Sutton
- Leigh, a small house on his father’s estate, busied with farming,
- sporting, and parish business; while his active wife contrived to make a
- narrow income feed, clothe, and at least half educate their endless tribe
- of boys. Roger, the eldest, was at sea; Frederick, the second, in India;
- and Alexander owed his more learned education to Uncle Geoffrey, who had
- been well recompensed by his industry and good conduct. Indeed his
- attainments had always been so superior to those of his brothers, that he
- might have been considered as a prodigy, had not his cousin Frederick been
- always one step before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred had greater talent, and had been much better taught at home, so that
- on first going to school, he took and kept the higher place; but this was
- but a small advantage in his eyes, compared with what he had to endure out
- of school during his first half-year. Unused to any training or
- companionship save of womankind, he was disconsolate, bewildered, derided
- in that new rude world; while Alex, accustomed to fight his way among rude
- brothers, instantly found his level, and even extended a protecting hand
- to his cousin, who requited it with little gratitude. Soon overcoming his
- effeminate habits, he grew expert and dexterous, and was equal to Alex in
- all but main bodily strength; but the spirit of rivalry once excited, had
- never died away, and with a real friendship and esteem for each other,
- their names or rather their nicknames had almost become party words among
- their schoolfellows.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor was it probable that this competition would be forgotten on this first
- occasion of spending their holidays together. Fred felt himself open to
- that most galling accusation of want of manliness, on account at once of
- his ignorance of country sports, and of his knowledge of accomplishments;
- but he did not guess at the feeling which made Alexander on his side
- regard those very accomplishments with a feeling which, if it were not
- jealousy, was at least very nearly akin to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice Langford had not the slightest claim to beauty. She was very
- little, and so thin that her papa did her no injustice when he called her
- skin and bones; but her thin brown face, with the aid of a pair of very
- large deep Italian-looking eyes, was so full of brilliant expression, and
- showed such changes of feeling from sad to gay, from sublime to
- ridiculous, that no one could have wished one feature otherwise. And if
- instead of being “like the diamond bright,” they had been “dull as lead,”
- it would have been little matter to Alex. Beatrice had been, she was
- still, his friend, his own cousin, more than what he could believe a
- sister to be if he had one,—in short his own little Queen Bee. He
- had had a monopoly of her; she had trained him in all the civilization
- which he possessed, and it was with considerable mortification that he
- thought himself lowered in her eyes by comparison with his old rival, as
- old a friend of hers, with the same claim to cousinly affection; and
- instead of understanding only what she had taught him, familiar with the
- tastes and pursuits on which she set perhaps too great a value.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred did not care nearly as much for Beatrice’s preference: it might be
- that he took it as a matter of course, or perhaps that having a sister of
- his own, he did not need her sympathy, but still it was a point on which
- he was likely to be sensitive, and thus her favour was likely to be
- secretly quite as much a matter of competition as their school studies and
- pastimes.
- </p>
- <p>
- For instance, dinner was over, and Henrietta was admiring some choice
- books of prints, such luxuries as Uncle Geoffrey now afforded himself, and
- which his wife and daughter greatly preferred to the more costly style of
- living which some people thought befitted them. She called to her brother
- who was standing by the fire, “Fred, do come and look at this beautiful
- Albert Durer of Sintram.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He hesitated, doubting whether Alexander would scorn him for an
- acquaintance with Albert Durer, but Beatrice added, “Yes, it was an old
- promise that I would show it to you. There now, look, admire, or be
- pronounced insensible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A wonderful old fellow was that Albert,” said Fred, looking, and
- forgetting his foolish false shame in the pleasure of admiration. “Yes; O
- how wondrously the expression on Death’s face changes as it does in the
- story! How easy it is to see how Fouque must have built it up! Have you
- seen it, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- His mother came to admire. Another print was produced, and another, and
- Fred and Beatrice were eagerly studying the elaborate engravings of the
- old German, when Alex, annoyed at finding her too much engrossed to have a
- word for him, came to share their occupation, and took up one of the
- prints with no practised hand. “Take care, Alex, take care,” cried
- Beatrice, in a sort of excruciated tone; “don’t you see what a pinch you
- are giving it! Only the initiated ought to handle a print: there is a
- pattern for you,” pointing to Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- She cut right and left: both looked annoyed, and retreated from the table.
- Fred thinking how Alex must look down on fingers which possessed any
- tenderness; Alex provoked at once and pained. Queen Bee’s black eyes
- perceived their power, and gave a flash of laughing triumph.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Beatrice was not quite in her usual high spirits, for she was very
- sorry to leave her mother; and when they went up stairs for the night, she
- stood long over the fire talking to her, and listening to certain parting
- cautions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How I wish you could have come, mamma! I am so sure that grandmamma in
- her kindness will tease Aunt Mary to death. You are the only person who
- can guard her without affronting grandmamma. Now I—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Had better let it alone,” rejoined Mrs. Geoffrey Langford. “You will do
- more harm than by letting things take their course. Remember, too, that
- Aunt Mary was at home there long before you or I knew the place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, if that tiresome Aunt Amelia would but have had some consideration!
- To go out of town and leave Aunt Susan on our hands just when we always go
- home!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We have lamented that often enough,” said her mother smiling. “It is
- unlucky, but it cannot be too often repeated, that wills and wishes must
- sometimes bend.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You say that for me, mamma,” said Beatrice. “You think grandmamma and I
- have too much will for each other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you are conscious of that, Bee, I hope that you will bend that wilful
- will of yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope I shall,” said Beatrice, “but.... Well, I must go to bed. Good
- night, mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And Mrs. Geoffrey Langford looked after her daughter anxiously, but she
- well knew that Beatrice knew her besetting fault, and she trusted to the
- many fervent resolutions she had made against it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning the party bade adieu to Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, and set
- out on their journey to Knight Sutton. They filled a whole railroad
- carriage, and were a very cheerful party. Alexander and Beatrice sat
- opposite to each other, talking over Knight Sutton delights with
- animation, Beatrice ever and anon turning to her other cousins with
- explanations, or referring to her papa, who was reading the newspaper and
- talking with Mrs. Frederick Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- The day was not long enough for all the talk of the cousins, and the early
- winter twilight came on before their conversation was exhausted, or they
- had reached the Allonfield station.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here we are!” exclaimed Beatrice, as the train stopped, and at the same
- moment a loud voice called out, “All right! where are you, Alex?” upon
- which Alexander tumbled across Henrietta to feel for the handle of the
- carriage-door, replying, “Here, old fellow, let us out. Have you brought
- Dumpling?” And Uncle Geoffrey and Beatrice exclaimed, “How d’ye do,
- Carey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- When Alexander had succeeded in making his exit, Henrietta beheld him
- shaking hands with a figure not quite his own height, and in its rough
- great-coat not unlike a small species of bear. Uncle Geoffrey and Fred
- handed out the ladies, and sought their appurtenances in the dark, and
- Henrietta began to give Alex credit for a portion of that which maketh
- man, when he shoved his brother, admonishing him that there was Aunt Mary,
- upon which Carey advanced, much encumbered with sheepish shyness,
- presented a great rough driving-glove, and shortly and bluntly replied to
- the soft tones which kindly greeted him, and inquired for all at home.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is the Hall carriage come?” asked Alex, and, receiving a gruff
- affirmative, added, “then, Aunt Mary, you had better come to it while
- Uncle Geoffrey looks after the luggage,” offered his arm with tolerable
- courtesy, and conducted her to the carriage. “There,” said he, “Carey has
- driven in our gig, and I suppose Fred and I had better go back with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is the horse steady?” asked his aunt, anxiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dumple? To be sure! Never does wrong! do you, old fellow?” said Alex,
- patting his old friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And no lamps?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, we know the way blindfold, and you might cross Sutton Heath a dozen
- times without meeting anything but a wheelbarrow-full of peat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how is the road now? It used to be very bad in my time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lots of ruts,” muttered Carey to his brother, who interpreted it, “A few
- ruts this winter, but Dumpling knows all the bad places.”
- </p>
- <p>
- By this time Uncle Geoffrey came up, and instantly perceiving the state of
- things, said, “I say, Freddy, do you mind changing places with me? I
- should like to have a peep at Uncle Roger before going up to the house,
- and then Dumpling’s feelings won’t be hurt by passing the turn to Sutton
- Leigh.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred could not object, and his mother rejoiced in the belief that Uncle
- Geoffrey would take the reins, nor did Beatrice undeceive her, though, as
- the vehicle rattled past the carriage at full speed, she saw Alexander’s
- own flourish of the whip, and knew that her papa was letting the boys have
- their own way. She had been rather depressed in the morning on leaving her
- mother, but as she came nearer home her spirits mounted, and she was
- almost wild with glee. “Aunt Mary, do you know where you are?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On Sutton Heath, I presume, from the absence of landmarks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, that we are. You dear old place, how d’ye do? You beginning of home!
- I don’t know when it is best coming to you: on a summer’s evening, all
- glowing with purple heath, or a frosty star-light night like this. There
- is the Sutton Leigh turn! Hurrah! only a mile further to the gate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where I used to go to meet the boys coming home from school,” said her
- aunt, in a low tone of deep feeling. But she would not sadden their blithe
- young hearts, and added cheerfully, “Just the same as ever, I see: how
- well I know the outline of the bank there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, it is your fatherland, too, Aunt Mary! Is there not something
- inspiring in the very air? Come, Fred, can’t you get up a little
- enthusiasm?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oceans, without getting it up,” replied Fred. “I never was more rejoiced
- in my whole life,” and he began to hum Domum.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sing it, sing it; let us join in chorus as homage to Knight Sutton,”
- cried Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the voices began, “Domum, Domum, dulce Domum;” even Aunt Mary herself
- caught the feelings of her young companions, felt herself coming to her
- own beloved home and parents, half forgot how changed was her situation,
- and threw herself into the delight of returning.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Fred,” said Henrietta, “let us try those verses that you found a
- tune for, that begin ‘What is home?’”
- </p>
- <p>
- This also was sung, and by the time it was finished they had reached a
- gate leading into a long drive through dark beech woods. “This is the
- beautiful wood of which I have often told you, Henrietta,” said Mrs.
- Frederick Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The wood with glades like cathedral aisles,” said Henrietta. “O, how
- delightful it will be to see it come out in leaf!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Which I have never seen,” said Beatrice. “I tell papa he has made his
- fortune, and ought to retire, and he says he is too young for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In which I fully agree with him,” said her aunt. “I should not like to
- see him with nothing to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, mamma, Uncle Geoffrey would never be anywhere with nothing to do,”
- said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said her mother, “but people are always happier with work made for
- them, than with what they make for themselves. Besides, Uncle Geoffrey has
- too much talent to be spared.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay,” said Fred, “I wondered to hear you so devoid of ambition, little
- Busy Bee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is only Knight Sutton and thinking of May flowers that makes me so,”
- said Beatrice. “I believe after all, I should break my heart if papa did
- retire without—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Without what, Bee?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Being Lord Chancellor, I suppose,” said Henrietta very seriously. “I am
- sure I should.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His being in Parliament will content me for the present,” said Beatrice,
- “for I have been told too often that high principles don’t rise in the
- world, to expect any more. We can be just as proud of him as if he was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are in a wondrously humble and philosophic mood, Queen Bee,” said
- Henrietta; “but where are we now?” added she, as a gate swung back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Coming into the paddock,” said Beatrice; “don’t you see the lights in the
- house? There, that is the drawing-room window to the right, and that large
- one the great hall window. Then upstairs, don’t you see that red
- fire-light? That is the south room, which Aunt Mary will be sure to have.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta did not answer, for there was something that subdued her in the
- nervous pressure of her mother’s hand. The carriage stopped at the door,
- whence streamed forth light, dazzling to eyes long accustomed to darkness;
- but in the midst stood a figure which Henrietta could not but have
- recognized in an instant, even had not old Mr. Langford paid more than one
- visit to Rocksand. Tall, thin, unbent, with high bald forehead, clear eye,
- and long snowy hair; there he was, lifting rather than handing his
- daughter-in-law from the carriage, and fondly kissing her brow; then he
- hastily greeted the other occupants of the carriage, while she received
- the kiss of Mrs. Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were now in the hall, and turning again to his daughter-in-law, he
- gave her his arm, and led her into the drawing-room, where he once more
- embraced her, saying, “Bless you, my own dear Mary!” She clung to him for
- a moment as if she longed to weep with him, but recovering herself in an
- instant, she gave her attention to Mrs. Langford, who was trying to
- administer to her comfort with a degree of bustle and activity which
- suited well with the alertness of her small figure and the vivacity of the
- black eyes which still preserved their brightness, though her hair was
- perfectly white. “Well, Mary, my dear, I hope you are not tired. You had
- better sit down and take off your furs, or will you go to your room? But
- where is Geoffrey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He went with Alex and Carey, round by Sutton Leigh,” said Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ha! ha! my little Queen, are you there?” said grandpapa, holding out his
- arms to her. “And,” added he, “is not this your first introduction to the
- twins, grandmamma? Why you are grown as fine a pair as I would wish to see
- on a summer’s day. Last time I saw you I could hardly tell you apart, when
- you both wore straw hats and white trousers. No mistake now though. Well,
- I am right glad to have you here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Won’t you take off some of your wraps, Mary?” proceeded Mrs. Langford,
- and her daughter-in-law, with a soft “Thank you,” passively obeyed. “And
- you too, my dear,” she added to Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Off with that bonnet, Miss Henrietta,” proceeded grandpapa. “Let me see
- whether you are as like your brother as ever. He has your own face, Mary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not you think his forehead like—” and she looked to the end of
- the room where hung the portraits of two young children, the brothers
- Geoffrey and Frederick. Henrietta had often longed to see it, but now she
- could attend to nothing but her mamma.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Like poor dear Frederick?” said grandmamma. “Well, I can’t judge by
- firelight, you know, my dear, but I should say they were both your very
- image.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can’t be the image of any one I should like better,” said Mr.
- Langford, turning to them cheerfully, and taking Henrietta’s hand. “I wish
- nothing better than to find you the image of your mamma inside and out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, there’s Geoffrey!” cried Mrs. Langford, springing up and almost
- running to meet him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Geoffrey, how d’ye do?” added his father with an indescribable tone
- and look of heartfelt delight. “Left all your cares behind you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Left my wife behind me,” said Uncle Geoffrey, making a rueful face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, it is a sad business that poor Beatrice cannot come,” said both the
- old people, “but how is poor Lady Susan?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As usual, only too nervous to be left with none of the family at hand.
- Well, Mary, you look tired.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Overcome, Uncle Geoffrey would have said, but he thought the other
- accusation would answer the same purpose and attract less attention, and
- it succeeded, for Mrs. Langford proposed to take her up stairs. Henrietta
- thought that Beatrice would have offered to save her the trouble, but this
- would not have been at all according to the habits of grandmamma or
- granddaughter, and Mrs. Langford briskly led the way to a large
- cheerful-looking room, talking all the time and saying she supposed
- Henrietta would like to be with her mamma. She nodded to their maid, who
- was waiting there, and gave her a kindly greeting, stirred the already
- bright fire into a blaze, and returning to her daughter-in-law who was
- standing like one in a dream, she gave her a fond kiss, saying, “There,
- Mary, I thought you would like to be here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, thank you, you are always kind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There now, Mary, don’t let yourself be overcome. You would not bring him
- back again, I know. Come, lie down and rest. There—that is right—and
- don’t think of coming down stairs. You think your mamma had better not,
- don’t you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much better not, thank you, grandmamma,” said Henrietta, as she assisted
- in settling her mother on the sofa. “She is tired and overcome now, but
- she will be herself after a rest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And ask for anything you like, my dear. A glass of wine or a cup of
- coffee; Judith will get you one in a moment. Won’t you have a cup of
- coffee, Mary, my dear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, no thank you,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, raising herself.
- “Indeed I am sorry—it is very foolish.” Here the choking sob came
- again, and she was forced to lie down. Grandmamma stood by, warming a
- shawl to throw over her, and pitying her in audible whispers. “Poor thing,
- poor thing! it is very sad for her. There! a pillow, my dear? I’ll fetch
- one out of my room. No? Is her head high enough? Some sal-volatile? Yes,
- Mary, would you not like some sal-volatile?”
- </p>
- <p>
- And away she went in search of it, while Henrietta, excessively
- distressed, knelt by her mother, who, throwing her arms round her neck,
- wept freely for some moments, then laid her head on the cushions again,
- saying, “I did not think I was so weak!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dearest mamma,” said Henrietta, kissing her and feeling very guilty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I have not distressed grandmamma!” said her mother anxiously. “No,
- never mind me, my dear, it was fatigue and—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Still she could not finish, so painfully did the familiar voices, the
- unchanged furniture, recall both her happy childhood and the bridal days
- when she had last entered the house, that it seemed as it were a new
- thing, a fresh shock to miss the tone that was never to be heard there
- again. Why should all around be the same, when all within was altered? But
- it had been only the first few moments that had overwhelmed her, and the
- sound of Mrs. Langford’s returning footsteps recalled her habit of
- self-control; she thanked her, held out her quivering hand, drank the
- sal-volatile, pronounced herself much better, and asked pardon for having
- given so much trouble.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Trouble? my dear child, no such thing! I only wish I could see you
- better. No doubt it is too much for you, this coming home the first time;
- but then you know poor Fred is gone to a better—Ah! well, I see you
- can’t bear to speak of him, and perhaps after all quiet is the best thing.
- Don’t let your mamma think of dressing and coming down, my dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a little combat on this point, but it ended in Mrs. Frederick
- Langford yielding, and agreeing to remain upstairs. Grandmamma would have
- waited to propose to her each of the dishes that were to appear at table,
- and hear which she thought would suit her taste; but very fortunately, as
- Henrietta thought, a bell rang at that moment, which she pronounced to be
- “the half-hour bell,” and she hastened away, telling her granddaughter
- that dinner would be ready at half-past five, and calling the maid outside
- the door to giver her full directions where to procure anything that her
- mistress might want.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear grandmamma! just like herself!” said Mrs. Frederick Langford. “But
- Henrietta, my dear,” she added with some alarm, “make haste and dress: you
- must never be too late in this house!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was not much accustomed to dress to a moment, and she was too
- anxious about her mamma to make speed with her whole will, and her hair
- was in no state of forwardness when the dinner-bell rang, causing her
- mamma to start and hasten her with an eager, almost alarmed manner. “You
- don’t know how your grandmamma dislikes being kept waiting,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last she was ready, and running down, found all the rest assembled,
- evidently waiting for her. Frederick, looking anxious, met her at the door
- to receive her assurances that their mother was better; the rest inquired,
- and her apologies were cut short by grandmamma calling them to eat her
- turkey before it grew cold. The spirits of all the party were perhaps
- damped by Mrs. Frederick Langford’s absence and its cause, for the dinner
- was not a very lively one, nor the conversation very amusing to Henrietta
- and Frederick, as it was chiefly on the news of the country neighbourhood,
- in which Uncle Geoffrey showed much interest.
- </p>
- <p>
- As soon as she was released from the dining-room, Henrietta ran up to her
- mamma, whom she found refreshed and composed. “But, O mamma, is this a
- good thing for you?” said Henrietta, looking at the red case containing
- her father’s miniature, which had evidently been only just closed on her
- entrance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The very best thing for me, dearest,” was the answer, now given in her
- own calm tones. “It does truly make me happier than anything else. No,
- don’t look doubtful, my Henrietta; if it were repining it might hurt me,
- but I trust it is not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And does this really comfort you, mamma?” said Henrietta, as she pressed
- the spring, and gazed thoughtfully on the portrait. “O, I cannot fancy
- that! the more I think, the more I try to realize what it might have been,
- think what Uncle Geoffrey is to Beatrice, till sometimes, O mamma, I feel
- quite rebellious!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will be better disciplined in time, my poor child,” said her mother,
- sadly. “As your grandmamma said, who could be so selfish as to wish him
- here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And can you bear to say so, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She clasped her hands and looked up, and Henrietta feared she had gone too
- far. Both were silent for some little time, until at last the daughter
- timidly asked, “And was this your old room, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes: look in that shelf in the corner; there are all our old childish
- books. Bring that one,” she added, as Henrietta took one out, and opening
- it, she showed in the fly-leaf the well-written “F.H. Langford,” with the
- giver’s name; and below in round hand, scrawled all over the page, “Mary
- Vivian, the gift of her cousin Fred.” “I believe that you may find that in
- almost all of them,” said she. “I am glad they have been spared from the
- children at Sutton Leigh. Will you bring me a few more to look over,
- before you go down again to grandmamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta did not like to leave her, and lingered while she made a
- selection for her among the books, and from that fell into another talk,
- in which they were interrupted by a knock at the door, and the entrance of
- Mrs. Langford herself. She sat a little time, and asked of health,
- strength, and diet, until she bustled off again to see if there was a good
- fire in Geoffrey’s room, telling Henrietta that tea would soon be ready.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta’s ideas of grandmammas were formed on the placid Mrs. Vivian,
- naturally rather indolent, and latterly very infirm, although considerably
- younger than Mrs. Langford; and she stood looking after in speechless
- amazement, her mamma laughing at her wonder. “But, my dear child,” she
- said, “I beg you will go down. It will never do to have you staying up
- here all the evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was really going this time, when as she opened the door, she was
- stopped by a new visitor. This was an elderly respectable-looking
- maid-servant, old Judith, whose name was well known to her. She had been
- nursery-maid at Knight Sutton at the time “Miss Mary” arrived from India,
- and was now, what in a more modernized family would have been called
- ladies’-maid or housekeeper, but here was a nondescript office, if
- anything, upper housemaid. How she was loved and respected is known to all
- who are happy enough to possess a “Judith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, miss,” said she, as Henrietta opened the door just
- before her, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, on hearing her voice, called out,
- “O Judith! is that you? I was in hopes you were coming to see me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She advanced with a courtesy, at the same time affectionately taking the
- thin white hand stretched out to her. “I hope you are better, ma’am. It is
- something like old times to have you here again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed I am very glad to be here, Judith,” was the answer, “and very glad
- to see you looking like your own dear self.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Miss Mary; I beg your pardon, ma’am; I wish I could see you looking
- better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall, I hope, to-morrow, thank you, Judith. But you have not been
- introduced to Henrietta, there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I have often heard of you, Judith,” said Henrietta, cordially holding
- out her hand. Judith took it, and looked at her with affectionate
- earnestness. “Sure enough, miss,” said she, “as Missus says, you are the
- very picture of your mamma when she went away; but I think I see a look of
- poor Master Frederick too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you seen my brother, Judith?” asked Henrietta, fearing a second
- discussion on likenesses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Miss Henrietta; I was coming down from Missus’s room, when Mr.
- Geoffrey stopped me to ask how I did, and he said ‘Here’s a new
- acquaintance for you, Judith,’ and there was Master Frederick. I should
- have known him anywhere, and he spoke so cheerful and pleasant. A fine
- young gentleman he is, to be sure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, we must be like your grandchildren!” said Henrietta; “but O! here
- comes Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And Judith discreetly retreated as Fred entered bearing a summons to his
- sister to come down to tea, saying that he could scarcely prevail on
- grandmamma to let him take the message instead of coming herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- They found Queen Bee perched upon the arm of her grandpapa’s chair, with
- one hand holding by his collar. She had been coaxing him to say Henrietta
- was the prettiest girl he ever saw, and he was teasing her by declaring he
- should never see anything like Aunt Mary in her girlish days. Then he
- called up Henrietta and Fred, and asked them about their home doings,
- showing so distinct a knowledge of them, that they laughed and stood
- amazed. “Ah,” said grandpapa, “you forgot that I had a Queen Bee to
- enlighten me. We have plenty to tell each other, when we go buzzing over
- the ploughed fields together on a sunny morning, haven’t we, Busy, Busy
- Bee?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Here grandmamma summoned them all to tea. She liked every one to sit round
- the table, and put away work and book, as for a regular meal, and it was
- rather a long one. Then, when all was over, grandpapa called out, “Come,
- young ladies, I’ve been wearying for a tune these three months. I hope you
- are not too tired to give us one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no, grandpapa!” cried Beatrice, “but you must hear Henrietta. It is
- a great shame of her to play so much better than I do, with all my London
- masters too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And in music the greater part of the evening was passed away. Beatrice
- came to her aunt’s room to wish her good-night, and to hear Henrietta’s
- opinions, which were of great delight, and still greater wonder—grandmamma
- so excessively kind, and grandpapa, O, he was a grandpapa to be proud of!
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V.
- </h2>
- <p>
- It was an agreeable surprise to Henrietta that her mother waked free from
- headache, very cheerful, and feeling quite able to get up to breakfast.
- The room looked very bright and pleasant by the first morning light that
- shone upon the intricate frost-work on the window; and Henrietta, as
- usual, was too much lost in gazing at the branches of the elms and the
- last year’s rooks’ nests, to make the most of her time; so that the bell
- for prayers rang long before she was ready. Her mamma would not leave her,
- and remained to help her. Just as they were going down at last, they met
- Mrs. Langford on her way up with inquiries for poor Mary. She would have
- almost been better pleased with a slight indisposition than with dawdling;
- but she kindly accepted Henrietta’s apologies, and there was one
- exclamation of joy from all the assembled party at Mrs. Frederick
- Langford’s unhoped-for entrance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Geoffrey, my dear,” began Mrs. Langford, as soon as the greetings and
- congratulations were over, “will you see what is the matter with the lock
- of this tea-chest?—it has been out of order these three weeks, and I
- thought you could set it to rights.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While Uncle Geoffrey was pronouncing on its complaints, Atkins, the old
- servant, put in his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you please, sir, Thomas Parker would be glad to speak to Mr. Geoffrey
- about his son on the railway.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Away went Mr. Geoffrey to the lower regions, where Thomas Parker awaited
- him, and as soon as he returned was addressed by his father: “Geoffrey, I
- put those papers on the table in the study, if you will look over them
- when you have time, and tell me what you think of the turnpike trust.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A few moments after the door was thrown wide open, and in burst three
- boys, shouting with one voice—“Uncle Geoffrey, Uncle Geoffrey, you
- must come and see which of Vixen’s puppies are to be saved!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hush, hush, you rogues, hush!” was Uncle Geoffrey’s answer; “don’t you
- know that you are come into civilized society? Aunt Mary never saw such
- wild men of the woods.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All crazy at the sight of Uncle Geoffrey,” said grandmamma. “Ah, he
- spoils you all! but, come here, Johnny, come and speak to your aunt.
- There, this is Johnny, and here are Richard and Willie,” she added, as
- they came up and awkwardly gave their hands to their aunt and cousins.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was almost bewildered by seeing so many likenesses of Alexander.
- “How shall I ever know them apart?” said she to Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Like grandmamma’s nest of teacups, all alike, only each one size below
- another,” said Beatrice. “However, I don’t require you to learn them all
- at once; only to know Alex and Willie from the rest. Here, Willie, have
- you nothing to say to me? How are the rabbits?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Willie, a nice-looking boy of nine or ten years old, of rather slighter
- make than his brothers, and with darker eyes and hair, came to Queen Bee’s
- side, as if he was very glad to see her, and only slightly discomposed by
- Henrietta’s neighbourhood.
- </p>
- <p>
- John gave the information that papa and Alex were only just behind, and in
- another minute they made their appearance. “Good morning sir; good
- morning, ma’am,” were Uncle Roger’s greetings, as he came in. “Ah, Mary,
- how d’ye do? glad to see you here at last; hope you are better.—-Ah,
- good morning, good morning,” as he quickly shook hands with the younger
- ones. “Good morning, Geoffrey; I told Martin to take the new drill into
- the outfield, for I want your opinion whether it is worth keeping.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And thereupon the three gentlemen began a learned discussion on drills,
- during which Henrietta studied her uncle. She was at first surprised to
- see him look so young—younger, she thought, than Uncle Geoffrey; but
- in a moment or two she changed her mind, for though mental labour had
- thinned and grizzled Uncle Geoffrey’s hair, paled his cheek, and traced
- lines of thought on his broad high brow, it had not quenched the light
- that beamed in his eyes, nor subdued the joyous merriment that often
- played over his countenance, according with the slender active figure that
- might have belonged to a mere boy. Uncle Roger was taller, and much more
- robust and broad; his hair still untouched with grey, his face ruddy
- brown, and his features full of good nature, but rather heavy. In his
- plaid shooting coat and high gaiters, as he stood by the fire, he looked
- the model of a country squire; but there was an indescribable family
- likeness, and something of the same form about the nose and lip, which
- recalled to Henrietta the face she loved so well in Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- The drill discussion was not concluded when Mrs. Langford gave the signal
- for the ladies to leave the breakfast table. Henrietta ran up stairs for
- her mother’s work, and came down again laughing. “I am sure, Queenie,”
- said she, “that your papa chose his trade rightly. He may well be called a
- great counsel. Besides all the opinions asked of him at breakfast, I have
- just come across a consultation on the stairs between him and Judith about—what
- was it?—some money in a savings’ bank.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Beatrice, “Judith has saved a sum that is wondrous in these
- degenerate days of maids in silk gowns, and she is wise enough to give
- ‘Master Geoffrey’ all the management of it. But if you are surprised now,
- what will you be by the end of the day? See if his advice is not asked in
- at least fifty matters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll count,” said Henrietta: “what have we had already?” and she took out
- pencil and paper—“Number one, the tea-chest; then the poor man, and
- the turnpike trust—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vixen’s puppies and the drill,” suggested her mamma.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Judith’s money,” added Henrietta. “Six already—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To say nothing of all that will come by the post, and we shall not hear
- of,” said Beatrice; “and look here, what I am going to seal for him, one,
- two, three—eight letters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why! when could he possibly have written them?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Last night after we were gone to bed. It shows how much more grandmamma
- will let him do than any one else, that she can allow him to sit up with a
- candle after eleven o’clock. I really believe that there is not another
- living creature in the world who could do it in this house. There, you may
- add your own affairs to the list, Henrietta, for he is going to the
- Pleasance to meet some man of brick and mortar.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I wish we could walk there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare say we can. I’ll manage. Aunt Mary, should you not like Henrietta
- to go and see the Pleasance?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Almost as much as Henrietta would like it herself, Busy Bee,” said Aunt
- Mary; “but I think she should walk to Sutton Leigh to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Walk to Sutton Leigh!” echoed old Mrs. Langford, entering at the moment;
- “not you, surely, Mary?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no, grandmamma,” said Beatrice, laughing; “she was only talking of
- Henrietta’s doing it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, and so do, my dears; it will be a very nice thing, if you go this
- morning before the frost goes off. Your Aunt Roger will like to see you,
- and you may take the little pot of black currant jelly that I wanted to
- send over for poor Tom’s sore mouth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice looked at Henrietta and made a face of disgust as she asked,
- “Have they no currant jelly themselves?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, they never can keep anything in the garden. I don’t mean that the
- boys take the fruit; but between tarts and puddings and desserts, poor
- Elizabeth can never make any preserves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But,” objected Queen Bee, “if one of the children is ill, do you think
- Aunt Roger will like to have us this morning? and the post girl could take
- the jelly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O nonsense, Bee,” said Mrs. Langford, somewhat angrily; “you don’t like
- to do it, I see plain enough. It is very hard you can’t be as good-natured
- to your own little cousin as to one of the children in the village.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed, grandmamma, I did not mean that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no, grandmamma,” joined in Henrietta, “we shall be very glad to
- take it. Pray let us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” added Beatrice, “if it is really to be of any use, no one can be
- more willing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of any use?” repeated Mrs. Langford. “No! never mind. I’ll send someone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, pray do not, dear grandmamma,” eagerly exclaimed Henrietta; “I do beg
- you will let us take it. It will be making me at home directly to let me
- be useful.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandmamma was pacified. “When will you set out?” she asked; “you had
- better not lose this bright morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We will go directly,” said Queen Bee; “we will go by the west turning, so
- that Henrietta may see the Pleasance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear! the west turning will be a swamp, and I won’t have you getting
- wet in your feet and catching cold.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, we have clogs; and besides, the road does not get so dirty since it
- has been mended. I asked Johnny this morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As if he knew, or cared anything about it!—and you will be late for
- luncheon. Besides, grandpapa will drive your aunt there the first day she
- feels equal to it, and Henrietta may see it then. But you will always have
- your own way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta had seldom been more uncomfortable than during this altercation;
- and but for reluctance to appear more obliging than her cousin, she would
- have begged to give up the scheme. Her mother would have interfered in
- another moment, but the entrance of Uncle Geoffrey gave a sudden turn to
- affairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who likes to go to the Pleasance?” said he, as he entered. “All whose
- curiosity lies that way may prepare their seven-leagued boots.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here are the girls dying to go,” said Mrs. Langford, as well pleased as
- if she had not been objecting the minute before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well. We go by Sutton Leigh: so make haste, maidens.” Then, turning
- to his mother, “Didn’t I hear you say you had something to send to
- Elizabeth, ma’am?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only some currant jelly for little Tom; but if—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O grandmamma, that is my charge; pray don’t cheat me,” exclaimed
- Henrietta. “If you will lend me a basket, it will travel much better with
- me than in Uncle Geoffrey’s pocket.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, that will be the proper division of labour,” said Uncle Geoffrey,
- looking well pleased with his niece; “but I thought you were off to get
- ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t keep your uncle waiting, my dear,” added her mamma; and Henrietta
- departed, Beatrice following her to her room, and there exclaiming, “If
- there is a thing I can’t endure, it is going to Sutton Leigh when one of
- the children is poorly! It is always bad enough—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bad enough! O, Busy Bee!” cried Henrietta, quite unprepared to hear of
- any flaw in her paradise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will soon see what I mean. The host of boys in the way; the wooden
- bricks and black horses spotted with white wafers that you break your
- shins over, the marbles that roll away under your feet, the whips that
- crack in your ears, the universal air of nursery that pervades the house.
- It is worse in the morning, too; for one is always whining over sum, es,
- est, and another over his spelling. O, if I had eleven brothers in a small
- house, I should soon turn misanthrope. But you are laughing instead of
- getting ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So are you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My things will be on in a quarter of the time you take. I’ll tell you
- what, Henrietta, the Queen Bee allows no drones, and I shall teach you to
- ‘improve each shining hour;’ for nothing will get you into such dire
- disgrace here as to be always behind time. Besides, it is a great shame to
- waste papa’s time. Now, here is your shawl ready folded, and now I will
- trust you to put on your boots and bonnet by yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In five minutes the Queen Bee flew back again, and found Henrietta still
- measuring the length of her bonnet strings before the glass. She hunted
- her down stairs at last, and found the two uncles and grandpapa at the
- door, playing with the various dogs, small and great, that usually waited
- there. Fred and the other boys had gone out together some time since, and
- the party now set forth, the three gentlemen walking together first.
- Henrietta turned as soon as she had gone a sufficient distance that she
- might study the aspect of the house. It did not quite fulfil her
- expectations; it was neither remarkable for age nor beauty; the masonry
- was in a sort of chessboard pattern, alternate squares of freestone and of
- flints, the windows were not casements as she thought they ought to have
- been, and the long wing, or rather excrescence, which contained the
- drawing-room, was by no means ornamental. It was a respectable,
- comfortable mansion, and that was all that was to be said in its praise,
- and Beatrice’s affection had so embellished it in description, that it was
- no wonder that Henrietta felt slightly disappointed. She had had some
- expectation, too, of seeing it in the midst of a park, instead of which
- the carriage-drive along which they were walking, only skirted a rather
- large grass field, full of elm trees, and known by the less dignified name
- of the paddock. But she would not confess the failure of her expectations
- even to herself, and as Beatrice was evidently looking for some
- expressions of admiration, she said the road must be very pretty in
- summer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Especially when this bank is one forest of foxgloves,” said Queen Bee.
- “Only think! Uncle Roger and the farmer faction wanted grandpapa to have
- this hedge row grubbed up, and turned into a plain dead fence; but I
- carried the day, and I dare say Aunt Mary will be as much obliged to me as
- the boys who would have lost their grand preserve of stoats and rabbits.
- But here are the outfield and the drill.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And going through a small gate at the corner of the paddock, they entered
- a large ploughed field, traversed by a footpath raised and gravelled, so
- as to be high and dry, which was well for the two girls, as the gentlemen
- left them to march up and down there by themselves, whilst they were
- discussing the merits of the brilliant blue machine which was travelling
- along the furrows. It was rather a trial of patience, but Beatrice was
- used to it, and Henrietta was in a temper to be pleased with anything.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last the inspection was concluded, and Mr. Langford came to his
- granddaughters, leaving his two sons to finish their last words with
- Martin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, young ladies,” said he, “this is fine drilling, in patience at
- least. I only wish my wheat may be as well drilled with Uncle Roger’s
- new-fangled machines.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is right, grandpapa,” said Queen Bee; “you hate them as much as I
- do, don’t you now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is afraid they will make honey by steam,” said grandpapa, “and render
- bees a work of supererogation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They are doing what they can towards it,” said Beatrice. “Why, when Mr.
- Carey took us to see his hives, I declare I had quite a fellow-feeling for
- my poor subjects, boxed up in glass, with all their privacy destroyed. And
- they won’t even let them swarm their own way—a most unwarrantable
- interference with the liberty of the subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well done, Queenie,” said Mr. Langford, laughing; “a capital champion.
- And so you don’t look forward to the time when we are to have our hay made
- by one machine, our sheep washed by another, our turkeys crammed by a
- third—ay, and even the trouble of bird-starving saved us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bird-starving!” repeated Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; or keeping a few birds, according to the mother’s elegant
- diminutive,” said Beatrice, “serving as live scarecrows.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should have thought a scarecrow would have answered the purpose,” said
- Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is one that is full of gunpowder, and fires off every ten minutes,”
- said grandpapa; “but I told Uncle Roger we would have none of them here
- unless he was prepared to see one of his boys blown up at every third
- explosion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is Uncle Roger so very fond of machines?” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He goes about to cattle shows and agricultural meetings, and comes home
- with his pockets crammed with papers of new inventions, which I leave him
- to try as long as he does not empty my pockets too fast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t they succeed, then?” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why—ay—I must confess we get decent crops enough. And once we
- achieved a prize ox,—such a disgusting overgrown beast, that I could
- not bear the sight of it; and told Uncle Roger I would have no more such
- waste of good victuals, puffing up the ox instead of the frog.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was not quite certain whether all this was meant in jest or
- earnest; and perhaps the truth was, that though grandpapa had little
- liking for new plans, he was too wise not to adopt those which possessed
- manifest advantage, and only indulged himself in a good deal of playful
- grumbling, which greatly teased Uncle Roger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is Sutton Leigh,” said grandpapa, as they came in sight of a low
- white house among farm buildings. “Well, Henrietta, are you prepared for
- an introduction to an aunt and half-a-dozen cousins, and Jessie Carey into
- the bargain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jessie Carey!” exclaimed Beatrice in a tone of dismay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you not know she was there? Why they always send Carey over for her
- with the gig if there is but a tooth-ache the matter at Sutton Leigh.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is she one of Aunt Roger’s nieces?” asked Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Beatrice. “And—O! grandpapa, don’t look at me in that
- way. Where is the use of being your pet, if I may not tell my mind?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I won’t have Henrietta prejudiced,” said Mr. Langford. “Don’t listen to
- her, my dear: and I’ll tell you what Jessie Carey is. She is an honest,
- good-natured girl as ever lived; always ready to help every one, never
- thinking of trouble, without an atom of selfishness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now for the but, grandpapa,” cried Beatrice. “I allow all that, only
- grant me the but.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Queen Bee, chancing to be a conceited little Londoner, looks down on
- us poor country folks as unfit for her most refined and intellectual
- society.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O grandpapa, that is not fair! Indeed, you don’t really believe that. O,
- say you don’t!” And Beatrice’s black eyes were full of tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I do not believe the whole, you believe the half, Miss Bee,” and he
- added, half whispering, “take care some of us do not believe the other
- half. But don’t look dismal on the matter, only put it into one of your
- waxen cells, and don’t lose sight of it. And if it is any comfort to you,
- I will allow that perhaps poor Jessie is not the most entertaining
- companion for you. Her vanity maggots are not of the same sort as yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They had by this time nearly reached Sutton Leigh, a building little
- altered from the farm-house it had originally been, with a small garden in
- front, and a narrow footpath up to the door. As soon as they came in sight
- there was a general rush forward of little boys in brown holland, all
- darting on Uncle Geoffrey, and holding him fast by legs and arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me loose, you varlets,” he cried, and disengaging one hand, in
- another moment drew from his capacious pocket a beautiful red ball, which
- he sent bounding over their heads, and dancing far away with all the
- urchins in pursuit.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same moment the rosy, portly, good-humoured Mrs. Roger Langford
- appeared at the door, welcoming them cordially, and, as usual, accusing
- Uncle Geoffrey of spoiling her boys. Henrietta thought she had never seen
- a happier face than hers in the midst of cares, and children, and a
- drawing-room which, with its faded furniture strewn with toys, had in
- fact, as Beatrice said, something of the appearance of a nursery.
- </p>
- <p>
- Little Tom, the youngest, was sitting on the lap of his cousin, Jessie
- Carey, at whom Henrietta looked with some curiosity. She was a pretty girl
- of twenty, with a brilliant gipsy complexion, fine black hair, and a face
- which looked as good-natured as every other inhabitant of Sutton Leigh.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it would be tedious to describe a visit which was actually very
- tedious to Beatrice, and would have been the same to Henrietta but for its
- novelty. Aunt Roger asked all particulars about Mrs. Frederick Langford,
- then of Aunt Geoffrey and Lady Susan St. Leger, and then gave the history
- of the misfortunes of little Tom, who was by this time on Uncle Geoffrey’s
- knee looking at himself in the inside of the case of his watch.
- Henrietta’s list, too, was considerably lengthened; for Uncle Geoffrey
- advised upon a smoky chimney, mended a cart of Charlie’s, and assisted
- Willie in a puzzling Latin exercise.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was almost one o’clock, and as a certain sound of clattering plates was
- heard in the next room, Aunt Roger begged her guests to come in to
- luncheon. Uncle Geoffrey accepted for the girls, who were to walk on with
- him; but Mr. Langford, no eater of luncheons, returned to his own affairs
- at home. Henrietta found the meal was the family dinner. She had hardly
- ever been seated at one so plain, or on so long a table; and she was not
- only surprised, but tormented herself by an uncomfortable and uncalled-for
- fancy, that her hosts must be supposing her to be remarking on
- deficiencies. The younger children were not so perfect in the management
- of knife, fork, and spoon, as to be pleasant to watch; nor was the matter
- mended by the attempts at correction made from time to time by their
- father and Jessie. But Henrietta endured better than Beatrice, whose face
- ill concealed an expression of disgust and weariness, and who maintained a
- silence very unlike her usual habits.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last Uncle Geoffrey, to the joy of both, proposed to pursue their walk,
- and they took leave. Queen Bee rejoiced as soon as they had quitted the
- house, that the boys were too well occupied with their pudding to wish to
- accompany them, but she did not venture on any further remarks before her
- papa. He gave a long whistle, and then turned to point out all the
- interesting localities to Henrietta. There was something to tell of every
- field, every tree, or every villager, with whom he exchanged his hearty
- greeting. If it were only a name, it recalled some story of mamma’s, some
- tradition handed on by Beatrice. Never was walk more delightful; and the
- girls were almost sorry to find themselves at the green gate of the
- Pleasance, leading to a gravel road, great part of which had been usurped
- by the long shoots of the evergreens. Indeed, the place could hardly be
- said to correspond in appearance to its name, in its chilly, deserted,
- unfurnished state; but the girls were resolved to admire, and while Uncle
- Geoffrey was deep in the subject of repairs and deficiencies, they flitted
- about from garret to cellar, making plans, fixing on rooms, and seeing
- possibilities, in complete enjoyment. But even this could not last for
- ever; and rather tired, and very cold, they seated themselves on a step of
- the stairs, and there built a marvellous castle of delight for next
- summer; then talked over the Sutton Leigh household, discussed the last
- books they had read, and had just begun to yawn, when Uncle Geoffrey,
- being more merciful than most busy men, concluded his business, and
- summoned them to return home. Their homeward walk was by a different road,
- through the village of Knight Sutton itself, which Henrietta had not yet
- seen. It was a long straggling street, the cottages for the most part in
- gardens, and with a general look of comfort and neatness that showed the
- care of the proprietor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, here is the church,” said Henrietta, in a subdued voice, as they came
- to the low flint wall that fenced in the slightly rising ground occupied
- by the churchyard, surrounded by a whole grove of noble elm trees, amongst
- which could just be seen the small old church, with its large deep porch
- and curious low tower.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The door is open,” said Beatrice; “I suppose they are bringing in the
- holly for Christmas. Should you like to look in, Henrietta?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not know,” said she, looking at her uncle. “Mamma—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think it might be less trying if she has not to feel for you and
- herself too,” said Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure I should wish it very much,” said Henrietta, and they entered
- the low, dark, solemn-looking building, the massive stone columns and
- low-browed arches of which had in them something peculiarly awful and
- impressive to Henrietta’s present state of mind. Uncle Geoffrey led her on
- into the chancel, where, among numerous mural tablets recording the names
- of different members of the Langford family, was one chiefly noticeable
- for the superior taste of its Gothic canopy, and which bore the name of
- Frederick Henry Langford, with the date of his death, and his age, only
- twenty-six. One of the large flat stones below also had the initials
- F.H.L., and the date of the year. Henrietta stood and looked in deep
- silence, Beatrice watching her earnestly and kindly, and her uncle’s
- thoughts almost as much as hers, on what might have been. Her father had
- been so near him in age, so constantly his companion, so entirely one in
- mind and temper, that he had been far more to him than his elder brother,
- and his death had been the one great sorrow of Uncle Geoffrey’s life.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first sound which broke the stillness was the opening of the door, as
- the old clerk’s wife entered with a huge basket of holly, and dragging a
- mighty branch behind her. Uncle Geoffrey nodded in reply to her courtesy,
- and gave his daughter a glance which sent her to the other end of the
- church to assist in the Christmas decorations.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta turned her liquid eyes upon her uncle. “This is coming very near
- him!” said she in a low voice. “Uncle; I wish I might be quite sure that
- he knows me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not wish too much for certainty which has not been granted to us,”
- said Uncle Geoffrey. “Think rather of ‘I shall go to him, but he shall not
- return to me.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, uncle, you would not have me not believe that he is near to me and
- knows how—how I would have loved him, and how I do love him,” she
- added, while the tears rose to her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It may be so, my dear, and it is a thought which is not only most
- comforting, but good for us, as bringing us closer to the unseen world:
- but it has not been positively revealed, and it seems to me better to
- dwell on that time when the meeting with him is so far certain that it
- depends but on ourselves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- To many persons, Uncle Geoffrey would scarce have spoken in this way; but
- he was aware of a certain tendency in Henrietta’s mind to merge the
- reverence and respect she owed to her parents, in a dreamy unpractical
- feeling for the father whom she had never known, whose voice she had never
- heard, and from whom she had not one precept to obey; while she lost sight
- of that honour and duty which was daily called for towards her mother. It
- was in honour, not in love, that Henrietta was wanting, and with how many
- daughters is it not the same? It was therefore, that though even to
- himself it seemed harsh, and cost him a pang, Mr. Geoffrey Langford
- resolved that his niece’s first visit to her father’s grave should not be
- spent in fruitless dreams of him or of his presence, alluring because
- involving neither self-reproach nor resolution; but in thoughts which
- might lead to action, to humility, and to the yielding up of self-will.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta looked very thoughtful. “That time is so far away!” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you know that?” said her uncle in the deep low tone that brought
- the full perception that “it is nigh, even at the doors.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She gave a sort of shuddering sigh, the reality being doubly brought home
- to her, by the remembrance of the suddenness of her father’s summons.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is awful,” she said. “I cannot bear to think of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta,” said her uncle solemnly, “guard yourself from being so
- satisfied with a dream of the present as to lose sight of the real, most
- real future.” He paused, and as she did not speak, went on: “The present,
- which is the means of attaining to that future, is one not of visions and
- thoughts, but of deeds.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again Henrietta sighed, but presently she said, “But, uncle, that would
- bring us back to the world of sense. Are we not to pray that we may in
- heart and mind ascend?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but to dwell with Whom? Not to stop short with objects once of
- earthly affection.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then would you not have me think of him at all?” said she, almost
- reproachfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would have you take care, Henrietta, lest the thought should absorb the
- love and trust due to your true and Heavenly Father, and at the same time
- you forget what on earth is owed to your mother. Do you think that is what
- your father would desire?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean,” she said sadly, “that while I do not think enough of God, and
- while I love my own way so well, I have no right to dwell on the thought I
- love best, the thought that he is near.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take it rather as a caution than as blame,” said Uncle Geoffrey. A long
- silence ensued, during which Henrietta thought deeply on the new idea
- opened to her. Her vision, for it could not be called her memory of her
- father, had in fact been too highly enshrined in her mind, too much
- worshipped, she had deemed this devotion a virtue, and fostered as it was
- by the solitude of her life, and the temper of her mother’s mind, the
- truth was as Uncle Geoffrey had hinted, and she began to perceive it, but
- still it was most unwillingly, for the thought was cherished so as to be
- almost part of herself. Uncle Geoffrey’s manner was so kind that she could
- not be vexed with him, but she was disappointed, for she had hoped for a
- narration of some part of her father’s history, and for the indulgence of
- that soft sorrow which has in it little pain. Instead of this she was
- bidden to quit her beloved world, to soar above it, or to seek for a duty
- which she had rather not believe that she had neglected, though—no,
- she did not like to look deeper.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford gave her time for thought, though of what nature it
- might be, he could not guess, and then said, “One thing more before we
- leave this place. Whether Fred cheerfully obeys the fifth commandment in
- its full extent, may often, as I believe, depend on your influence. Will
- you try to exert it in the right way?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean when he wishes to do things like other boys of his age,” said
- Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. Think yourself, and lead him to think, that obedience is better than
- what he fancies manliness. Teach him to give up pleasure for the sake of
- obedience, and you will do your work as a sister and daughter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While Uncle Geoffrey was speaking, Beatrice’s operations with the holly
- had brought her a good deal nearer to them, and at the same time the
- church door opened, and a gentleman entered, whom the first glance showed
- Henrietta to be Mr. Franklin, the clergyman of the parish, of whom she had
- heard so much. He advanced on seeing Beatrice with the holly in her hand.
- “Miss Langford! This is just what I was wishing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was just helping old Martha,” said Beatrice; “we came in to show my
- cousin the church, and—”
- </p>
- <p>
- By this time the others had advanced.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How well the church looks this dark afternoon,” said Uncle Geoffrey,
- speaking in a low tone, “it is quite the moment to choose for seeing it
- for the first time. But you are very early in beginning your adornments.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought if I had the evergreens here in time, I might see a little to
- the arrangement myself,” said Mr. Franklin, “but I am afraid I know very
- little about the matter. Miss Langford, I wish you would assist us with
- your taste.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice and Henrietta looked at each other, and their eyes sparkled with
- delight. “I should like it exceedingly,” said the former; “I was just
- thinking what capabilities there are. And Henrietta will do it
- beautifully.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then will you really be kind enough to come to-morrow, and see what can
- be done?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, we will come as soon as ever breakfast is over, and work hard,” said
- Queen Bee. “And we will make Alex and Fred come too, to do the places that
- are out of reach.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, thank you,” said Mr. Franklin, eagerly; “I assure you the
- matter was quite upon my mind, for the old lady there, good as she is,
- certainly has not the best taste in church dressing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And pray, Mr. Franklin, let us have a step ladder, for I am sure there
- ought to be festoons round those two columns of the chancel arch. Look,
- papa, do you not think so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You might put a twining wreath like the columns at Roslin chapel,” said
- her papa, “and I should try how much I could cover the Dutch cherubs at
- the head of the tables of commandments.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, and don’t you see,” said Henrietta, “there in front of the altar is a
- space, where I really think we might make the cross and ‘I H S’ in holly?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But could you, Henrietta?” asked Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, I know I can; I made ‘M.L.’ in roses on mamma’s last birthday, and
- set it up over the chimney-piece in the drawing-room, and I am sure we
- could contrive this. How appropriate it will look!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” said Mr. Franklin, “I have heard of such things, but I had always
- considered them as quite above our powers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They would be, without Henrietta,” said Queen Bee, “but she was always
- excellent as wreath weaving, and all those things that belong to choice
- taste and clever fingers. Only let us have plenty of the wherewithal, and
- we will do our work so as to amaze the parish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “we must be walking home, my young ladies.
- It is getting quite dark.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was indeed, for as they left the church the sunlight was fast fading on
- the horizon, and Venus was already shining forth in pure quiet beauty on
- the clear blue sky. Mr. Franklin walked a considerable part of the way
- home with them, adding to Henrietta’s list by asking counsel about a damp
- spot in the wall of the church, and on the measures to be adopted with a
- refractory farmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the time they reached home, evening was fast closing in; and at the
- sound of their entrance Mrs. Langford and Frederick both came to meet them
- in the hall, the former asking anxiously whether they had not been
- lingering in the cold and damp, inspecting the clogs to see that they were
- dry, and feeling if the fingers were cold. She then ordered the two girls
- up stairs to dress before going into the drawing-room with their things
- on, and told Henrietta to remember that dinner would be at half-past five.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is mamma gone up?” asked Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, my dear, long ago; she has been out with your grandpapa, and is gone
- to rest herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how long have you been at home, Fred?” said Queen Bee. “Why, you have
- performed your toilette already! Why did you not come to meet us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should have had a long spy-glass to see which way you were gone,” said
- Fred, in a tone which, to Henrietta’s ears, implied that he was not quite
- pleased, and then, following his sister up stairs, he went on to her, “I
- wish I had never come in, but it was about three, and Alex and Carey
- thought we might as well get a bit of something for luncheon, and thereby
- they had the pleasure of seeing mamma send her pretty dear up to change
- his shoes and stockings. So there was an end of me for the day. I declare
- it is getting too absurd! Do persuade mamma that I am not made of sugar
- candy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With Uncle Geoffrey’s admonitions fresh in her mind, these complaints
- sounded painfully in Henrietta’s ears, and she would gladly have soothed
- away his irritation; but, however convenient Judith might find the stairs
- for private conferences, they did not appear to her equally appropriate,
- especially when at the very moment grandpapa was coming down from above
- and grandmamma up from below. Both she and Fred therefore retreated into
- their mamma’s room, where they found her sitting on a low stool by the
- fire, reading by its light one of the old childish books, of which she
- seemed never to weary. Fred’s petulance, to do him justice, never could
- endure the charm of her presence, and his brow was as bright and open as
- his sister’s as he came forward, hoping that she was not tired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite the contrary, thank you, my dear,” said she, smiling; “I enjoyed my
- walk exceedingly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A walk!” exclaimed Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A crawl, perhaps you would call it, but a delightful crawl it was with
- grandpapa up and down what we used to call the sun walk, by the kitchen
- garden wall. And now, Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, where have you been?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve been to Sutton Leigh, with the good Queen,” answered Henrietta,
- gaily. “I have seen everything—Sutton Leigh, and the Pleasance, and
- the church! And, mamma, Mr. Franklin has asked us to go and dress the
- church for Christmas! Is not that what of all things is delightful? Only
- think of church-decking! What I have read and heard of, but I always
- thought it something too great and too happy for me ever to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope you will be able to succeed in it,” said her mamma. “What a treat
- it will be to see your work on Sunday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are to help, too, Fred; you and Alexander are to come and reach
- the high places for us. But do tell us your adventures.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred had been all over the farm; had been introduced to the whole live
- stock, including ferrets and the tame hedge-hog; visited the plantations,
- and assisted at the killing of a stoat; cut his name out on the bark of
- the old pollard; and, in short, had been supremely happy. He “was just
- going to see Dumpling and Vixen’s puppies at Sutton Leigh, when—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I caught you, my poor boy,” said his mamma; “and very cruel it was,
- I allow, but I thought you might have gone out again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had no other thick shoes upstairs; but really, mamma, no one thinks of
- minding those things.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You should have seen him, Henrietta,” said his mother; “his shoes looked
- as if he had been walking through a river.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but so were all the others,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very likely, but they are more used to it; and, besides, they are such
- sturdy fellows. I should as soon think of a deal board catching cold. But
- you—if there is as much substance in you, it is all height; and you
- know, Fred, you would find it considerably more tiresome to be laid up
- with a bad cold.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never catch cold,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boys always say so,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford; “it is a—what
- shall I call it?—a puerile delusion, which their mammas can always
- defeat when they choose by a formidable list of colds and coughs; but I
- won’t put you in mind of how often you have sat with your feet on the
- fender croaking like an old raven, and solacing yourself with
- stick-liquorice and Ivanhoe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You had better allow him to proceed in his pursuit of a cold, mamma,”
- said Henrietta, “just to see how grandmamma will nurse it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A knock at the door here put an end to the conversation, by announcing the
- arrival of Bennet, Mrs. Frederick Langford’s maid; who had come in such
- good time that Henrietta was, for once in her life, full dressed a whole
- quarter of an hour before dinner time. Nor was her involuntary punctuality
- without a reward, for the interval of waiting for dinner, sitting round
- the fire, was particularly enjoyed by Mr. and Mrs. Langford; and Uncle
- Geoffrey, therefore, always contrived to make it a leisure time; and there
- was so much merriment in talking over the walk, and discussing the plans
- for the Pleasance, that Henrietta resolved never again to miss such a
- pleasant reunion by her own tardiness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor was the evening less agreeable. Henrietta pleased grandmamma by
- getting her carpet-work out of some puzzle, and by flying across the room
- to fetch the tea-chest: she delighted grandpapa by her singing, and by
- finding his spectacles for him; she did quite a praiseworthy piece of her
- own crochet purse, and laughed a great deal at the battle that was going
- on between Queen Bee and Fred about the hero of some new book. She kept
- her list of Uncle Geoffrey’s manifold applicants on the table before her,
- and had the pleasure of increasing it by two men, business unknown, who
- sent to ask him to come and speak to them; by a loud and eager appeal from
- Fred and Beatrice to decide their contest, by a question of taste on the
- shades of grandmamma’s carpet-work, and by her own query how to translate
- a difficult German passage which had baffled herself, mamma, and Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, Queen Bee’s number, fifty, had not been attained, and her majesty
- was obliged to declare that she meant in a week instead of a day, for
- which reason the catalogue was written out fair, to be continued.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Frederick Langford thought herself well recompensed for the pain her
- resolution had cost her, by the pleasure that Mr. and Mrs. Langford
- evidently took in her son and daughter, by the brightness of her two
- children’s own faces, and especially when Henrietta murmured in her sleep
- something about “delightful,” “bright leaves and red berries,” and then,
- “and ‘tis for my own dear papa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And after all, in the attainment of their fondest wish, were Henrietta and
- Frederick as serenely happy as she was?
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Christmas Eve, which was also a Saturday, dawned brightly on Henrietta,
- but even her eagerness for her new employment could not so far overcome
- her habitual dilatoriness as not to annoy her cousin, Busy Bee, even to a
- degree of very unnecessary fidgeting when there was any work in hand. She
- sat on thorns all breakfast time, devoured what her grandpapa called a
- sparrow’s allowance, swallowed her tea scalding, and thereby gained
- nothing but leisure to fret at the deliberation with which Henrietta cut
- her bread into little square dice, and spread her butter on them as if
- each piece was to serve as a model for future generations.
- </p>
- <p>
- The subject of conversation was not precisely calculated to soothe her
- spirits. Grandmamma was talking of giving a young party—a New-year’s
- party on Monday week, the second of January. “It would be pleasant for the
- young people,” she thought, “if Mary did not think it would be too much
- for her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice looked despairingly at her aunt, well knowing what her answer
- would be, that it would not be at all too much for her, that she should be
- very glad to see her former neighbours, and that it would be a great treat
- to Henrietta and Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We will have the carpet up in the dining-room,” added Mrs. Langford, “and
- Daniels, the carpenter, shall bring his violin, and we can get up a nice
- little set for a dance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O thank you, grandmamma,” cried Henrietta eagerly, as Mrs. Langford
- looked at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor innocent, you little know!” murmured Queen Bee to herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is right, Henrietta,” said Mrs. Langford, “I like to see young
- people like young people, not above a dance now and then,—all in
- moderation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Above dancing,” said grandpapa, who, perhaps, took this as a reflection
- on his pet, Queen Bee, “that is what you call being on the high rope,
- isn’t it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice, though feeling excessively savage, could not help laughing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you on the high rope, Queenie?” asked Fred, who sat next to her: “do
- you despise the light fantastic—?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know: I do not mind it much,” was all she could bring herself to
- say, though she could not venture to be more decidedly ungracious before
- her father. “Not much in itself,” she added, in a lower tone, as the
- conversation grew louder, “it is the people, Philip Carey, and all,—but
- hush! listen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He did so, and heard Careys, Dittons, Evanses, &c., enumerated, and at
- each name Beatrice looked gloomier, but she was not observed, for her Aunt
- Mary had much to hear about the present state of the families, and the
- stream of conversation flowed away from the fête.
- </p>
- <p>
- The meal was at last concluded, and Beatrice in great haste ordered
- Frederick off to Sutton Leigh, with a message to Alex to meet them at the
- Church, and bring as much holly as he could, and his great knife. “Bring
- him safe,” said she, “for if you fail, and prove a corbie messenger, I
- promise you worse than the sharpest sting of the most angry bee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Away she ran to fetch her bonnet and shawl, while Henrietta walked up
- after her, saying she would just fetch her mamma’s writing-case down for
- her, and then get ready directly. On coming down, she could not help
- waiting a moment before advancing to the table, to hear what was passing
- between her mother and uncle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you like for me to drive you down to the Church to-day?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you,” she answered, raising her mild blue eyes, “I think not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Remember, it will be perfectly convenient, and do just what suits you,”
- said he in a voice of kind solicitude.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you very much, Geoffrey,” she replied, in an earnest tone, “but
- indeed I had better go for the first time to the service, especially on
- such a day as to-morrow, when thoughts must be in better order.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand,” said Uncle Geoffrey: and Henrietta, putting down the
- writing-case, retreated with downcast eyes, with a moment’s perception of
- the higher tone of mind to which he had tried to raise her.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the hall she found Mrs. Langford engaged in moving her precious family
- of plants from their night quarters near the fire to the bright sunshine
- near the window. Henrietta seeing her lifting heavy flower-pots, instantly
- sprang forward with, “O grandmamma, let me help.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Little as Mrs. Langford was wont to allow herself to be assisted, she was
- gratified with the obliging offer, and Henrietta had carried the myrtle,
- the old-fashioned oak-leaved geranium, with its fragrant deeply-indented
- leaves, a grim-looking cactus, and two or three more, and was deep in the
- story of the orange-tree, the pip of which had been planted by Uncle
- Geoffrey at five years old, but which never seemed likely to grow beyond
- the size of a tolerable currant-bush, when Beatrice came down and beheld
- her with consternation—“Henrietta! Henrietta! what are you about?”
- cried she, breaking full into the story. “Do make haste.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will come in a minute,” said Henrietta, who was assisting in adjusting
- the prop to which the old daphne was tied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t stop for me, my dear,” said Mrs. Langford: “there, don’t let me be
- in your way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, grandmamma, I like to do this very much.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, Henrietta,” persisted the despotic Queen Bee, “we really ought to be
- there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is all this about?” said grandmamma, not particularly well pleased.
- “There, go, go, my dear; I don’t want any more, thank you: what are you in
- such a fuss for now, going out all day again?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, grandmamma,” said Beatrice, “did you not hear that Mr. Franklin
- asked us to dress the church for to-morrow? and we must not waste time in
- these short days.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dress the church! Well, I suppose you must have your own way, but I never
- heard of such things in my younger days. Young ladies are very different
- now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice drove Henrietta up-stairs with a renewed “Do make haste,” and
- then replied in a tone of argument and irritation, “I do not see why young
- ladies should not like dressing churches for festivals better than
- arraying themselves for balls and dances!”
- </p>
- <p>
- True as the speech was, how would Beatrice have liked to have seen her
- father or mother stand before her at that moment?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, well! it is all very well,” said grandmamma, shaking her head, as she
- always did when out-argued by Beatrice, “you girls think yourselves so
- clever, there is no talking to you; but I think you had much better let
- old Martha alone; she has done it well enough before ever you were born,
- and such a litter as you will make the Church won’t be fit to be seen
- to-morrow! All day in that cold damp place too! I wonder Mary could
- consent, Henrietta looks very delicate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, grandmamma, she is quite strong, very strong indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure she is hoarse this morning,” proceeded Mrs. Langford; “I shall
- speak to her mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O don’t, pray, grandmamma; she would be so disappointed. And what would
- Mr. Franklin do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O very well, I promise you, as he has done before,” said Mrs. Langford,
- hastening off to the drawing-room, while her granddaughter darted upstairs
- to hurry Henrietta out of the house before a prohibition could arrive. It
- was what Henrietta had too often assisted Fred in doing to have many
- scruples, besides which she knew how grieved her mamma would be to be
- obliged to stop her, and how glad to find her safe out of reach; so she
- let her cousin heap on shawls, fur cuffs, and boas in a far less leisurely
- and discriminating manner than was usual with her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would be absolute sneaking (to use an elegant word), I suppose,” said
- Beatrice, “to go down the back stairs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “True,” said Henrietta, “we will even take the bull by the horns.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And trust to our heels,” said Beatrice, stealthily opening the door; “the
- coast is clear, and I know both your mamma and my papa will not stop us if
- they can help it. One, two, three, and away!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Off they flew, down the stairs, across the hall, and up the long green
- walk, before they ventured to stop for Henrietta to put on her gloves, and
- take up the boa that was dragging behind her like a huge serpent. And
- after all, there was no need for their flight; they might have gone openly
- and with clear consciences, had they but properly and submissively waited
- the decision of their elders. Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who did not know how
- ill his daughter had been behaving, would have been very sorry to
- interfere with the plan, and easily reconciled his mother to it, in his
- own cheerful pleasant way. Indeed her opposition had been entirely caused
- by Beatrice herself; she had not once thought of objecting when it had
- been first mentioned the evening before, and had not Beatrice not first
- fidgeted and then argued, would only have regarded it as a pleasant way of
- occupying their morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could scold you, Miss Drone,” said Beatrice when the two girls had set
- themselves to rights, and recovered breath; “it was all the fault of your
- dawdling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, perhaps it was,” said Henrietta, “but you know I could not see
- grandmamma lifting those flower-pots without offering to help her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How many more times shall I have to tell you that grandmamma hates to be
- helped?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then she was very kind to me,” replied Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see how it will be,” said Beatrice, smiling, “you will be grandmamma’s
- pet, and it will be a just division. I never yet could get her to let me
- help her in anything, she is so resolutely independent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Queen Bee did not take into account how often her service was either
- grudgingly offered, or else when she came with a good will, it was also
- with a way, it might be better, it might be worse, but in which she was
- determined to have the thing done, and against which her grandmamma was of
- course equally resolute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is an amazing person!” said Henrietta. “Is she eighty yet?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seventy-nine,” said Beatrice; “and grandpapa eighty-two. I always say I
- think we should get the prize in a show of grandfathers and grandmothers,
- if there was one like Uncle Roger’s fat cattle shows. You know she thinks
- nothing of walking twice to church on a Sunday, and all over the village
- besides when there is anybody ill. But here is the Sutton Leigh path. Let
- me see if those boys are to be trusted. Yes, yes, that’s right! Capital!”
- cried she in high glee; “here is Birnam wood coming across the field.” And
- springing on one of the bars of the gate near the top, she flourished her
- handkerchief, chanting or singing,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Greet thee well, thou holly green, Welcome, welcome, art thou seen, With
- all thy glittering garlands bending, As to greet my—quick
- descending:”
- </p>
- <p>
- she finished in an altered tone, as she was obliged to spring
- precipitately down to avoid a fall. “It made a capital conclusion,
- however, though not quite what I had proposed. Well, gentlemen,” as four
- or five of the boys came up, each bearing a huge holly bush—“Well,
- gentlemen, you are a sight for sair een.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With sair fingers, you mean,” said Fred; “these bushes scratch like half
- a dozen wild cats.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is in too good a cause for me to pity you,” said Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor would I accept it if you would,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- His sister, however, seemed determined on bestowing it whether he would or
- not,—“How your hands are bleeding! Have you any thorns in them? Let
- me see, I have my penknife.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stuff!” was Fred’s gracious reply, as he glanced at Alex and Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why did you not put on your gloves?” proceeded Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gloves, nonsense!” said Fred, who never went without them at Rocksand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He will take up the gauntlet presently,” said Beatrice. “By the by, Alex,
- how many pairs of gloves have you had or lost in your life?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I always keep a pair for Sundays and for Allonfield,” said Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jessie says she will never let me drive her again without them,” said
- Carey, “but trust me for that: I hate them, they are such girl’s things; I
- tell her then she can’t be driven.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred could not bear to hear of Carey’s driving, a thing which he had not
- yet been permitted to attempt, and he hastily broke in, “You have not told
- the news yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What news?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Euphrosyne is coming home,” cried the boys with one voice. “Had we
- not told you? The Euphrosyne is coming home, and Roger may be here any
- day!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is something like news,” said Queen Bee; “I thought it would only be
- that the puppies could see, or that Tom’s tooth was through. Grandpapa has
- not heard it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa is going up to tell him,” said John. “I was going too, only Alex
- bagged me to carry his holly-bush.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so the great Rogero is coming home!” said Beatrice. “How you will
- learn to talk sea slang! And how happy grandmamma will be, especially if
- he comes in time for her great affair. Do you hear, Alex? you must
- practise your steps, for grandmamma is going to give a grand party, Careys
- and Evanses, and all, on purpose to gratify Fred’s great love of dancing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I love dancing?” exclaimed Fred, in a tone of astonishment and contempt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, did you not look quite enraptured at breakfast when it was proposed?
- I expected you every moment to ask the honour of my hand for the first
- quadrille, but I suppose you leave it for Philip Carey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it comes at all you must start me, Bee,” said Alex, “for I am sure I
- can’t dance with any one but you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me request it now,” said Fred, “though why you should think I like
- dancing I cannot imagine! I am sure nothing but your Majesty can make it
- endurable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are compliments to your Majesty,” cried Henrietta, laughing; “one
- will not or cannot dance at all without her, the other cannot find it
- endurable! I long to see which is to be gratified.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Time will show,” said Beatrice; “I shall ponder on their requests, and
- decide maturely, Greek against Prussian, lover of the dance against hater
- of the dance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t love it, I declare,” exclaimed Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t mind it, if you dance with me,” said Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Beatrice was in her glory, teasing them both, and feeling herself the
- object of attention to both.
- </p>
- <p>
- Flirtation is not a pleasant word, and it is one which we are apt to think
- applies chiefly to the manners of girls, vain of their personal
- appearance, and wanting in sense or education. Beatrice would have thought
- herself infinitely above it; but what else was her love of attention, her
- delight in playing off her two cousins against each other? Beauty, or the
- consciousness of beauty, has little to do with it. Henrietta, if ever the
- matter occurred to her, could not help knowing that she was uncommonly
- pretty, yet no one could be more free from any tendency to this habit.
- Beatrice knew equally well that she was plain, but that did not make the
- least difference; if any, it was rather on the side of vanity, in being
- able without a handsome face, so to attract and engross her cousins. It
- was amusing, gratifying, flattering, to feel her power to play them off,
- and irritate the little feelings of jealousy which she had detected; and
- thoughtless as to the right or wrong, she pursued her course.
- </p>
- <p>
- On reaching the church they found that, as was usual with her, she had
- brought them before any one was ready; the doors were locked, and they had
- to wait while Carey and John went to old Martha’s to fetch the key. In a
- few minutes more Mr. Franklin arrived, well pleased to see them ready to
- fulfil their promise; the west door was opened, and disclosed a huge heap
- of holly laid up under the tower, ready for use.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first thing the boys did was to go up into the belfry, and out on the
- top of the tower, and Busy Bee had a great mind to follow them; but she
- thought it would not be fair to Mr. Franklin, and the wide field upon
- which she had to work began to alarm her imagination.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before the boys came down again, she had settled the plan of operations
- with Henrietta and Mr. Franklin, dragged her holly bushes into the aisle,
- and brought out her knife and string. They came down declaring that they
- could be of no use, and they should go away, and Beatrice made no
- objection to the departure of Carey and Johnny, who, as she justly
- observed, would be only in the way; but she insisted on keeping Fred and
- Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look at all those pillars! How are we ever to twine them by ourselves?
- Look at all those great bushes! How are we to lift them? No, no, indeed,
- we cannot spare you, Fred. We must have some stronger hands to help us,
- and you have such a good eye for this sort of thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Had Alexander gone, Fred would have found some excuse for following him,
- rather than he should leave him with young ladies, doing young ladies’
- work; but, as Beatrice well knew, Alex would never withdraw his assistance
- when she asked Fred’s, and she felt secure of them both.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There, Alex, settle that ladder by the screen, please. Now will you see
- if there is anything to tie a piece of string to? for it is of no use to
- make a festoon if we cannot fasten it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can’t see anything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, give me your hand, and I’ll look.” Up tripped the little Bee, just
- holding by his hand. “Yes, to be sure there is! Here is a great rough nail
- sticking out. Is it firm? Yes, capitally. Now, Alex, make a sailor’s knot
- round it. Help me down first though—thank you. Fred, will you trim
- that branch into something like shape. You see how I mean. We must have a
- long drooping wreath of holly and ivy, to blend with the screen. How tough
- this ivy is! Thank you—that’s it. Well, Mr. Franklin, I hope we
- shall get on in time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Franklin was sure of it; and seeing all actively employed, and himself
- of little use, he took his leave for the present, hoping that the Misses
- Langford would not tire themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- Angels’ work is Church decoration—work fit for angels, that is to
- say; but how pure should be the hands and hearts engaged in it! Its
- greatness makes it solemn and awful. It is work immediately for the glory
- of God; it is work like that of the children who strewed the palm-branches
- before the steps of the Redeemer! Who can frame in imagination a more
- favoured and delightful occupation, than that of the four young creatures
- who were, in very deed, greeting the coming of their Lord with those
- bright and glistening wreaths with which they were adorning His sanctuary?
- </p>
- <p>
- Angels’ work! but the angels veil their faces and tremble; and we upon
- earth have still greater cause to tremble and bow down in awful reverence,
- when we are allowed to approach so near His shrine. And was that spirit of
- holy fear—that sole desire for His glory—the chief thought
- with these young people?
- </p>
- <p>
- Not that there was what even a severe judge could call irreverence in word
- or deed; there was no idle laughter, and the conversation was in a tone
- and a style which showed that they were all well trained in respect for
- the sanctity of the place. Even in all the helping up and down ladders and
- steps, in the reaching over for branches, in all the little mishaps and
- adventures that befell them, their behaviour was outwardly perfectly what
- it ought to have been; and that is no small praise for four young people,
- under seventeen, left in church alone together for so many hours.
- </p>
- <p>
- But still Beatrice’s great aim was, unconsciously perhaps, to keep the two
- boys entirely devoted to herself, and to exert her power. Wonderful power
- it was in reality, which kept them interested in employment so little
- accordant with their nature; kept them amused without irreverence, and
- doing good service all the time. But it was a power of which she greatly
- enjoyed the exercise, and which did nothing to lessen the rivalry between
- them. As to Henrietta, she was sitting apart on a hassock, very happy, and
- very busy in arranging the Monogram and wreath which she had yesterday
- proposed. She was almost forgotten by the other three—certainly
- neglected—but she did not feel it so; she had rather be quiet, for
- she could not work and talk like Queen Bee; and she liked to think over
- the numerous verses and hymns that her employment brought to her mind.
- Uncle Geoffrey’s conversation dwelt upon her too; she began to realize his
- meaning, and she was especially anxious to fulfil his desire, by
- entreating Fred to beware of temptations to disobedience. Opportunities
- for private interviews were, however, very rare at Knight Sutton, and she
- had been looking forward to having him all to herself here, when he must
- wish to visit his father’s grave with her. She was vexed for a moment that
- his first attention was not given to it; but she knew that his first
- thought was there, and boys never showed what was uppermost in their minds
- to anyone but their sisters. She should have him by and by, and the
- present was full of tranquil enjoyment.
- </p>
- <p>
- If Henrietta had been free from blame in coming to Knight Sutton at all,
- or in her way of leaving the house this morning, there would have been
- little or no drawback to our pleasure in contemplating her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it possible!” exclaimed Queen Bee, as the last reverberation of the
- single stroke of the deep-toned clock fell quivering on her ear. “I
- thought you would have given us at least eleven more.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a quantity remains to be done!” sighed Henrietta, laying down the
- wreath which she had just completed. “Your work looks beautiful, Queenie,
- but how shall we ever finish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A short winter’s day, too!” said Beatrice. “One thing is certain—that
- we can’t go home to luncheon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What will grandmamma think of that?” said Henrietta doubtfully. “Will she
- like it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice could have answered, “Not at all;” but she said, “O never mind,
- it can’t be helped; we should be late even if we were to set off now, and
- besides we might be caught and stopped.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, that would be worse than anything,” said Henrietta, quite convinced.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So you mean to starve,” said Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “See what slaves men are to creature comforts,” said Beatrice; “what do
- you say, Henrietta?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had much rather stay here,” said Henrietta; “I want nothing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much better fun to go without,” said Fred, who had not often enough
- missed a regular meal not to think doing so an honour and a joke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll tell you what will do best of all!” cried Queen Bee. “You go to Dame
- Reid’s, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls the extreme
- of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men’s bench in the porch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts,” said Alex. “I
- thought she would soon come down to other mortals.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only to gratify her famishing subjects,” said Beatrice, “you disloyal
- vassal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is sure
- to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr. Geoffrey
- is coming.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For his private eating?” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the
- village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the
- children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little Jenny
- Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger. But
- come, Alex, why are you not off?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I don’t happen to have a sixpence,” said Alex, with an honest
- openness, overcoming his desire to add “in my pocket.” It cost him an
- effort; for at school, where each slight advantage was noted, and
- comparisons perpetually made, Fred’s superior wealth and larger allowance
- had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either knew it not,
- or despised such mammon worship, his rival was sufficiently awake to it to
- be uncomfortable in acknowledging his poverty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Every one is poor at the end of the half,” said Fred, tossing up his
- purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. “Here is
- a sixpence, though, at her Majesty’s service.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to
- loyalty?” said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. “We are not fallen quite
- so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, locked up in
- my desk at home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And my purse is in my workbox,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present,” said Beatrice, “if
- it won’t quite break you down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are more where that came from,” said Fred, with a careless air.
- “Come along, Alex.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Away they went. “That is unlucky,” soliloquised Queen Bee: “if I could
- have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have come
- back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall see them
- no more.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, that would be rather too bad,” said Henrietta. “I am sure Fred
- will behave better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mark what I say,” said Beatrice. “I know how it will be; a dog or a gun
- is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them again
- ‘twill be a nine days’ wonder. But come, we must to the work; I want to
- look at your wreath.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not, however, work quite as cheerily as before, and lost much time
- in running backwards and forwards to peep out at the door, and in
- protesting that she was neither surprised nor annoyed at the faithlessness
- of her envoys. At last a droll little frightened knock was heard at the
- door. Beatrice went to open it, and a whitey-brown paper parcel was held
- out to her by a boy in a green canvas round frock, and a pair of round,
- hard, red, solid-looking cheeks; no other than Dame Reid’s grandson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you,” said she. “Did Master Alexander give you this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, that’s right!” and away he went.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see,” said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came
- out to the porch. “Let us look. O, they have vouchsafed a note!” and she
- took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary’s handwriting to Fred,
- on the back of which Alex had written, “Dear B., we beg pardon, but Carey
- and Dick are going up to Andrews’s about his terrier.—A. L.” “Very
- cool, certainly!” said Beatrice, laughing, but still with a little pique.
- “What a life I will lead them!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you were a true prophet,” said Henrietta, “and after all it does
- not much signify. They have done all the work that is out of reach; but
- still I thought Fred would have behaved better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me,
- and Fred with his own congeners,” said Beatrice; “you don’t know half the
- phases of boy nature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she expected
- him to-day. Not because he had appeared to forget her, for that was
- nothing—that was only appearance, and her love was too healthy and
- true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his father’s grave. He
- was now neglecting the church; and far from its consoling her to hear that
- it was the way with all boys when they came together, it gave her one
- moment’s doubt whether they were not happier, when they were all in all to
- each other at Rocksand.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it had
- passed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, and
- smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by the
- natives of Knight Sutton. They took a short walk up and down the
- churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well
- pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already. They
- worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her squires
- was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest and in the
- right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of this service
- came over her, and she really possessed some of that temper of devotion
- which she fancied had been with her the whole day.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was
- kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a low,
- timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hark! the herald angels sing Glory to the new-born King, Peace on earth,
- and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their tones
- echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with delight and
- thankfulness for the “good tidings of great joy.” Another and another
- Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by happier voices;
- and the decorations proceeded all the better and more suitably beneath
- their influence. They scarcely knew how time passed away, till Henrietta,
- turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey standing just within the
- door watching them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beautiful!” said he, as she suddenly ceased, in some confusion; “your
- work is beautiful! I came here prepared to scold you a little, but I don’t
- think I can. Who made that wreath and Monogram?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She did, of course, papa,” said Beatrice, pointing to her cousin. “Who
- else could?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a very successful arrangement,” said Uncle Geoffrey, moving about
- to find the spot for obtaining the best view. “It is an arrangement to
- suggest so much.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta came to the place where he stood, and for the first time
- perceived the full effect of her work. It was placed in front of the
- altar, the dark crimson covering of which relieved the shining leaves and
- scarlet berries of the holly. The three letters, I H S, were in the
- centre, formed of small sprays fastened in the required shape; and around
- them was a large circle of holly, plaited and twined together, the
- many-pointed leaves standing out in every direction in their peculiar
- stiff gracefulness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see it now!” said she, in a low voice full of awe. “Uncle, I did not
- mean to make it so!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is like Good Friday!” said she, as the resemblance to the crown of
- thorns struck her more and more strongly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, why not, my dear?” said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him in a
- sort of alarm. “Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not for Good
- Friday?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, it is right uncle; but somehow it is melancholy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where are those verses that say—let me see—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-
- ‘And still Thy Church’s faith Shall link,
- In all her prayer and praise,
- Thy glory with Thy death.’
-</pre>
- <p>
- So you see, Henrietta, you have been guided to do quite right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta gave a little sigh, but did not answer: and Beatrice said, “It
- is a very odd thing, whenever any work of art—or, what shall I call
- it?—is well done, it is apt to have so much more in it than the
- author intended. It is so in poetry, painting, and everything else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is, perhaps, more meaning than we understand, when we talk of the
- spirit in which a thing is done,” said her father: “But have you much more
- to do? Those columns look very well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, are you come to help us, papa?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I came chiefly because grandmamma was a good deal concerned at your not
- coming home to luncheon. You must not be out the whole morning again just
- at present. I have some sandwiches in my pocket for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice explained how they had been fed, and her papa said, “Very well,
- we will find some one who will be glad of them; but mind, do not make her
- think you unsociable again. Do you hear and heed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the sort of tone which, while perfectly kind and gentle, shows that
- it belongs to a man who will be obeyed, and ready compliance was promised.
- He proceeded to give his very valuable aid at once in taste and execution,
- the adornment prospered greatly, and when Mr. Franklin came in, his
- surprise and delight were excited by the beauty which had grown up in his
- absence. The long, drooping, massive wreaths of evergreen at the east end,
- centring in the crown and letters; the spiral festoons round the pillars;
- the sprays in every niche; the tower of holly over the font—all were
- more beautiful, both together and singly, than he had even imagined, and
- he was profuse in admiration and thanks.
- </p>
- <p>
- The work was done; and the two Misses Langford, after one well-satisfied
- survey from the door, bent their steps homeward, looking forward to the
- pleasure with which grandpapa and Aunt Mary would see it to-morrow. As
- they went in the deepening twilight, the whole village seemed vocal:
- children’s voices, shrill and tuneless near, but softened by distance,
- were ringing out here, there, and everywhere, with
- </p>
- <p>
- “As shepherds watch’d their flocks by night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And again, as they walked on, the sound from another band of little voices
- was brought on the still frosty wind—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Glad tidings of great joy I bring To you and all mankind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Imperfect rhymes, bad voices, no time observed; but how joyous,—how
- really Christmas-like—how well it suited the soft half-light, the
- last pale shine of sunset lingering in the south-west! the large solemn
- stars that one by one appeared! How Uncle Geoffrey caught up the lines and
- sang them over to himself! How light and free Beatrice walked!—and
- how the quiet happy tears would rise in Henrietta’s eyes!
- </p>
- <p>
- The singing in the drawing-room that evening, far superior as it was, with
- Henrietta, Beatrice, Frederick, and even Aunt Mary’s beautiful voice, was
- not equal in enjoyment to that. Was it because Beatrice was teasing Fred
- all the time about his defection? The church singers came up to the Hall,
- and the drawing-room door was set open for the party to listen to them;
- grandpapa and Uncle Geoffrey went out to have a talk with them, and so
- passed the space till tea-time; to say nothing of the many little troops
- of young small voices outside the windows, to whom Mrs. Langford’s plum
- buns, and Mr. Geoffrey’s sixpences, were a very enjoyable part of the
- Christmas festivities.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The double feast of Sunday and Christmas-day dawned upon Henrietta with
- many anxieties for her mother, to whom the first going to church must be
- so great a trial. Would that she could, as of old, be at her side the
- whole day! but this privilege, unrecked of at Rocksand, was no longer
- hers. She had to walk to church with grandmamma and the rest of the party,
- while Mrs. Frederick Langford was driven in the open carriage by old Mr.
- Langford, and she was obliged to comfort herself with recollecting that no
- companion ever suited her better than grandpapa. It was a sight to be
- remembered when she came into church, leaning upon his arm, her sweet
- expression of peace and resignation, making her even more lovely than when
- last she entered there—her face in all its early bloom of youthful
- beauty, and radiant with innocent happiness.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Henrietta knew not how to appreciate that “peace which passeth all
- understanding;” and all that she saw was the glistening of tears in her
- eyes, and the heaving of her bosom, as she knelt down in her place; and
- she thought that if she had calculated all that she would have to go
- through, and all her own anxieties for her, she should never have urged
- their removal. She viewed it, however, as a matter of expediency rather
- than of duty, and her feelings were not in the only right and wholesome
- channel. As on the former occasion, Knight Sutton Church seemed to her
- more full of her father’s presence than of any other, so now, throughout
- the service, she was chiefly occupied with watching her mother; and
- entirely by the force of her own imagination, she contrived to work
- herself into a state of nervous apprehension, only equalled by her mamma’s
- own anxieties for Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- Neither she nor any of her young cousins were yet confirmed, so they all
- left the church together. What would she not have given to be able to talk
- her fears over with either Frederick or Beatrice, and be assured by them
- that her mamma had borne it very well, and would not suffer from it. But
- though neither of them was indifferent or unfeeling, there was not much
- likelihood of sympathy from them just at present. Beatrice had always been
- sure that Aunt Mary would behave like an angel; and when Fred saw that his
- mother looked tranquil, and showed no symptoms of agitation, he dismissed
- anxiety from his mind, and never even guessed at his sister’s alarms.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor in reality had he many thoughts for his sister of any kind; for he
- was, as usual, engrossed with Queen Bee, criticising the decorations which
- had been completed in his absence, and, together with Alex, replying to
- the scolding with which she visited their desertion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nothing could have been more eminently successful than the decorations,
- which looked to still greater advantage in the brightness of the morning
- sun than in the dimness of the evening twilight; and many were the
- compliments which the two young ladies received upon their handiwork. The
- old women had “never seen nothing like it,”—the school children
- whispered to each other, “How pretty!” Uncle Geoffrey and Mr. Franklin
- admired even more than before; grandpapa and Aunt Mary were delighted;
- grandmamma herself allowed it was much better than she had expected; and
- Jessie Carey, by way of climax, said it “was like magic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a very different Sunday from those to which Henrietta had been
- accustomed, in the complete quiet and retirement of Rocksand. The Hall was
- so far from the church, that there was but just time to get back in time
- for evening service. After which, according to a practice of which she had
- often heard her mamma speak with many agreeable reminiscences, the
- Langford family almost always went in a body on a progress to the
- farmyard, to visit the fatting oxen and see the cows milked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Roger Langford was at home with little Tom, and Mrs. Frederick
- Langford was glad to seek the tranquillity and repose of her own
- apartment; but all the rest went in procession, greatly to the amusement
- of Fred and Henrietta, to the large barn-like building, where a narrow
- path led them along the front of the stalls of the gentle-looking
- sweet-breathed cows, and the huge white-horned oxen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Roger, as always happened, monopolised his brother, and kept him
- estimating the weight of the great Devon ox, which was next for execution.
- Grandmamma was escorting Charlie and Arthur (whom their grandfather was
- wont to call penultimus and antepenultimus), helping them to feed the cows
- with turnips, and guarding them from going behind their heels. Henrietta
- was extremely happy, for grandpapa himself was doing the honours for her,
- and instructing her in the difference between a Guernsey cow and a
- short-horn; and so was Alexander, for he had Queen Bee all to himself in a
- remote corner of the cow-house, rubbing old spotted Nancy’s curly brow,
- catching at her polished black-tipped horn, and listening to his hopes and
- fears for the next half year. Not so Frederick, as he stood at the door
- with Jessie Carey, who, having no love for the cow-house, especially when
- in her best silk, thought always ready to take care of the children there,
- was very glad to secure a companion outside, especially one so handsome,
- so much more polished than any of her cousins, and so well able to reply
- to her small talk. Little did she guess how far off he wished her, or how
- he longed to be listening to his uncles, talking to Beatrice, sticking
- holly into the cows’ halters with John and Richard, scrambling into the
- hay-loft with Carey and William—anywhere, rather than be liable to
- the imputation of being too fine a gentleman to enter a cow-house.
- </p>
- <p>
- This accusation never entered the head of any one but himself; but still
- an attack was in store for him. After a few words to Martin the cowman,
- and paying their respects to the pigs, the party left the farm-yard, and
- the inhabitants of Sutton Leigh took the path to their own abode, while
- Beatrice turned round to her cousin, saying, “Well, Fred, I congratulate
- you on your politeness! How well you endured being victimised!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I victimised! How do you know I was not enchanted?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, you can’t deceive me while you have a transparent face. Trust me for
- finding out whether you are bored or not. Besides, I would not pay so bad
- a compliment to your taste as to think otherwise.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How do you know I was not exercising the taste of Rubens himself? I was
- actually admiring you all, and thinking how like it all was to that great
- print from one of his pictures; the building with its dark gloomy roof,
- and open sides, the twilight, the solitary dispersed snow-flakes, the haze
- of dust, the sleek cattle, and their long white horns.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite poetical,” said Queen Bee, in a short, dry, satirical manner. “How
- charmed Jessie must have been!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why?” said Fred, rather provoked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Such masterly eyes are not common among our gentlemen. You will be quite
- her phoenix; and how much ‘Thomson’s Seasons’ you will have to hear! I
- dare say you have had it already—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- ‘Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind!’”
- </pre>
- <p>
- “Well, very good advice, too,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hate and detest Thomson,” said Beatrice; “above all, for travestying
- Ruth into ‘the lovely young Lavinia;’ so whenever Jessie treated me to any
- of her quotations, I criticised him without mercy, and at last I said, by
- great good luck, that the only use of him was to serve as an imposition
- for young ladies at second-rate boarding schools. It was a capital hit,
- for Alex found out that it was the way she learnt so much of him, and
- since that time I have heard no more of ‘Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson!
- O!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- The laughter which followed this speech had a tone in it, which, reaching
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who was walking a little in front with his mother,
- made him suspect that the young people were getting into such spirits as
- were not quite Sunday-like; and, turning round, he asked them some
- trifling question, which made him a party to the conversation, and brought
- it back to a quieter, though not less merry tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dinner was at five, and Henrietta was dressed so late that Queen Bee had
- to come up to summon her, and bring her down after every one was in the
- dining-room—an entrée all the more formidable, because Mr. Franklin
- was dining there, as well as Uncle Roger and Alexander.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thanks in some degree to her own dawdling, she had been in a hurry the
- whole day, and she longed for a quiet evening: but here it seemed to her,
- as with the best intentions it usually is, in a large party, that, but for
- the laying aside of needlework, of secular books and secular music, it
- might as well have been any other day of the week.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her mamma was very tired, and went to bed before tea, the gentlemen had a
- long talk over the fire, the boys and Beatrice laughed and talked, and she
- helped her grandmamma to hand about the tea, answering her questions about
- her mother’s health and habits, and heard a good deal that interested her,
- but still she could not feel as if it were Sunday. At Rocksand she used to
- sit for many a pleasant hour, either in the darkening summer twilight, or
- the bright red light of the winter fire, repeating or singing hymns, and
- enjoying the most delightful talks that the whole week had to offer, and
- now she greatly missed the conversation that would have “set this strange
- week to rights in her head,” as she said to herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- She thought over it a good deal whilst Bennet was brushing her hair at
- night, feeling as if it had been a week-day, and as if it would be as
- difficult to begin a new fresh week on Monday morning, as it would a new
- day after sitting up a whole night. How far this was occasioned by Knight
- Sutton habits, and how far it was her own fault, was not what she asked
- herself, though she sat up for a long time musing on the change in her way
- of life, and scarcely able to believe that it was only last Sunday that
- she had been sitting with her mother over their fire at Rocksand. Enough
- had happened for a whole month. Her darling project was fulfilled; the
- airy castle of former days had become a substance, and she was inhabiting
- it: and was she really so very much happier? There she went into a reverie—but
- musing is not meditating, nor vague dreamings wholesome reflections; she
- went on sitting their, chiefly for want of energy to move, till the fire
- burnt low, the clock struck twelve, and Mrs. Frederick Langford exclaimed
- in a sleepy voice, “My dear, are you going to sleep there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Breakfast was nearly over on Monday morning, when a whole party of the
- Sutton Leigh boys entered with the intelligence that the great pond in
- Knight’s Portion was quite frozen over, and that skating might begin
- without loss of time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are coming, are you not, Bee?” said Alex, leaning over the back of
- her chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes,” said she, nearly whispering “only take care. It is taboo there,”—and
- she made a sign with her hand towards Mrs. Langford, “and don’t frighten
- Aunt Mary about Fred. O it is too late, Carey’s doing the deed as fast as
- he can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Carey was asking Fred whether he had ever skated, or could skate, and Fred
- was giving an account of his exploits in that line at school, hoping it
- might prove to his mother that he might be trusted to take care of himself
- since he had dared the danger before. In vain: the alarmed expression had
- come over her face, as she asked Alexander whether his father had looked
- at the ice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Alex, “but it is perfectly safe. I tried it this morning, and
- it is as firm as this marble chimney-piece.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is pretty well to be trusted,” said his grandfather, “more especially
- as it would be difficult to get drowned there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would give a shilling to anyone who could drown himself there,” said
- Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The travelling man did,” exclaimed at once Carey, John, and Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t they come in just like the Greek chorus?” said Beatrice, in a
- whisper to Fred, who gave a little laugh, but was too anxious to attend to
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought he was drowned in the river,” said Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it was in the deep pool under the weeping willow, where the duckweed
- grows so rank in summer,” said Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey laughed. “I am sorry to interfere with your romantic
- embellishments, Carey, or with the credit of your beloved pond, since you
- are determined not to leave it behindhand with its neighbours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I always thought it was there,” said the boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And thought wrong; the poor man was found in the river two miles off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I always heard it was at Knight’s Pool,” repeated Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not know what you may have heard,” said Uncle Geoffrey; “but as it
- happened a good while before you were born, I think you had better not
- argue the point.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grandpapa,” persisted Carey, “was it not in Knight’s Pool?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly not,” was the answer drily given.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” continued Carey, “I am sure you might drown yourself there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rather than own yourself mistaken,” said Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Carey, Carey, I hate contradiction,” said grandmamma, rising and rustling
- past where he stood with a most absurd, dogged, unconvinced face. “Take
- your arm off the mantelpiece, let that china cup alone, and stand like a
- gentleman. Do!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All in vain!” said Beatrice. “To the end of his life he will maintain
- that Knight’s Pool drowned the travelling man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, never mind,” said John, impatiently, “are we coming to skate this
- morning or are we not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really wish,” said Aunt Mary, as if she could not help it, “without
- distrusting either old Knight’s Pool or your judgment, Alexander, that you
- would ask some one to look at it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should like just to run down and see the fun,” said Uncle Geoffrey,
- thus setting all parties at rest for the moment. The two girls ran
- joyfully up to put on their bonnets, as Henrietta wished to see, Beatrice
- to join in, the sport. At that instant Mrs. Langford asked her son
- Geoffrey to remove some obstacle which hindered the comfortable shutting
- of the door, and though a servant might just as well have done it, he
- readily complied, according to his constant habit of making all else give
- way to her, replying to the discomfited looks of the boys, “I shall be
- ready by the time the young ladies come down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So he was, long before Henrietta was ready, and just as she and Beatrice
- appeared on the stairs, Atkins was carrying across the hall what the boys
- looked at with glances of dismay, namely, the post-bag. Knight Sutton,
- being small and remote, did not possess a post-office, but a messenger
- came from Allonfield for the letters on every day except Sunday, and
- returned again in the space of an hour. A very inconvenient arrangement,
- as everyone had said for the last twenty years, and might probably say for
- twenty years more.
- </p>
- <p>
- As usual, more than half the contents were for G. Langford, Esq., and
- Fred’s face grew longer and longer as he saw the closely-written
- business-like sheets.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fred, my poor fellow,” said his uncle, looking up, “I am sorry for you,
- but one or two must be answered by this day’s post. I will not be longer
- than I can help.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then do let us come on,” exclaimed the chorus.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, Queenie,” added Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- She delayed, however, saying, “Can I do any good, papa?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, let me see. I do not like to stop you, but it would save time
- if you could just copy a letter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O thank you, pray let me,” said Beatrice, delighted. “Go on, Henrietta, I
- shall soon come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta would have waited, but she saw a chance of speaking to her
- brother, which she did not like to lose.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her mother had taken advantage of the various conversations going on in
- the hall, to draw her son aside, saying, “Freddy, I believe you think me
- very troublesome, but do let me entreat of you not to venture on the ice
- till one of your uncles has said it is safe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Roger trusts Alex,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but he lets all those boys take their chance, and a number of you
- together are likely to be careless, and I know there used to be dangerous
- places in that pond. I will not detain you, my dear,” added she, as the
- others were preparing to start, “only I beg you will not attempt to skate
- till your uncle comes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” said Frederick, in a tone of as much annoyance as ever he
- showed his mother, and with little suspicion how much it cost her not to
- set her mind at rest by exacting a promise from him. This she had
- resolutely forborne to do in cases like the present, from his earliest
- days, and she had her reward in the implicit reliance she could place on
- his word when once given. And now, sighing that it had not been
- voluntarily offered, she went to her sofa, to struggle and reason in vain
- with her fears, and start at each approaching step, lest it should bring
- the tidings of some fatal accident, all the time blaming herself for the
- entreaties which might, as she dreaded, place him in peril of
- disobedience.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few moments Mr. Geoffrey Langford was sitting in the great red
- leathern chair in the study, writing as fast as his fingers would move,
- apparently without a moment for thought, though he might have said, like
- the great painter, that what seemed the work of half an hour, was in fact
- the labour of years. His daughter, her bonnet by her side, sat opposite to
- him, writing with almost equal rapidity, and supremely happy, for to the
- credit of our little Queen Bee let it be spoken, that no talk with
- Henrietta, no walk with grandpapa, no new exciting tale, no, not even a
- flirtation with Fred and Alex, one or both, was equal in her estimation to
- the pleasure and honour of helping papa, even though it was copying a dry
- legal opinion, instead of gliding about on the smooth hard ice, in the
- bright winter morning’s sunshine.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two pens maintained a duet of diligent scratching for some twenty or
- five and twenty minutes without intermission, but at last Beatrice looked
- up, and without speaking, held up her sheet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Already? Thank you, my little clerk, I could think it was mamma. Now
- then, off to the skating. My compliments to Fred, and tell him I feel for
- him, and will not keep him waiting longer than I can avoid:” and muttering
- a resumption of his last sentence, on went the lawyer’s indefatigable pen;
- and away flew the merry little Busy Bee, bounding off with her droll,
- tripping, elastic, short-stepped run, which suited so well with her little
- alert figure, and her dress, a small plain black velvet bonnet, a tight
- black velvet “jacket,” as she called it, and a brown silk dress, with
- narrow yellow stripes (chosen chiefly in joke, because it was the colour
- of a bee), not a bit of superfluous shawl, boa, or ribbon about her, but
- all close and compact, fit for the diversion which she was eager to enjoy.
- The only girl among so many boys, she had learnt to share in many of their
- sports, and one of the prime favourites was skating, a diversion which
- owes as much of its charm to the caprices of its patron Jack Frost, as to
- the degree of skill which it requires.
- </p>
- <p>
- She arrived at the stile leading to “Knight’s Portion,” as it was called,
- and a very barren portion must the poor Knight have possessed if it was
- all his property. It was a sloping chalky field or rather corner of a
- down, covered with very short grass and thistles, which defied all the
- attacks of Uncle Roger and his sheep. On one side was a sort of precipice,
- where the chalk had been dug away, and a rather extensive old chalk pit
- formed a tolerable pond, by the assistance of the ditch at the foot of a
- hedge. On the glassy surface already marked by many a sharply traced
- circular line, the Sutton Leigh boys were careering, the younger ones with
- those extraordinary bends, twists, and contortions to which the unskilful
- are driven in order to preserve their balance. Frederick and Henrietta
- stood on the brink, neither of them looking particularly cheerful; but
- both turned gladly at the sight of the Busy Bee, and came to meet her with
- eager inquiries for her papa.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was a very welcome sight to both, especially Henrietta, who had from
- the first felt almost out of place alone with all those boys, and who
- hoped that she would be some comfort to poor Fred, who had been
- entertaining her with every variety of grumbling for the last half-hour,
- and perversely refusing to walk out of sight of the forbidden pleasure, or
- to talk of anything else. Such a conversation as she was wishing for was
- impossible whilst he was constantly calling out to the others, and
- exclaiming at their adventures, and in the intervals lamenting his own
- hard fate, scolding her for her slowness in dressing, which had occasioned
- the delay, and magnifying the loss of his pleasure, perhaps in a sort of
- secret hope that the temptation would so far increase as to form in his
- eyes an excuse for yielding to it. Seldom had he shown himself so
- unamiable towards her, and with great relief and satisfaction she beheld
- her cousin descending the steep slippery path from the height above, and
- while the cloud began to lighten on his brow, she thought to herself, “It
- will be all right now, he is always happy with Busy Bee!”
- </p>
- <p>
- So he might have been had Beatrice been sufficiently unselfish for once to
- use her influence in the right direction, and surrender an amusement for
- the sake of another; but to give up or defer such a pleasure as skating
- with Alex never entered her mind, though a moment’s reflection might have
- shown her how much more annoying the privation would be rendered by the
- sight of a girl fearlessly enjoying the sport from which he was debarred.
- It would, perhaps, be judging too hardly to reckon against her as a fault
- that her grandmamma could not bear to hear of anything so “boyish,” and
- had long ago entreated her to be more like a young lady. There was no
- positive order in this case, and her papa and mamma did not object. So she
- eagerly answered Alexander’s summons, fastened on her skates, and soon was
- gliding merrily on the surface of the Knight’s Pool, while her cousins
- watched her dexterity with surprise and interest; but soon Fred once more
- grew gloomy, sighed, groaned, looked at his watch, and recommenced his
- complaints. At first she had occupation enough in attending to her own
- security to bestow any attention on other things, but in less than a
- quarter of an hour, she began to feel at her ease, and her spirits rising
- to the pitch where consideration is lost, she “could not help,” in her own
- phrase, laughing at the disconsolate Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How woebegone he looks!” said she, as she whisked past, “but never mind,
- Fred, the post must go some time or other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be gone,” said Fred. “I am sure we have been here above an hour!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta looks blue with cold, like an old hen obliged to follow her
- ducklings to the water!” observed Beatrice, again gliding near, and in the
- midst of her next circular sweep she chanted—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Although their feet are pointed, and my feet are round, Pray, is that any
- reason why I should be drowned?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a great aggravation of Fred’s calamities to be obliged to laugh,
- nor were matters mended by the sight of the party now advancing from the
- house, Jessie Carey, with three of the lesser boys.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What news of Uncle Geoffrey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not see him,” said Jessie: “I think he was in the study, Uncle
- Roger went to him there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No hope then!” muttered the unfortunate Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can’t you skate, Fred?” asked little Arthur with a certain most provoking
- face of wonder and curiosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Presently,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He must not,” cried Richard, in a tone which Fred thought malicious,
- though it was only rude.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must not?” and Arthur looked up in amazement to the boy so much taller
- than his three brothers, creatures in his eyes privileged to do what they
- pleased.
- </p>
- <p>
- “His mamma won’t let him,” was Dick’s polite answer. Fred could have
- knocked him down with the greatest satisfaction, but in the first place he
- was out of reach, in the second, the young ladies were present, in the
- third he was a little boy, and a stupid one, and Fred had temper enough
- left to see that there would be nothing gained by quarrelling with him, so
- contenting himself with a secret but most ardent wish that he had him as
- his fag at school, he turned to Jessie, and asked her what she thought of
- the weather, if the white frost would bring rain, &c., &c.
- </p>
- <p>
- Jessie thought the morning too bright not to be doubtful, and the hoar
- frost was so very thick and white that it was not likely to continue much
- longer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How beautiful these delicate white crests are to every thorn in the
- hedge!” said Henrietta; “and look, these pieces of chalk are almost cased
- in glass.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O I do love such a sight!” said Jessie. “Here is a beautiful bit of stick
- crusted over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a perfect little Giant’s Causeway,” said Henrietta; “do look at
- these lovely little columns, Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” said Jessie, “Myriads of little salts, or hook’d or shaped like
- double wedges.—”
- </p>
- <p>
- She thought Beatrice safe out of hearing, but that very moment by she
- came, borne swiftly along, and catching the cadence of that one line,
- looked archly at Fred, and shaped with her lips rather than uttered—“O
- Jemmy Thomson! Jemmy Thomson, O!”
- </p>
- <p>
- It filled up the measure. That Beatrice, Alexander and Chorus should be
- making him a laughing-stock, and him pinned to Miss Carey’s side, was more
- than he could endure. He had made up his mind that Uncle Geoffrey was not
- coming at all, his last feeble hold of patience and obedience gave way,
- and he exclaimed, “Well, I shan’t wait any longer, it is not of the least
- use.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Fred, consider!” said his sister.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s right, Freddy,” shouted Carey, “he’ll not come now, I’ll answer
- for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know he promised he would,” pleaded Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Roger has got hold of him, and he is as bad as the old man of the
- sea,” said Fred, “the post has been gone this half-hour, and I shall not
- wait any longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Think of mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How can you talk such nonsense, Henrietta?” exclaimed Fred impatiently,
- “do you think that I am so awfully heavy that the ice that bears them must
- needs break with me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not suppose there is any danger,” said Henrietta, “but for the sake
- of poor mamma’s entreaties!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you think I am going to be kept in leading-strings all the rest of my
- life?” said Fred, obliged to work himself into a passion in order to
- silence his sister and his conscience. “I have submitted to such absurd
- nonsense a great deal too long already, I will not be made a fool of in
- the sight of everybody; so here goes!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And breaking away from her detaining arm, he ran down to the verge of the
- pond, and claimed the skates which he had lent to John. Henrietta turned
- away her eyes full of tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind, Henrietta,” shouted the good-natured Alexander, “I’ll engage
- to fish him out if he goes in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is as likely I may fish you out, Mr. Alex,” returned Fred, slightly
- affronted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Or more likely still there will be no fishing in the case,” said the
- naughty little Syren, who felt all the time a secret satisfaction in the
- consciousness that it was she who had made the temptation irresistible,
- then adding, to pacify Henrietta and her own feelings of compunction,
- “Aunt Mary must be satisfied when she hears with what exemplary patience
- he waited till papa was past hope, and the pond past fear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Whether Alex smiled at the words “past fear,” or whether Fred only thought
- he did, is uncertain, the effect was that he exclaimed, “I only wish there
- was a place in this pond that you did not like to skate over, Alex.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, there is one,” said Alex, laughing, “where Carey drowns the
- travelling man: there is a spring there, and the ice is never so firm, so
- you may try—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t, Fred—I beg you won’t!” cried Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Fred, Fred, think, think, if anything should happen!” implored
- Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shan’t look, I can’t bear it!” exclaimed Jessie, turning away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred without listening skated triumphantly towards the hedge, and across
- the perilous part, and fortunately it was without disaster. In the middle
- of the shout of applause with which the chorus celebrated his achievement,
- a gate in the hedge suddenly opened, and the two uncles stood before them.
- The first thing Uncle Geoffrey did was to take a short run, and slide
- right across the middle of the pond, while Uncle Roger stood by laughing
- and saying, “Well done, Geoffrey, you are not quite so heavy as I am.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey reaching the opposite side, caught up little Charley by the
- arms and whirled him round in the air, then shouted in a voice that had
- all the glee and blithe exultation of a boy just released from school, “I
- hereby certify to all whom it may concern, the pond is franked! Where’s
- Fred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred wished himself anywhere else, and so did Henrietta. Even Queen Bee’s
- complacency gave way before her father, and it was only Alexander who had
- spirit to answer, “We thought you were not coming at all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed!” said Uncle Geoffrey; and little Willy exclaimed, “Why, Alex,
- Uncle Geoffrey always comes when he promises,” a truth to which every one
- gave a mental assent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Without taking the smallest notice of Frederick by word or look, Uncle
- Geoffrey proceeded to join the other boys, to the great increase of their
- merriment, instructing them in making figures of eight, and in all the
- other mysteries of the skating art, which they could scarcely enjoy more
- than he seemed to do. Henrietta, cold and unhappy, grieved at her
- brother’s conduct, and still more grieved at the displeasure of her uncle,
- wished to return to the house, yet could not make up her mind to do so,
- for fear of her mamma’s asking about Fred; and whilst she was still
- doubting and hesitating, the Church bell began to ring, reminding her of
- the saint’s day service, one of the delights of Knight Sutton to which she
- had so long looked forward. Yet here was another disappointment. The
- uncles and the two girls immediately prepared to go. Jessie said she must
- take Arthur and Charley home, and set off. The boys could do as they
- pleased, and Willy holding Uncle Geoffrey’s hand was going with him, but
- the rest continued their sport, and among them was Fred. He had never
- disobeyed a Church bell before, and had rather not have done so now, but
- as he saw none of his male companions setting off, he fancied that to
- attend a week-day service in the holidays might be reckoned a girlish
- proceeding, imagined his cousins laughing at him as soon as his back was
- turned, and guessed from Uncle Geoffrey’s grave looks that he might be
- taken to task when no longer protected by the presence of the rest.
- </p>
- <p>
- He therefore replied with a gruff short “No” to his sister’s anxious
- question whether he was not coming, and flourished away to the other end
- of the pond; but a few seconds after he was not a little surprised and
- vexed at finding himself mistaken after all—at least so far as
- regarded Alex, who had been only going on with his sport to the last
- moment, and now taking off his skates, vaulted over the gate, and ran at
- full speed after the rest of the party, overtaking them before they
- reached the village.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was sadly disappointed when, looking round at the sound of
- footsteps, she saw him instead of her brother. His refusal to go to Church
- grieved her more than his disobedience, on which she did not in general
- look with sufficient seriousness, and for which in the present case there
- were many extenuating circumstances, which she longed to plead to Uncle
- Geoffrey, who would, she thought, relax in his severity towards her poor
- Fred, if he knew how long he had waited, and how much he had been teased.
- This, however, she could not tell him without complaining of his daughter,
- and in fact it was an additional pain that Queen Bee should have used all
- her powerful influence in the wrong direction.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was impossible to be long vexed with the little Busy Bee, even in such
- circumstances as these, especially when she came up to her, put her arm
- into hers, and looked into her face with all the sweetness that could
- sometimes reside in those brown features of hers, saying, “My poor
- Henrietta, I am afraid we have been putting you to torture all this time,
- but you know that it is quite nonsense to be afraid of anything
- happening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, I know that, but really, Queenie, you should not have persuaded
- him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I? Well, I believe it was rather naughty of me to laugh at him, for
- persuade him I did not, but if you had but seen him in the point I did,
- and known how absurd you two poor disconsolate creatures looked, you would
- not have been able to help it. And how was I to know that he would go into
- the only dangerous place he could find, just by way of bravado? I could
- have beaten myself when I saw that, but it is all safe, and no harm done.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is your papa displeased with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I will settle that; I will tell him it was half of it my fault, and
- beg him to say nothing about it. And as for Fred—I should like to
- make a charade of fool-hardy, with a personal application. Did you ever
- act a charade, Henrietta?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never; I scarcely know what it is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O charming, charming! What rare fun we will have! I wish I had not told
- you of fool-hardy, for now we can’t have that, but this evening, O, this
- evening, I am no Queen Bee if you do not see what will amaze you! Alex!
- Alex! Where is the boy? I must speak to you this instant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Pouncing upon Alexander, she drew him a little behind the others, and was
- presently engaged in an eager low-voiced conference, apparently persuading
- him to something much against his inclination, but Henrietta was not
- sufficiently happy to bestow much curiosity on the subject. All her
- thoughts were with Fred, and she had not long been in Church before all
- her mother’s fears seemed to have passed to her. Her mother had recovered
- her serenity, and was able to trust her boy in the hands of his Heavenly
- Father, while Henrietta, haunted by the remembrance of many a moral tale,
- was tormenting herself with the expectation of retribution, and dwelling
- on a fancied figure of her brother lifted senseless out of the water, with
- closed eyes and dripping hair.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX.
- </h2>
- <p>
- With all her faults, Queen Bee was a good-natured, generous little thing,
- and it was not what every one would have done, when, as soon as she
- returned from Church, she followed her father to the study, saying, “Papa,
- you must not be displeased with Fred, for he was very much plagued, and he
- only had just begun when you came.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The other boys had been teasing him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dick had been laughing at him, saying his mamma would not let him go on
- the ice, and that, you know, was past all bearing. And honestly, it was my
- fault too; I laughed, not at that joke, of course, for it was only worthy
- of Dick himself, but at poor Fred’s own disconsolate looks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was not his case unpleasant enough, without your making it worse?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course, papa, I ought to have been more considerate, but you know how
- easily I am run away with by high spirits.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I know you have the power to restrain them, Beatrice. You have no
- right to talk of being run away with, as if you were helpless.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know it is very wrong; I often think I will check myself, but there are
- many speeches which, when once they come to my lips, are irresistible, or
- seem so. However, I will not try to justify myself; I know I was to blame,
- only you must not be angry with Fred, for it really did seem rather
- unreasonable to keep him there parading about with Henrietta and Jessie,
- when the ice was quite safe for everybody else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not angry with him, Bee; I cannot but be sorry that he gave way to
- the temptation, but there was so much to excuse him, that I shall not show
- any further displeasure. He is often in a very vexatious position for a
- boy of his age. I can imagine nothing more galling than these restraints.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And cannot you—” said Beatrice, stopping short.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak to your aunt? I will not make her miserable. Anything she thinks
- right she will do, at whatever cost to herself, and for that very reason I
- will not interfere. It is a great deal better for Fred that his amusement
- should be sacrificed to her peace, than her peace to his amusement.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yet surely this cannot go on for life,” said Beatrice, as if she was half
- afraid to hazard the remark.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind the future. She will grow more used to the other boys, and
- gain more confidence in Fred. Things will right themselves, if we do not
- set them wrong. And now, mark me. You are not a mere child, who can plead
- the excuse of thoughtlessness for leading him into mischief; you know the
- greatness of the sin of disobedience, and the fearful responsibility
- incurred by conducing to it in others. Do not help to lead him astray for
- the sake of—of vanity—of amusement.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Something in the manner in which he pronounced these words conveyed to
- Beatrice a sense of the emptiness and worthlessness of her motives, and
- she answered earnestly, “I was wrong, papa; I know it is a love of saying
- clever things that often leads me wrong. It was so to-day, for I could
- have stopped myself, but for the pleasure of making fun. It is vanity, and
- I will try to subdue it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice had a sort of candid way of reasoning about her faults, and would
- blame herself, and examine her motives in a manner which disarmed reproof
- by forestalling it. She was perfectly sincere, yet it was self-deception,
- for it was not as if it was herself whom she was analysing, but rather as
- if it was some character in a book; indeed, she would have described
- herself almost exactly as she is here described, except that her
- delineation would have been much more clever and more exact. She would not
- have spared herself—for this reason, that her own character was more
- a study to her than a reality, her faults rather circumstances than sins;
- it was her mind, rather than her soul, that reflected and made
- resolutions, or more correctly, what would have been resolutions, if they
- had possessed any real earnestness, and not been done, as it were,
- mechanically, because they became the occasion.
- </p>
- <p>
- The conversation was concluded by the sound of the luncheon bell, and she
- ran up to take off her bonnet, her thoughts taking the following course:
- “I am very sorry; it is too bad to tease poor Fred, cruel and wrong, and
- all that, only if he would not look absurd! It is too droll to see how
- provoked he is, when I take the least notice of Alex, and after all, I
- don’t think he cares for me half as much as Alex does, only it flatters
- his vanity. Those great boys are really quite as vain as girls, not Alex
- though, good downright fellow, who would do anything for me, and I have
- put him to a hard proof to-night. What a capital thought those charades
- are! Fred will meet the others on common, nay, on superior ground, and
- there will be none of these foolish questions who can be most manly mad.
- Fred is really a fine spirited fellow though, and I thought papa could not
- find it in his heart to be angry with him. How capitally he will act, and
- how lovely Henrietta will look! I must make them take to the charades, it
- will be so very delightful, and keep Fred quite out of mischief, which
- will set Aunt Mary at ease. And how amused grandpapa will be! What shall
- it be to-night? What Alex can manage to act tolerably. Ce n’est que le
- premier pas qui conte, and the premier pas must be with our best foot
- foremost. I give myself credit for the thought; it will make all smooth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- These meditations occupied her during a hasty toilette and a still more
- rapid descent, and were abruptly concluded by her alighting from her
- swinging jump down the last four steps close to Fred himself, who was
- standing by the hall fire with a gloomy expression of countenance, which
- with inconsiderate good nature she hastened to remove. “Don’t look dismal,
- Freddy; I have told papa all about it, and he does not mind it. Cheer up,
- you adventurous knight, I have some glorious fun for you this evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Not mind it! The impression thus conveyed to one but too willing to
- receive it, was that Uncle Geoffrey, that external conscience, thought him
- excused from attending to unreasonable prohibitions. Away went all the
- wholesome self-reproach which he had begun to feel, away went all fear of
- Uncle Geoffrey’s eye, all compunction in meeting his mother, and he
- entered the dining-room in such lively spirits that his uncle was vexed to
- see him so unconcerned, and his mother felt sure that her entreaty had not
- been disregarded. She never heard to the contrary, for she liked better to
- trust than to ask questions, and he, like far too many boys, did not think
- concealment blameable where there was no actual falsehood.
- </p>
- <p>
- All the time they were at table, Queen Bee was in one of her states of
- wild restlessness, and the instant she was at liberty she flew away, and
- was seen no more that afternoon, except in certain flittings into
- different apartments, where she appeared for a moment or two with some
- extraordinary and mysterious request. First she popped upon grandpapa, and
- with the expense of a little coaxing and teasing, obtained from him the
- loan of his Deputy-Lieutenant’s uniform; then she darted into the
- drawing-room, on hearing Uncle Roger’s voice, and conjured him not to
- forget to give a little note to Alex, containing these words, “Willy must
- wear his cap without a peak. Bring Roger’s dirk, and above all, beg,
- borrow, or steal, Uncle Roger’s fishing boots.” Her next descent was upon
- Aunt Mary, in her own room: “Aunt, would you do me a great favour, and ask
- no questions, nor tell Henrietta? Do just lend me the three little
- marabout feathers which you had in your cap yesterday evening. Only for
- this one evening, and I’ll take great care.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure, my dear, you are very welcome to them; I do not feel like
- myself in such finery,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, smiling, as Beatrice
- took possession of the elegant little white cap, which she had the
- discretion to carry to Bennet, its lawful protector, to be bereft of its
- plumed honours. Bennet, an old friend of nursery days, was in the secret
- of her plans for the evening; her head-quarters were in the work-room,
- which had often served her as a playroom in days gone by, and Judith,
- gratified by a visit from “Miss Bee,” dived for her sake into boxes and
- drawers, amid hoards where none but Judith would have dared to rummage.
- </p>
- <p>
- All this might ultimately be for Henrietta’s entertainment, but at present
- it did not much conduce towards it, as she was left to her own resources
- in the drawing-room. She practised a little, worked a little, listened to
- a consultation between grandpapa and Uncle Roger, about the new pig-sty,
- wrote it down in her list when they went into the study to ask Uncle
- Geoffrey’s advice, tried to talk over things in general with her mamma,
- but found it impossible with grandmamma continually coming in and out of
- the room, yawned, wondered what Busy Bee was about, felt deserted, gave up
- work, and had just found an entertaining book, when grandmamma came in,
- and invited her to visit the poultry yard. She readily accepted, but for
- want of Queen Bee to hurry her, kept her grandmamma waiting longer than
- she liked, and had more of a scolding than was agreeable. The chickens
- were all gone to roost by the time they arrived, the cock just peering
- down at them with his coral-bordered eye, and the ducks waddling
- stealthily in one by one, the feeding was over, the hen-wife gone, and
- Mrs. Langford vexed at being too late.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was annoyed with herself and with the result of the day, but she
- had some consolation, for as they were going towards the house, they met
- Mr. Langford, who called out, “So you have been walking with grandmamma!
- Well, if you are not tired, come and have a little turn with grandpapa. I
- am going to speak to Daniels, the carpenter, and my ‘merry Christmas’ will
- be twice as welcome to his old father, if I take you with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta might be a little tired, but such an invitation was not to be
- refused, and she was at her grandpapa’s side in an instant, thanking him
- so much that he laughed and said the favour was to him. “I wish we had
- Fred here too,” said he, as they walked on, “the old man will be very glad
- to see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was he one of mamma’s many admirers in the village?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All the village admired Miss Mary, but it was your father who was old
- Daniels’ chief friend. The boys used to have a great taste for carpentry,
- especially your father, who was always at his elbow when he was at work at
- the Hall. Poor old man, I thought he would never have held up his head
- again when our great trouble came on us. He used to touch his hat, and
- turn away without looking me in the face. And there you may see stuck up
- over the chimney-piece in his cottage the new chisel that your father gave
- him when he had broken his old one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear old man!” said Henrietta, warmly, “I am so very glad that we have
- come here, where people really care for us, and are interested in us, and
- not for our own sake. How delightful it is! I feel as if we were come out
- of banishment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it is all the better for you,” said Mr. Langford; “if we had had
- you here, depend upon it, we should have spoilt you. We have so few
- granddaughters that we cannot help making too much of them. There is that
- little Busy Bee—by the by, what is her plan this evening, or are not
- you in her secret?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, I believe she is to surprise us all. I met her just before I came
- out dragging a huge bag after her: I wanted to help her, but she would not
- let me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She turns us all round her finger,” said grandpapa. “I never found the
- person who could resist Queen Bee, except grandmamma. But I am glad you do
- not take after her, Henrietta, for one such grandchild is enough, and it
- is better for woman-kind to have leadable spirits than leading.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, grandpapa!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a dissentient O. What does it mean? Out with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only that I was thinking about weakness; I beg your pardon, grandpapa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here!” and Mr. Langford bent the slender cane in his hand (he
- disdained a stronger walking-stick) to its full extent of suppleness. “Is
- this weak?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it is strong in energy,” said Henrietta, laughing, as the elastic
- cane sprang back to its former shape.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yet to a certain point you can bend it as far as you please. Well, that
- should be the way with you: be turned any way but the wrong, and let your
- own determination be only to keep upright.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But women are admired for influence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Influence is a good thing in its way, but only of a good sort when it is
- unconscious. At any rate, when you set to work to influence people, take
- care it is only with a view to their good, and not to your own personal
- wishes, or influencing becomes a dangerous trade, especially for young
- ladies towards their elders.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandpapa, who had only seen Henrietta carried about by Beatrice,
- grandmamma, or Fred, and willing to oblige them all, had little idea how
- applicable to her case was his general maxim, nor indeed did she at the
- moment take it to herself, although it was one day to return upon her. It
- brought them to the neat cottage of the carpenter, with the thatched
- workshop behind, and the garden in front, which would have looked neat but
- for the melancholy aspect of the frost-bitten cabbages.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was Henrietta’s first cottage visit, and she was all eagerness and
- interest, picturing to herself a venerable old man, almost as fine-looking
- as her grandfather, and as eloquent as old men in cottages always are in
- books; but she found it rather a disappointing meeting. It was a very nice
- trim-looking daughter-in-law who opened the door, on Mr. Langford’s knock,
- and the room was neatness itself, but the old carpenter was not at all
- what she had imagined. He was a little stooping old man, with a shaking
- head, and weak red eyes under a green shade, and did not seem to have
- anything to say beyond “Yes, sir,” and “Thank you, sir,” when Mr. Langford
- shouted into his deaf ears some of the “compliments of the season.”
- Looking at the young lady, whom he evidently mistook for Beatrice, he
- hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey were quite well. His face lighted up a
- little for a moment when Mr. Langford told him this was Mr. Frederick’s
- daughter, but it was only for an instant, and in a somewhat querulous
- voice he asked if there was not a young gentleman too.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes,” said Mr. Langford, “he shall come and see you some day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He would not care to see a poor old man,” said Daniels, turning a little
- away, while his daughter-in-law began to apologise for him by saying, “He
- is more lost than usual to-day, sir; I think it was getting tired going to
- church, yesterday morning; he did not sleep well, and he has been so
- fretful all the morning, a body did not know what to do with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Langford said a few more cheerful words to the poor old man, then
- asked the daughter where her husband was, and, hearing that he was in the
- workshop, refused offers of fetching him in, and went out to speak to him,
- leaving Henrietta to sit by the fire and wait for him. A weary waiting
- time she found it; shy as she was of poor people, as of a class with whom
- she was utterly unacquainted, feeling bound to make herself agreeable, but
- completely ignorant how to set about it, wishing to talk to the old man,
- and fearing to neglect him, but finding conversation quite impossible
- except with Mrs. Daniels, and not very easy with her—she tried to
- recollect what storied young ladies did say to old men, but nothing she
- could think of would do, or was what she could find herself capable of
- saying. At last she remembered, in “Gertrude,” the old nurse’s complaint
- that Laura did not inquire after the rheumatism, and she hazarded her
- voice in expressing a hope that Mr. Daniels did not suffer from it. Clear
- as the sweet voice was, it was too tremulous (for she was really in a
- fright of embarrassment) to reach the old man’s ear, and his
- daughter-in-law took it upon her to repeat the inquiry in a shrill sharp
- scream, that almost went through her ears; then while the old man was
- answering something in a muttering maundering way, she proceeded with a
- reply, and told a long story about his ways with the doctor, in her Sussex
- dialect, almost incomprehensible to Henrietta. The conversation dropped,
- until Mrs. Daniels began hoping that every one at the Hall was quite well,
- and as she inquired after them one by one, this took up a reasonable time;
- but then again followed a silence. Mrs. Daniels was not a native of Knight
- Sutton, or she would have had more to say about Henrietta’s mother; but
- she had never seen her before, and had none of that interest in her that
- half the parish felt. Henrietta wished there had been a baby to notice,
- but she saw no trace in the room of the existence of children, and did not
- like to ask if there were any. She looked at the open hearth, and said it
- was very comfortable, and was told in return that it made a great draught,
- and smoked very much. Then she bethought herself of admiring an
- elaborately worked frame sampler, that hung against the wall; and the
- conversation this supplied lasted her till, to her great joy, grandpapa
- made his appearance again, and summoned her to return, as it was already
- growing very dark.
- </p>
- <p>
- She thought he might have made something of an apology for the
- disagreeableness of his friend; but, being used to it, and forgetting that
- she was not, he did no such thing; and she was wondering that cottage
- visiting could ever have been represented as so pleasant an occupation,
- when he began on a far more interesting subject, asking about her mother’s
- health, and how she thought Knight Sutton agreed with her, saying how very
- glad he was to have her there again, and how like his own daughter she had
- always been. He went on to tell of his first sight of his two
- daughters-in-law, when, little guessing that they would be such, he went
- to fetch home the little Mary Vivian, who had come from India under the
- care of General St. Leger. “There they were,” said he; “I can almost see
- them now, as their black nurse led them in; your aunt a brown little
- sturdy thing, ready to make acquaintance in a moment, and your mamma such
- a fair, shrinking, fragile morsel of a child, that I felt quite ashamed to
- take her among all my great scrambling boys.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! mamma says her recollection is all in bits and scraps; she recollects
- the ship, and she remembers sitting on your knee in a carriage; but she
- cannot remember either the parting with Aunt Geoffrey or the coming here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not remember about the parting with Aunt Geoffrey; they managed that
- in the nursery, I believe, but I shall never forget the boys receiving
- her,—Fred and Geoffrey, I mean,—for Roger was at school. How
- they admired her like some strange curiosity, and played with her like a
- little girl with a new doll. There was no fear that they would be too
- rough with her, for they used to touch her as if she was made of glass.
- And what a turn out of old playthings there was in her service!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was when she was six,” said Henrietta, “and papa must have been
- ten.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, thereabouts, and Geoffrey a year younger. How they did pet her! and
- come down to all their old baby-plays again for her sake, till I was
- almost afraid that cricket and hockey would be given up and forgotten.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And were they?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, trust boys for that. Little Mary came to be looker on, if she did
- not sometimes play herself. She was distressed damsel, and they knight and
- giant, or dragon, or I cannot tell what, though many’s the time I have
- laughed over it. Whatever they pleased was she: never lived creature more
- without will of her own.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never,” responded Henrietta; but that for which Mr. Langford might
- commend his little Mary at seven years old, did not appear so appropriate
- a subject of observation in Mrs. Frederick Langford, and by her own
- daughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh!” said her grandfather. Then answering his mental objection in another
- tone, “Ay, ay, no will for her own pleasure; that depends more on you than
- on any one else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would do anything on earth for her!” said Henrietta, feeling it from
- the bottom of her heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure you would, my dear,” said Mr. Langford, “and she deserves it.
- There are few like her, and few that have gone through so much. To think
- of her as she was when last she was here and to look at her now! Well, it
- won’t do to talk of it; but I thought when I saw her face yesterday, that
- I could see, as well as believe, it was all for the best for her, as I am
- sure it was for us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was interrupted just as they reached the gate by the voice of his
- eldest son calling “Out late, sir,” and looking round, Henrietta saw what
- looked in the darkness like a long procession, Uncle and Aunt Roger, and
- their niece, and all the boys, as far down as William, coming to the Hall
- for the regular Christmas dinner-party.
- </p>
- <p>
- Joining company, Henrietta walked with Jessie and answered her inquiries
- whether she had got wet or cold in the morning; but it was in an absent
- manner, for she was all the time dwelling on what her grandfather had been
- saying. She was calling up in imagination the bright scenes of her
- mother’s youth; those delightful games of which she had often heard, and
- which she could place in their appropriate setting now that she knew the
- scenes. She ran up to her room, where she found only Bennet, her mother
- having dressed and gone down; and sitting down before the fire, and
- resigning her curls to her maid, she let herself dwell on the ideas the
- conversation had called up, turning from the bright to the darker side.
- She pictured to herself the church, the open grave, her uncles and her
- grandfather round it, the villagers taking part in their grief, the old
- carpenter’s averted head—she thought what must have been the agony
- of the moment, of laying in his untimely grave one so fondly loved, on
- whom the world was just opening so brightly,—and the young wife—the
- infant children—how fearful it must have been! “It was almost a
- cruel dispensation,” thought Henrietta. “O, how happy and bright we might
- have been! What would it not have been to hold by his hand, to have his
- kiss, to look for his smile! And mamma, to have had her in all her
- joyousness and blitheness, with no ill health, and no cares! O, why was it
- not so? And yet grandpapa said it was for the best! And in what a manner
- he did say it, as if he really felt and saw, and knew the advantage of it!
- To dear papa himself I know it was for the best, but for us, mamma,
- grandpapa—no, I never shall understand it. They were good before;
- why did they need punishment? Is this what is called saying ‘Thy will be
- done?’ Then I shall never be able to say it, and yet I ought!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your head a little higher, if you please, Miss Henrietta,” said Bennet;
- “it is that makes me so long dressing you, and your mamma has been telling
- me that I must get you ready faster.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta slightly raised her head for the moment, but soon let it sink
- again in her musings, and when Bennet reminded her, replied, “I can’t,
- Bennet, it breaks my neck.” Her will was not with her mother’s, in a
- trifling matter of which the reasonableness could not but approve itself
- to her. How, then, was it likely to be bent to that of her Heavenly
- Parent, in what is above reason?
- </p>
- <p>
- The toilet was at length completed, and in time for her to be handed in to
- dinner by Alexander, an honour which she owed to Beatrice having already
- been secured by Frederick, who was resolved not to be again abandoned to
- Jessie. Alex did not favour her with much conversation, partly because he
- was thinking with perturbation of the task set him for the evening, and
- partly because he was trying to hear what Queen Bee was saying to Fred, in
- the midst of the clatter of knives and forks, and the loud voice of Mr.
- Roger Langford, which was enough to drown most other sounds. Some
- inquiries had been made about Mrs. Geoffrey Langford and her aunt, Lady
- Susan St. Leger, which had led Beatrice into a great lamentation for her
- mother’s absence, and from thence into a description of what Lady Susan
- exacted from her friends. “Aunt Susan is a regular fidget,” said she; “not
- such a fidget as some people,” with an indication of Mrs. Langford. “Some
- people are determined to make others comfortable in a way of their own,
- and that is a fidget to be regarded with considerable respect; but Aunt
- Susan’s fidgeting takes the turn of sacrificing the comfort of every one
- else to her own and her little dog’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But that is very hard on Aunt Geoffrey,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Frightfully. Any one who was less selfish would have insisted on mamma’s
- coming here, instead of which Aunt Susan only complains of her sister and
- brother, and everybody else, for going out of London, when she may be
- taken suddenly ill at any time. She is in such a nervous state that Mr.
- Peyton cannot tell what might be the consequence,” said Beatrice, in an
- imitative tone, which made Fred laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure I should leave her to take care of herself,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So do the whole family except ourselves; they are all worn out by her
- querulousness, and are not particularly given to patience or unselfishness
- either. But mamma is really fond of her, because she was kind to her when
- she came home from India, and she manages to keep her quiet better than
- anyone else can. She can very seldom resist mamma’s cheerful voice, which
- drives off half her nerves at once. You cannot think how funny it is to
- see how Aunt Amelia always seems to stroke the cat the wrong way, and
- mamma to smooth her down the right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A lull in the conversation left these last words audible, and Mr. Langford
- said, “What is that about stroking the cat, Queenie?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O you are telling it all—O don’t, Bee!” cried Willy.
- </p>
- <p>
- And with certain jokes about cats and bags, which seemed excessively to
- discomfit Willy, who protested the cat was not in the bag at all—it
- was the partridges—the conversation drifted away again from the
- younger party.
- </p>
- <p>
- As soon as dinner was over, Beatrice again disappeared, after begging her
- grandmamma to allow the great Indian screen to remain as it at present
- stood, spread out so as to cut off one end of the room, where there was a
- door opening into the study. Behind this screen frequent rustlings were
- heard, with now and then a burst of laughing or whispering, and a sound of
- moving furniture, which so excited Mrs. Langford, that, starting up, she
- exclaimed that she must go and see what they were doing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We are taking great care, grandmamma,” called Alexander. “We won’t hurt
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This, by showing so far that there was something to be hurt, was so far
- from reassuring her, that she would certainly have set out on a voyage of
- discovery, but for Mr. Langford, who professed himself convinced that all
- was right, and said he would not have the Busy Bee disturbed.
- </p>
- <p>
- She came in to tea, bringing Alex and Willy with her—the latter, in
- a marvellous state of mystery and excitement, longing to tell all himself,
- and yet in great terror lest the others should tell.
- </p>
- <p>
- As soon as the tea was despatched, the three actors departed, and
- presently there was a call from behind the screen, “Are you ready, good
- people?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go it,” answered Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are the elders ready?” said Beatrice’s voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa, don’t go on talking to Uncle Geoffrey!” cried Willy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, ay, all attention,” said grandpapa. “Now for it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The screen was folded back, and discovered Alex in a pasteboard crown,
- ermine tippet, and purple mantle, sitting enthroned with Beatrice (a tiara
- and feathers on her head) at his side, and kneeling before them a
- nondescript article, consisting chiefly of a fur cloak, a fur cap, adorned
- with a pair of grey squirrel cuffs, sewn ingeniously into the form of
- ears, a boa by way of tail, and an immense pair of boots. As Uncle
- Geoffrey said, the cat was certainly out of the bag, and it proceeded in
- due form to take two real partridges from the bag, and present them to the
- king and princess in the name of the Marquis Carabbas.
- </p>
- <p>
- The king and princess made some consultation as to who the marquis might
- be, the princess proposing to send for the Peerage, and the king
- cross-examining puss in an incredulous way which greatly puzzled him,
- until at last he bethought himself of exclaiming, in a fierce manner,
- “I’ve told you the truth, Mr. King, and if you won’t believe me, I can’t
- help it!” and walked off on his hind legs in as dignified and resentful a
- manner as his boots would let him; repairing to the drawing-room to have
- his accoutrements admired, while the screen was again spread in
- preparation for Scene II.
- </p>
- <p>
- Scene II. presented but a half-length, a shawl being hung in front, so as
- to conceal certain incongruities. A great arm-chair was wheeled close to
- the table, on which stood an aged black jack out of the hall, a quart
- measure, and a silver tankard; while in the chair, a cushion on his head,
- and a great carving-knife held like a sceptre in his hand, reclined Alex,
- his bulk enlarged by at least two pillows, over which an old,
- long-breasted white satin waistcoat, embroidered with silver, had with
- some difficulty been brought to meet. Before him stood a little figure in
- a cloth cap, set jauntily on one side, decorated with a fox’s brush, and
- with Mrs. Frederick Langford’s three feathers, and a coat bearing
- marvellous resemblance to Beatrice’s own black velvet spencer, crossed
- over one shoulder by a broad blue ribbon, which Henrietta knew full well.
- “Do thou stand for my father,” began this droll little shape, “and examine
- me in the particulars of my life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not badly carried out; Prince Henry, when he did not giggle, acted
- beautifully; and Falstaff really did very well, though his eyes were often
- directed downwards, and the curious, by standing on tiptoe, obtained not
- only a view of Prince Hal’s pink petticoat, but of a great Shakespeare
- laid open on the floor; and a very low bow on the part of the heir
- apparent, when about to change places with his fat friend, was strongly
- suspected of being for the purpose of turning over a leaf. It was with
- great spirit that the parting appeal was given, “Banish fat Jack, and
- banish all the world!” And there was great applause when fat Jack and
- Prince Hal jumped up and drew the screen forward again; though Uncle
- Geoffrey and Aunt Mary were cruel enough to utter certain historical and
- antiquarian doubts as to whether the Prince of Wales was likely to wear
- the three feathers and ribbon of the garter in his haunts at Eastcheap.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the concluding scene the deputy lieutenant’s uniform made a great
- figure, with the addition of the long-breasted waistcoat, a white scarf,
- and the white cockade, adorning Alex, who, with a boot-jack under his arm,
- looked as tall and as rigid as he possibly could, with a very low bow,
- which was gracefully returned by a royal personage in a Scottish bonnet,
- also bearing the white cockade, a tartan scarf, and the blue ribbon.
- Altogether, Prince Charles Edward and the Baron of Bradwardine stood
- confessed; the character was solemnly read, and the shoe pulled off, or
- supposed to be, as the lower screen still remained to cut off the view;
- and then the Baron indulged in a lengthy yawn and stretch, while Prince
- Charlie, skipping into the midst of the audience, danced round Mr.
- Langford, asking if he had guessed it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Beatrice had not judged amiss when she thought charade-acting an amusement
- likely to take the fancy of her cousins. The great success of her
- boot-jack inspired both Frederick and Henrietta with eagerness to imitate
- it; and nothing was talked of but what was practicable in the way of
- scenes, words, and decorations. The Sutton Leigh party were to dine at the
- Hall again on Thursday, and it was resolved that there should be a grand
- charade, with all the splendour that due preparation could bestow upon it.
- “It was such an amusement to grandpapa,” as Beatrice told Henrietta, “and
- it occupied Fred so nicely,” as she said to her father; both which
- observations being perfectly true, Mr. Geoffrey Langford was very willing
- to promote the sport, and to tranquillise his mother respecting the
- disarrangement of her furniture.
- </p>
- <p>
- But what should the word be? Every one had predilections of their own—some
- for comedy, others for tragedy; some for extemporary acting, others for
- Shakespeare. Beatrice, with her eye for drawing, already grouped her
- dramatis personae, so as to display Henrietta’s picturesque face and
- figure to the greatest advantage, and had designs of making her and Fred
- represent Catherine and Henry Seyton, whom, as she said, she had always
- believed to be exactly like them. Fred was inclined for “another touch at
- Prince Hal,” and devised numerous ways of acting Anonymous, for the sake
- of “Anon, anon, sir.” Henrietta wanted to contrive something in which
- Queen Bee might appear as an actual fairy bee, and had very pretty visions
- of making her a beneficent spirit in a little fanciful opera, for which
- she had written three or four verses, when Fred put an end to it be
- pronouncing it “nonsense and humbug.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So passed Tuesday, without coming to any decision, and Henrietta was
- beginning to fear that they would never fix at all, when on Wednesday
- morning Beatrice came down in an ecstasy with the news, that by some
- chance a wig of her papa’s was in the house, and a charade they must and
- would have which would bring in the wig. “Come and see it,” said she,
- drawing her two cousins into the study after breakfast: the study being
- the safest place for holding counsel on these secret subjects. “There now,
- is it not charming? O, a law charade we must have, that is certain!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred and Henrietta, who had never chanced to see a barrister’s wig before,
- were greatly diverted with its little tails, and tried it on in turn.
- While Henrietta was in the midst of her laugh at the sight of her own fair
- ringlets hanging out below the tight grey rolls, the door suddenly opened,
- and gave entrance to its owner, fiercely exclaiming, “What! nothing safe
- from you, you impertinent kittens?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Uncle Geoffrey, I beg your pardon!” cried Henrietta, blushing crimson.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t take it off till I have looked at you,” said Uncle Geoffrey. “Why,
- you would make a capital Portia!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes!” cried Queen Bee, “that is it: Portia she shall be, and I’ll be
- Nerissa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no, Queenie, I could never be Portia!” said Henrietta: “I am sure I
- can’t.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I have set my heart on being the ‘little scrubby lawyer’s clerk,’”
- said Busy Bee; “it is what I am just fit for; and let me see—Fred
- shall be Antonio, and that will make you plead from your very heart, and
- you shall have Alex for your Bassanio.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But the word. Do you mean to make it fit in with Falstaff and Catherine
- Seyton?” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me see,” said Beatrice; “bond—bondage, jew—jeweller,
- juniper,—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lawsuit,” said Fred. “Ay, don’t you see, all the scenes would come out of
- the ‘Merchant of Venice.’ There is ‘law’ when the old Jew is crying out
- for his ducats, and—but halloo!” and Fred stood aghast at the sight
- of his uncle, whose presence they had all forgotten in their eagerness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Traitor!” said Beatrice; “but never mind, I believe we must have let him
- into the plot, for nobody else can be Shylock.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Bee,” whispered Henrietta, reproachfully, “don’t tease him with our
- nonsense. Think of asking him to study Shylock’s part, when he has all
- that pile of papers on the table.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loth to go; There is some
- ill a-brewing to my rest, For I did dream of money-bags to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Such was Uncle Geoffrey’s reply; his face and tone so suddenly altered to
- the snarl of the old Jew, that his young companions at first started, and
- then clapped their hands in delighted admiration.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you really know it all?” asked Henrietta, in a sort of respectful awe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It won’t cost me much trouble to get it up,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford;
- “Shylock’s growls stick in one’s memory better than finer speeches.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then will you really be so very kind?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Provided you will leave the prompter of Monday night on the table this
- morning,” said Uncle Geoffrey, smiling in that manner which, to a certain
- degree, removed any feeling of obligation, by making it seem as if it was
- entirely for his own diversion. Nor could it be denied that he did
- actually enjoy it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The party took up their quarters in the study, which really was the only
- place fit for consultations and rehearsals, since Fred and Alex could not
- be taken to the maids’ workroom, and none of the downstairs apartments
- could be made subject to the confusion incidental to their preparations.
- Henrietta had many scruples at first about disturbing Uncle Geoffrey, but
- his daughter laughed at them all; and they were soon at an end when she
- perceived that he minded their chattering, spouting, and laughing, no more
- than if they had been so many little sparrows twittering on the eaves, but
- pursued the even tenor of his writing uninterruptedly, even while she
- fitted on his head a yellow pointed cap, which her ingenious fingers had
- compounded of the lining of certain ugly old curtains.
- </p>
- <p>
- His presence in this silent state served, too, as a protection in Mrs.
- Langford’s periodical visitations to stir the fire; but for him, she would
- assuredly have found fault, and probably Beatrice would have come to a
- collision with her, which would have put an end to the whole scheme.
- </p>
- <p>
- It formed a considerable addition to Henrietta’s list of his avocations,
- and really by making the utmost of everything he did for other people
- during that whole week, she made the number reach even to seventy-nine by
- the next Thursday morning. The most noted of these employments were the
- looking over a new Act of Parliament with the county member, the curing
- grandmamma’s old gander of a mysterious lameness, the managing of an
- emigration of a whole family to New Zealand, the guessing a riddle
- supposed “to have no answer,” and the mending of some extraordinary spring
- that was broken in Uncle Roger’s new drill. Beatrice was charmed with the
- list; Aunt Mary said it was delightful to be so precious to every one; and
- grandpapa, shaking his head at his son, said he was ashamed to find that
- his family contained such a Jack of all trades; to which Uncle Geoffrey
- replied, that it was too true that “all work and no play make Jack a very
- dull boy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The breaking up of the frost, with a succession of sleet, snow and rain,
- was much in favour of Beatrice and her plans, by taking away all
- temptation from the boys to engage in out-of-door amusements; and Antonio
- and Bassanio studied their parts so diligently, that Carey was heard to
- observe that it might just as well be half year. They had besides their
- own proper parts, to undertake those of the Princes of Arragon and
- Morocco, since Queen Bee, willing to have as much of Nerissa as possible,
- had determined to put their choice, and that of Bassanio, all into the one
- scene belonging to “suit.” It was one of those occasions on which she
- showed little consideration, for she thus gave Portia an immense quantity
- to learn in only two days; persuading herself all the time that it was no
- such hard task, since the beautiful speech about mercy Henrietta already
- knew by heart, and she made no difficulties about the rest. Indeed,
- Beatrice thought herself excessively amiable in doing all she could to
- show off her cousin’s beauty and acting, whilst taking a subordinate part
- herself; forgetting that humility is not shown in choosing a part, but in
- taking willingly that which is assigned us.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was rather appalled at the quantity she had to learn, as well as
- at the prominent part she was to take; but she did not like to spoil the
- pleasure of the rest with objections, and applied herself in good earnest
- to her study. She walked about with a little Shakespeare in her hand; she
- learnt while she was dressing, working, waiting; sat up late, resisting
- many a summons from her mother to come to bed, and long before daylight,
- was up and learning again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The great evening had come, and the audience were thus arranged:
- grandmamma took up her carpet-work, expressing many hopes to Aunt Roger
- that it would be over now and out of the children’s heads, for they turned
- the house upside down, and for her part, she thought it very like
- play-acting. Aunt Roger, returning the sentiment with interest, took out
- one of the little brown holland frocks, which she seemed to be always
- making. Uncle Roger composed himself to sleep in the arm-chair for want of
- his brother to talk to; grandpapa moved a sofa to the front for Aunt Mary,
- and sat down by her, declaring that they would see something very pretty,
- and hoping it would not be too hard a nut for his old wits to crack;
- Jessie, and such of the boys as could not be persuaded to be magnificos,
- found themselves a convenient station, and the scene opened.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a very short one, but it made every one laugh greatly, thanks to
- Shylock’s excellent acting, and the chorus of boys, who greatly enjoyed
- chasing him across the stage, crying, “The law, his ducats, and his
- daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, after a short interval, appeared Portia, a silver arrow in her hair,
- almost lovely enough for the real Portia; though the alarmed expression in
- her glowing face was little accordant with the calm dignified
- self-possession of the noble Venetian heiress. Nerissa, a handkerchief
- folded squarely over her head, short petticoats, scarlet lambswool worked
- into her stockings, and a black apron trimmed with bright ribbon, made a
- complete little Italian waiting-maid; her quick, pert reply to her lady’s
- first faltering speech, seemed wonderfully to restore Portia to herself,
- and they got on well and with spirit through the description of the
- suitors, and the choice of the two first caskets. Portia looked
- excessively dignified, and Nerissa’s by-play was capital. Whether it was
- owing to Bassanio’s awkwardness or her own shyness, she did not prosper
- quite so well when the leaden casket was chosen; Bassanio seemed more
- afraid of her than rejoiced, and looked much more at Nerissa than at her,
- whilst she moved as slowly, and spoke in as cold and measured a way, as if
- it had been the Prince of Morocco who had unfortunately hit upon the right
- casket.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the grand concluding scene she was, however, all that could be wished.
- She really made a very pretty picture in the dark robes, the glowing
- carnation of her cheek contrasting with the grey wig, beneath which a few
- bright ringlets still peeped out; one little white hand raised, and the
- other holding the parchment, and her eyes fixed on the Jew, as if she
- either imagined herself Portia, or saw her brother in Antonio’s case, for
- they glistened with tears, and her voice had a tremulous pleading tone,
- which fairly made her grandfather and mother both cry heartily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take, then, thy bond; take thou thy pound of flesh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Duke (little Willy) was in an agony, and was forcibly withheld by
- Bassanio from crying “No, he shan’t!” Nerissa was so absorbed as even to
- have forgotten herself; Shylock could hardly keep his countenance up to
- the necessary expression of malice and obduracy; even Johnny and Dick were
- hanging with breathless attention on the “but,” when suddenly there was a
- general start throughout the party; the door opened; Atkins, with a voice
- and face full of delight, announced “Master Roger,” and there entered a
- young man, in a pea jacket and worsted comforter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such confusion, such rapture as ensued! The tumultuous welcomes and
- handshakings before the sailor had time to distinguish one from another,
- the actors assuming their own characters, grandmamma and Mrs. Roger
- Langford asking dozens of questions in a breath, and Mr. Roger Langford
- fast asleep in his great arm-chair, till roused by Dick tugging at his
- arm, and Willy hammering on his knee, he slowly arose, saying, “What,
- Roger, my boy, is it you? I thought it was all their acting!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! Miss Jessie,” exclaimed Roger; “that is right: I have not seen such a
- crop of shining curls since I have been gone. So you have not lost your
- pink cheeks with pining for me. How are they all at home?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, Roger, your Aunt Mary,” said his mother; and instantly there was a
- subduing of the young sailor’s boisterous mirth, as he turned to answer
- her gentle welcome. The laugh arose the next moment at the appearance of
- the still half-disguised actors: Alex without Bassanio’s short black cloak
- and slouched hat and feather, but still retaining his burnt cork eyebrows
- and moustache, and wondering that Roger did not know him; Uncle Geoffrey
- still in Shylock’s yellow cap, and Fred somewhat grim with the Prince of
- Morocco’s complexion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How d’ye do, Phil?” said Roger, returning his cousinly shake of the hand
- with interest. “What! are not you Philip Carey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Roger, Roger!” cried a small figure, in whom the Italian maiden
- predominated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, Aunt Geoffrey masquerading too? How d’ye do, aunt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well done, Roger! That’s right! Go on!” cried his father, laughing
- heartily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it not my aunt? No? Is it the little Bee, then? Why you are grown as
- like her! But where is Aunt Geoffrey then? Not here? That is a bore. I
- thought you would have all been in port here at Christmas. And is not this
- Philip? Come tell me, some of you, instead of laughing there. Are you Fred
- Langford, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Right this time,” said Fred, “so now you must shake hands with me in my
- own name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very glad to do so, and see you here at last,” said Roger, cordially.
- “And now tell me, what is all this about? One would think you were
- crossing the Line?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You shall hear what it is all about, and see too,” said Mr. Langford. “We
- must have that wicked old Jew disappointed, must not we, Willy? But where
- is my little Portia? What is become of her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fled, I suspect,” said her mother, “gone to turn into herself before her
- introduction.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Roger, it was so jolly,” Carey was now heard to say above the
- confusion of voices. “Uncle Geoffrey was an old Jew, going to cut a pound
- of flesh out of Fred, and Henrietta was making a speech in a lawyer’s wig,
- and had just found such a dodge!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ha! like the masks in the carnival at Rio! Ferrars and I went ashore
- there, and—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you been at Sutton Leigh, Roger?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you dined?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cold turkey—excellent Christmas pie, only too much pepper—a
- cup of tea—no, but we will have the beef in—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Further conversation was suspended by these propositions, with the answers
- and thanks resulting therefrom, but in the midst grandpapa exclaimed, “Ah!
- here she is! Here is the counsellor! Here is a new cousin for you, Roger;
- here is the advocate for you when you have a tough law-suit! Lucky for
- you, Master Geoffrey, that she is not a man, or your nose would soon be
- put out of joint. You little rogue! How dared you make your mother and
- grandfather cry their hearts out?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was very glad to see you as bad as myself, sir,” said Mrs. Frederick
- Langford. “I was very much ashamed of being so foolish, but then, you
- know, I could hardly ever read through that scene without crying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! you are a prudent mamma, and will not let her be conceited. But to
- see Geoffrey, with his lips quivering, and yet frowning and looking savage
- with all his might and main! Well, you are a capital set of actors, all of
- you, and we must see the end of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the great desire of Beatrice, and she was annoyed with Henrietta
- for having thrown aside her borrowed garments, but the Fates decreed
- otherwise. The Christmas pie came in, grandpapa proceeded to carve it, and
- soon lost the remembrance of the charade in talking to his eldest grandson
- about his travels. A sailor just returned from four years on the South
- American coast, who had doubled Cape Horn, shot condors on the Andes,
- caught goats at Juan Fernandez, fished for sharks in the Atlantic, and
- heard parrots chatter in the Brazilian woods, could not fail to be very
- entertaining, even though he cared not for the Incas of Peru, and could
- tell little about the beauties of an iceberg; and accordingly everyone was
- greatly entertained, except the Queen Bee, who sat in a corner of the
- sofa, playing with her watch-chain, wondering how long Roger would go on
- eating pie, looking at the time-piece, and strangling the yawns induced by
- her inability to attract the notice of either of her squires, whose eyes
- and ears were all for the newcomer. She was not even missed; if she had
- been, it would have been some consolation; but on they went, listening and
- laughing, as if the course of the Euphrosyne, her quick sailing, and the
- adventures of her crew, were the only subjects of interest in the world.
- He was only at home for a week, but so much the worse, that would be till
- the end of Beatrice’s own visit, and she supposed it would be nothing but
- Euphrosyne the whole time.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was at last a change: Roger had half a hundred questions to ask
- about his cousins and all the neighbours.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And has Philip Carey set up for himself at Allonfield? Does he get any
- practice? I have a great mind to be ill; it would be such a joke to be
- doctored by Master Philip!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! to think of your taking Mr. Frederick for poor Philip,” said Jessie.
- “I assure you,” nodding to Fred, “I take it as a great compliment, and so
- will Philip.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And is Fanny Evans as pretty as ever?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! grown quite fat and coarse,” said Jessie; “but you may judge for
- yourself on Monday. Dear Mrs. Langford is so kind as to give us a regular
- Christmas party, and all the Evanses and Dittons are coming. And we are to
- dance in the dining-room, the best place for it in the county; the floor
- is so much better laid down than in the Allonfield assembly-room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No such good place for dancing as the deck of a frigate,” said Roger.
- “This time last year we had a ball on board the Euphrosyne at Rio. I took
- the prettiest girl there in to supper—don’t be jealous, Jessie, she
- had not such cheeks as yours. She was better off there than in the next
- ball where I met her, in the town. She fancied she had got rather a thick
- sandwich at supper: she peeped in, and what do you think she found? A
- great monster of a cockroach, twice as big as any you ever saw.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, you horrid creature!” cried Jessie, “I am sure it was your doing. I am
- sure it was your doing. I am sure you will give me a scorpion, or some
- dreadful creature! I won’t let you take me in to supper on Monday, I
- declare.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps I won’t have you. I mean to have Cousin Henrietta for my partner,
- if she will have me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, Cousin Roger,” faltered Henrietta, blushing crimson, with the
- doubt whether she was saying the right thing, and fearing Jessie might be
- vexed. Her confusion was increased the next moment, as Roger, looking at
- her more fully than he had done before, went on, “Much honoured, cousin.
- Now, all of you wish me joy. I am safe to have the prettiest girl in the
- room for my partner. But how slow of them all not to have engaged her
- before. Eh! Alex, what have you to say for yourself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope for Queen Bee,” said Alex.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Jessie must dance with me, because I don’t know how,” said Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dears, this will never do!” interposed grandmamma. “You can’t all
- dance with each other, or what is to become of the company? I never heard
- of such a thing. Let me see: Queen Bee must open the ball with little
- Henry Hargrave, and Roger must dance with Miss Benson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no,” cried Roger, “I won’t give up my partner, ma’am; I am a
- privileged person, just come home. Knight Sutton has not had too much of
- Henrietta or me, so you must let us be company. Come, Cousin Henrietta,
- stick fast to your engagement; you can’t break the first promise you ever
- made me. Here,” proceeded he, jumping up, and holding out his hand, “let
- us begin this minute; I’ll show you how we waltz with the Brazilian
- ladies.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, Cousin Roger, I cannot waltz,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s a pity. Come, Jessie, then.”
- </p>
- <p>
- If the practice of waltzing was not to be admired, there was something
- which was very nice in the perfect good humour with which Jessie answered
- her cousin’s summons, without the slightest sign of annoyance at his
- evident preference of Henrietta’s newer face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I can’t waltz, I can play for you,” said Henrietta, willing not to
- seem disobliging; and going to the piano, she played whilst Roger and
- Jessie whirled merrily round the room, every now and then receiving shocks
- against the furniture and minding them not the least in the world, till at
- last, perfectly out of breath, they dropped laughing upon the sofa.
- </p>
- <p>
- The observations upon the wild spirits of sailors ashore then sank into
- silence; Mrs. Roger Langford reproved her son for making such a racket, as
- was enough to kill his Aunt Mary; with a face of real concern he
- apologised from the bottom of his heart, and Aunt Mary in return assured
- him that she enjoyed the sight of his merriment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandmamma announced in her most decided tone that she would have no
- waltzes and no polkas at her party. Roger assured her that there was no
- possibility of giving a dance without them, and Jessie seconded him as
- much as she ventured; but Mrs. Langford was unpersuadable, declaring that
- she would have no such things in her house. Young people in her days were
- contented to dance country dances; if they wanted anything newer, they
- might have quadrilles, but as to these new romps, she would not hear of
- them.
- </p>
- <p>
- And here, for once in her life, Beatrice was perfectly agreed with her
- grandmamma, and she came to life again, and sat forward to join in the
- universal condemnation of waltzes and polkas that was going on round the
- table.
- </p>
- <p>
- With this drop of consolation to her, the party broke up, and Jessie, as
- she walked home to Sutton Leigh, found great solace in determining within
- herself that at any rate waltzing was not half so bad as dressing up and
- play-acting, which she was sure her mamma would never approve.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice came to her aunt’s room, when they went upstairs, and petitioned
- for a little talk, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, with kind pity for her
- present motherless condition, accepted her visit, and even allowed her to
- outstay Bennet, during whose operations the discussion of the charade, and
- the history of the preparations and contrivances gave subject to a very
- animated conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came matters of more interest. What Beatrice seemed above all to wish
- for, was to relieve herself by the expression of her intense dislike to
- the ball, and all the company, very nearly without exception, and there
- were few elders to whom a young damsel could talk so much without
- restraint as to Aunt Mary.
- </p>
- <p>
- The waltzing, too, how glad she was that grandmamma had forbidden it, and
- here Henrietta chimed in. She had never seen waltzing before; had only
- heard of it as people in their quiet homes hear and think of the doings of
- the fashionable world, and in her simplicity was perfectly shocked and
- amazed at Jessie, a sort of relation, practising it and pleading for it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear!” said Beatrice, laughing, “I do not know what you would do if
- you were me, when there is Matilda St. Leger polka-ing away half the days
- of her life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but Lady Matilda is a regular fashionable young lady.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, and so is Jessie at heart. It is the elegance, and the air, and the
- society that are wanting, not the will. It is the circumstances that make
- the difference, not the temper.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite true, Busy Bee,” said her aunt, “temper may be the same in very
- different circumstances.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is very curious, mamma,” said Henrietta, “how people can be
- particular in one point, and not in another. Now, Bee, I beg your pardon,
- only I know you don’t mind it, Jessie did not approve of your skating.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Beatrice, “every one has scruples of his own, and laughs at
- those of other people.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Which I think ought to teach Busy Bees to be rather less stinging,” said
- Aunt Mary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But then, mamma,” said Henrietta, “we must hold to the right scruples,
- and what are they? I do not suppose that in reality Jessie is less—less
- desirous of avoiding all that verges towards a want of propriety then we
- are, yet she waltzes. Now we were brought up to dislike such things.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, it is just according to what you are brought up to,” said Beatrice. “A
- Turkish lady despises us for showing our faces: it is just as you think
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, that will not do,” said Henrietta. “Something must be actually wrong.
- Mamma, do say what you think.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think, my dear, that woman has been mercifully endowed with an instinct
- which discerns unconsciously what is becoming or not, and whatever at the
- first moment jars on that sense is unbecoming in her own individual case.
- The fineness of the perception may be destroyed by education, or wilful
- dulling, and often on one point it may be silent, though alive and active
- on others.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Henrietta, as if satisfied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And above all,” said her mother, “it, like other gifts, grows dangerous,
- it may become affectation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pruding,” said Beatrice, “showing openly that you like it to be observed
- how prudent and proper you are.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whereas true delicacy would shrink from showing that it is conscious of
- anything wrong,” said Henrietta. “Wrong I do not exactly mean, but
- something on the borders of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Aunt Mary, “and above all, do not let this delicacy show
- itself in the carping at other people, which only exalts our own opinion
- of ourselves, and very soon turns into ‘judging our neighbour.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there is false delicacy, aunt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but it would be false kindness to enter on a fresh discussion
- tonight, when you ought to be fast asleep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The Queen Bee, usually undisputed sovereign of Knight Sutton, found in her
- cousin Roger a formidable rival. As son and heir, elder brother, and newly
- arrived after five years’ absence, he had considerable claims to
- attention, and his high spirits, sailor manners, sea stories, and bold
- open temper, were in themselves such charms that it was no wonder that
- Frederick and Alexander were seduced from their allegiance, and even
- grandpapa was less than usual the property of his granddaughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- This, however, she might have endured, had the sailor himself been
- amenable to her power, for his glories would then have become hers, and
- have afforded her further opportunities of coquetting with Fred. But
- between Roger and her there was little in common: he was not, and never
- had been, accessible to her influence; he regarded her, indeed, with all
- the open-hearted affection of cousinly intercourse, but for the rest,
- thought her much too clever for him, and far less attractive than either
- Henrietta or Jessie.
- </p>
- <p>
- If she would, Henrietta might have secured his devotion, for he was struck
- with her beauty, and considered it a matter of credit to himself to
- engross the prettiest person present. Had Beatrice been in her place, it
- may be doubted how far love of power, and the pleasure of teasing, might
- have carried her out of her natural character in the style that suited
- him; but Henrietta was too simple, and her mind too full of her own
- affairs even to perceive that he distinguished her. She liked him, but she
- showed none of the little airs which would have seemed to appropriate him.
- She was ready to be talked to, but only as she gave the attention due to
- any one, nay, showing, because she felt, less eagerness than if it had
- been grandpapa, Queen Bee, or Fred, a talk with the last of whom was a
- pleasure now longed for, but never enjoyed. To his stories of adventures,
- or accounts of manners, she lent a willing and a delighted ear; but all
- common-place jokes tending to flirtation fell flat; she either did not
- catch them, or did not catch at them. She might blush and look confused,
- but it was uncomfortable, and not gratified embarrassment, and if she
- found an answer, it was one either to change the subject, or honestly
- manifest that she was not pleased.
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not mortify Roger, who liked her all the time; and if he thought
- at all, only considered her as shy or grave, and still continued to admire
- her, and seek her out, whenever his former favourite, Jessie, was not in
- the way to rattle with in his usual style. Jessie was full of enjoyment,
- Henrietta was glad to be left to her own devices, her mamma was still more
- rejoiced to see her act so properly without self-consciousness or the
- necessity of interference, and the Queen Bee ought to have been duly
- grateful to the one faithful vassal who was proof against all allurements
- from her side and service.
- </p>
- <p>
- She ought, but the melancholy fact is that the devotion of womankind is
- usually taken as a matter of course. Beatrice would have despised and been
- very angry with Henrietta had she deserted to Roger, but she did not feel
- in the least grateful for her adherence, and would have been much more
- proud of retaining either of the boys. There was one point on which their
- attention could still be commanded, namely, the charades; for though the
- world may be of opinion that they had had quite a sufficiency of
- amusement, they were but the more stimulated by their success on Thursday,
- and the sudden termination in the very height of their triumph.
- </p>
- <p>
- They would, perhaps, have favoured the public with a repetition of
- Shylock’s trial the next evening, but that, to the great consternation,
- and, perhaps, indignation of Beatrice, when she came down to breakfast in
- the morning, she found their tiring-room, the study, completely cleared of
- all their various goods and chattels, Portia’s wig in its box, the three
- caskets gone back to the dressing-room, the duke’s throne safe in its
- place in the hall, and even Shylock’s yellow cap picked to pieces, and
- rolled up in the general hoard of things which were to come of use in
- seven years’ time. Judith, who was putting the finishing touches to the
- re-arrangement by shaking up the cushions of the great chair, and
- restoring the inkstand to its place in the middle of the table, gave in
- answer to her exclamations the information that “Missus had been up since
- seven o’clock, helping to put away the things herself, for she said she
- could not bear to have Mr. Geoffrey’s room not fit for anybody to sit in.”
- This might certainly be considered as a tolerably broad hint that they had
- better discontinue their representations, but they were arrived at that
- state of eagerness which may be best illustrated by the proverb referring
- to a blind horse. Every one, inclined to that same impetuosity, and want
- of soberness, can remember the dismay with which hosts of such disregarded
- checks will recur to the mind when too late, and the poor satisfaction of
- the self-justification which truly answers that their object was not even
- comprehended. Henrietta, accustomed but little to heed such indications of
- dissent from her will, did not once think of her grandmamma’s dislike, and
- Beatrice with her eyes fully open to it, wilfully despised it as a fidgety
- fancy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta had devised a series of scenes for the word assassin, and
- greatly delighted the imagination of her partners by a proposal to make a
- pair of asses’ ears of cotton velvet for the adornment of Bottom the
- weaver. Fred fell back in his chair in fits of laughing at the device, and
- Queen Bee capered and danced about the room, declaring her worthy to be
- her own “primest of viziers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And,” said Beatrice, “what an exquisite interlude it will make to relieve
- the various plagues of Monday evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why you don’t mean to act then!” exclaimed Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not? You don’t know what a relief it will be. It will be an excuse
- for getting away from all the stupidity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure it will,” cried Fred. “A bright thought, Mrs. Bee. We shall
- have it all to ourselves in the study in comfort.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But would grandmamma ever let us do it?” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will manage,” said Beatrice. “I will make grandpapa agree to it, and
- then she will not mind. Think how he enjoyed it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Before so many people!” said Henrietta. “O, Queenie, it will never do! It
- would be a regular exhibition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear, what nonsense!” said Beatrice. “Why, it is all among friends and
- neighbours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Friends and neighbours to you,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yours too. Fred, she is deserting! I thought you meant to adopt or
- inherit all Knight Sutton and its neighbourhood could offer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A choice inheritance that neighbourhood, by your account,” said Fred.
- “But come, Henrietta, you must not spoil the whole affair by such nonsense
- and affectation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Affectation! O, Fred!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, to be sure it is,” said Fred: “to set up such scruples as these.
- Why, you said yourself that you forget all about the spectators when once
- you get into the spirit of the thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is affectation,” said Beatrice, seeing her advantage, “but
- thinking what other people will think?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There are few persuasions to which a girl who claims to possess some
- degree of sense is more accessible, than the imputation of affectation,
- especially when brought forward by a brother, and enforced by a clever and
- determined friend. Such a feeling is no doubt often very useful in
- preventing folly, but it may sometimes be perverted to the smothering of
- wholesome scruples. Henrietta only pressed one point more, she begged not
- to be Titania.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, you must, you silly child,” said Beatrice. “I have such designs for
- dressing you! Besides, I mean to be Mustardseed, and make grandpapa laugh
- by my by-play at the giant Ox-beef.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But consider, Bee,” said Henrietta, “how much too tall I am for a fairy.
- It would be too absurd to make Titania as large as Bottom himself—spoil
- the whole picture. You might surely get some little girls to be the other
- fairies, and take Titania yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly it might conciliate people to have their own children made part
- of the show,” said Beatrice. “Little Anna Carey has sense enough, I think;
- ay, and the two Nevilles, if they will not be shy. We will keep you to
- come out in grand force in the last scene—Queen Eleanor sucking the
- poison. Aunt Mary has a certain black-lace scarf that will make an
- excellent Spanish mantilla. Or else suppose you are Berengaria, coming to
- see King Richard when he was ‘old-man-of-the-mountains.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no,” cried Fred, “stick to the Queen Eleanor scene. We will have no
- more blacking of faces. Yesterday I was too late down stairs because I
- could not get the abominable stuff out of my hair.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it would be a cruel stroke to be taken for Philip Carey again, in the
- gentleman’s own presence, too,” said Beatrice. “Monsieur is apparemment
- the apothecaire de famille. Do you remember, Henrietta, the French
- governess in Miss Edgworth’s book?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jessie smiled and nodded as if she was perfectly enchanted with the
- mistake,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I do not wonder at it,” said Beatrice, “the mistake, I mean. Fred’s
- white hands there have just the look of a doctor’s; of course Roger
- thought the only use of them could be to feel pulses, and Philip, for want
- of something better to do, is always trying for a genteel look.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You insulting creature!” said Fred. “Just as if I tried to look genteel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do, then, whether you try or not. You can’t help it, you know, and I
- am very sorry for you; but you do stand and walk and hold out your hand
- just as Philip is always trying to do, and it is no wonder Roger thought
- he had succeeded in attaining his object.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what a goose the man must be to make such absurdity his object,” said
- Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He could not be a Carey and be otherwise,” said Busy Bee. “And besides,
- what would you have him do? As to getting any practice, unless his kith
- and kin choose to victimise themselves philanthropically according to
- Roger’s proposal, I do not see what chance he has, where everyone knows
- the extent of a Carey’s intellects; and what is left for the poor man to
- do but to study the cut of his boots?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you say much more about it, Queenie,” said Henrietta, “you will make
- Fred dance in Bottom’s hob-nailed shoes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! it is a melancholy business,” said Beatrice; “but it cannot be
- helped. Fred cannot turn into a clodhopper. But what earthquake is this?”
- exclaimed she, as the front door was dashed open with such violence as to
- shake the house, and the next moment Alexander rushed in, heated and
- almost breathless. “Rats! rats!” was his cry; “Fred, that’s right. But
- where is Uncle Geoffrey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gone to Allonfield.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “More’s the pity. There are a whole host of rats in the great barn at
- home. Pincher caught me one just now, and they are going to turn the place
- regularly out, only I got them to wait while I came up here for you and
- Uncle Geoffrey. Come, make haste, fly—like smoke—while I go
- and tell grandpapa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Off flew Fred to make his preparation, and off to the drawing room hurried
- Alex to call grandpapa. He was greeted by a reproof from Mrs. Langford for
- shaking the house enough to bring it down, and grandpapa laughed, thanked
- him, and said he hoped to be at Sutton Leigh in time for the rat hunt, as
- he was engaged to drive grandmamma and Aunt Mary thither and to the
- Pleasance that afternoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two seconds more, and Fred and Alex were speeding away together, and the
- girls went up to put on their bonnets to walk and meet their elders at
- Sutton Leigh. For once Beatrice let Henrietta be as slow as she pleased,
- for she was willing to let as much of the visit as possible pass before
- they arrived there. They walked along, merrily concocting their
- arrangements for Monday evening, until at length they came to the gates of
- Sutton Leigh, and already heard the shouts of triumph, the barking of
- dogs, and the cackle of terrified poultry, which proclaimed that the war
- was at its height.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O! the glories of a rat hunt!” cried Beatrice. “Come, Henrietta, here is
- a safe place whence to contemplate it, and really it is a sight not to be
- lost.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta thought not indeed when she looked over a gate leading into the
- farm-yard on the side opposite to the great old barn, raised on a
- multitude of stone posts, a short ladder reaching to the wide doors which
- were folded back so as to display the heaps of straw thrown violently back
- and forward; the dogs now standing in attitudes of ecstatic expectation,
- tail straight out, head bent forward, now springing in rapture on the
- prey; the boys rushing about with their huge sticks, and coming down now
- and then with thundering blows, the labourers with their white shirt
- sleeves and pitchforks pulling down the straw, Uncle Roger with a
- portentous-looking club in the thick of the fight. On the ladder, cheering
- them on, stood grandpapa, holding little Tom in his arms, and at the
- bottom, armed with small sticks, were Charlie and Arthur, consoling
- themselves for being turned out of the melée, by making quite as much
- noise as all those who were doing real execution, thumping unmercifully at
- every unfortunate dead mouse or rat that was thrown out, and charging
- fiercely at the pigs, ducks, and geese that now and then came up to
- inspect proceedings, and perhaps, for such accidents will occur in the
- best regulated families, to devour a share of the prey.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice’s first exclamation was, “O! if papa was but here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing can go on without him, I suppose,” said Henrietta. “And yet, is
- this one of his great enjoyments?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear, don’t you know it is a part of the privilege of a free-born
- Englishman to delight in hunting ‘rats and mice and such small beer,’ as
- much or more than the grand chasse? I have not the smallest doubt that all
- the old cavaliers were fine old farm-loving fellows, who liked a rat hunt,
- and enjoyed turning out a barn with all their hearts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There goes Fred!” cried Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! capital. He takes to it by nature, you see. There—there! O what
- a scene it is! Look how beautifully the sun comes in, making that solid
- sort of light on the mist of dust at the top.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how beautifully it falls on grandpapa’s head! I think that grandpapa
- with little Tom is one of the best parts of the picture, Bee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure he is, that noble old head of his, and that beautiful gentle
- face; and to see him pointing, and soothing the child when he gets
- frightened at the hubbub, and then enjoying the victories over the poor
- rats as keenly as anybody!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly,” said Henrietta, “there is something very odd in man’s nature;
- they can like to do such cruel-sounding things without being cruel!
- Grandpapa, or Fred, or Uncle Roger, or Alex now, they are as kind and
- gentle as possible: yet the delight they can take in catching and killing—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is what town-people never can understand,” said Beatrice, “that
- hunting-spirit of mankind. I hate above all things to hear it cried down,
- and the nonsense that is talked about it. I only wish that those people
- could have seen what I did last summer—grandpapa calling Carey, and
- holding the ladder for him while he put the young birds into their nest
- that had fallen out. And O the uproar that there was one day when Dick did
- something cruel to a poor rabbit; it was two or three years ago, and Alex
- and Carey set upon him and thrashed him so that they were really punished
- for it, bad as it was of Dick; it was one of those bursts of generous
- indignation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a very curious thing,” said Henrietta, “the soldier spirit it must
- be, I suppose—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What are you philosophising about, young ladies?” asked Mr. Langford,
- coming up as Henrietta said these last words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only about the spirit of the chase, grandpapa,” said Beatrice, “what the
- pleasure can be of the field of slaughter there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Something mysterious, you may be sure, young ladies,” said grandpapa. “I
- have hunted rats once or twice a year now these seventy years or more, and
- I can’t say I am tired yet. And there is Master Fred going at it, for the
- first time in his life, as fiercely as any of us old veterans, and he has
- a very good eye for a hit, I can tell you, if it is any satisfaction to
- you. Ha! hoigh Vixen! hoigh Carey! that’s it—there he goes!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, grandpapa,” said Beatrice, catching hold of his hand, “I want just
- to speak to you. Don’t you think we might have a little charade-acting on
- Monday to enliven the evening a little?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh? what? More charades? Well, they are very pretty sport, only I think
- they would astonish the natives here a little. Are we to have the end of
- Shylock?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Beatrice, “we never condescend to repeat ourselves. We have a
- new word and a beauty, and don’t you think it will do very well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am afraid grandmamma will think you are going to take to private
- theatricals.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it won’t be nearly such regular acting as the last,” said Beatrice,
- “I do not think it would do to take another half-play for so many
- spectators, but a scene or two mostly in dumb show would make a very nice
- diversion. Only say that you consent, grandpapa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I don’t see any harm in it,” said grandpapa, “so long as grandmamma
- does not mind it. I suppose your mamma does not, Henrietta?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no,” said Henrietta, with a certain mental reservation that she would
- make her not mind it, or at any rate not gainsay it. Fred’s calling her
- affected was enough to make her consent, and bring her mamma to consent to
- anything; for so little is it really the nature of woman to exercise
- power, that if she domineers, it is sure to be compensated by some
- subjection in some other manner: and if Henrietta ruled her mother, she
- was completely under the dominion of Fred and Beatrice. Themistocles’ wife
- might rule Athens, but she was governed by her son.
- </p>
- <p>
- After this conversation they went in, and found Aunt Roger very busy,
- recommending servants to Aunt Mary, and grandmamma enforcing all she said.
- The visit soon came to an end, and they went on to the Pleasance, where
- the inspection did not prove quite as agreeable as on the first occasion;
- for grandmamma and Beatrice had very different views respecting the
- appropriation of the rooms, and poor Mrs. Frederick Langford was harassed
- and wearied by her vain attempts to accede to the wishes of both, and vex
- neither. Grandmamma was determined too to look over every corner, and
- discuss every room, and Henrietta, in despair at the fatigue her mother
- was obliged to go through, kept on seeking in vain for a seat for her, and
- having at last discovered a broken-backed kitchen chair in some of the
- regions below, kept diligently carrying it after her in all her
- peregrinations. She was constantly wishing that Uncle Geoffrey would come,
- but in vain; and between the long talking at Sutton Leigh, the wandering
- about the house, and the many discussions, her mamma was completely tired
- out, and obliged, when they came home, to confess that she had a headache.
- Henrietta fairly wished her safe at Rocksand.
- </p>
- <p>
- While Henrietta was attending her mother to her own room, and persuading
- her to lay up for the evening, Beatrice, whose head was full of but one
- matter, pursued Mrs. Langford into the study, and propounded her grand
- object. As she fully expected, she met with a flat refusal, and sitting
- down in her arm-chair, Mrs. Langford very earnestly began with “Now listen
- to me, my dear child,” and proceeded with a long story of certain private
- theatricals some forty years ago, which to her certain knowledge, ended in
- a young lady eloping with a music master. Beatrice set to work to argue:
- in the first place it was not probable that either she or Henrietta would
- run away with their cousins; secondly, that the former elopement was not
- chargeable on poor Shakespeare; thirdly, that these were not private
- theatricals at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And pray what are they, then—when you dress yourselves up, and
- speak the speeches out as boldly as Mrs. Siddons, or any of them?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You pay us a great compliment,” said Beatrice, who could sometimes be
- pert when alone with grandmamma; and she then went on with her explanation
- of how very far this was from anything that could be called theatrical; it
- was the guessing the word, not their acting, that was the important point.
- The distinction was too fine for grandmamma; it was play-acting, and that
- was enough for her, and she would not have it done.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But grandpapa liked it, and had given full consent.” This was a powerful
- piece of ordnance which Beatrice had kept in reserve, but at the first
- moment the shot did not tell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ladies were the best judges in such a case as this,” said Mrs. Langford,
- “and let who would consent, she would never have her granddaughters
- standing up, speaking speeches out of Shakespeare, before a whole room
- full of company.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, grandmamma, I’ll tell you what: to oblige you, we will not
- have one single scene out of Shakespeare—not one. Won’t that do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will go to some other play-book, and that is worse,” said Mrs.
- Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, we will not: we will do every bit out of our own heads, and it
- shall be almost all Fred and Alex; Henrietta and I will scarcely come in
- at all. And it will so shorten the evening, and amuse every one so nicely!
- and grandpapa has said we may.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford gave a sort of sigh. “Ah, well! you always will have your
- own way, and I suppose you must; but I never thought to see such things in
- my house. In my day, young people thought no more of a scheme when their
- elders had once said, ‘No.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, only you must not say so, grandmamma. I am sure we would give it up
- if you did; but pray do not—we will manage very well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And put the whole house in a mess, as you did last time; turn everything
- upside down. I tell you, Beatrice, I can’t have it done. I shall want the
- study to put out the supper in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We can dress in our own rooms, then,” said Beatrice, “never mind that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, then, if you will make merry-andrews of yourselves, and your
- fathers and mothers like to let you, I can’t help it—that’s all I
- have to say,” said Mrs. Langford, walking out of the room; while Fred
- entered from the other side a moment after. “Victory, victory, my dear
- Fred!” cried Beatrice, darting to meet him in an ecstasy. “I have
- prevailed: you find me in the hour of victory. The Assassin for ever!
- announced for Monday night, before a select audience!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you are an irresistible Queen Bee,” said Fred; “why Alex has just
- been telling me ever so much that his mother told him about grandmamma’s
- dislike to it. I thought the whole concern a gone ‘coon, as they say in
- America.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I got grandpapa first,” said Beatrice, “and then I persuaded her; she
- told me it would lead to all sorts of mischief, and gave me a long lecture
- which had nothing to do with it. But I found out at last that the chief
- points which alarmed her were poor Shakespeare and the confusion in the
- study; so by giving up those two I gained everything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t mean that you gave up bully Bottom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I do; but you need not resign your asses’ ears. You shall wear them
- in the character of King Midas.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think,” said the ungrateful Fred, “that you might as well have given it
- all up together as Bottom.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no; just think what capabilities there are in Midas. We will
- decidedly make him King of California, and I’ll be the priestess of
- Apollo; there is an old three-legged epergne-stand that will make a most
- excellent tripod. And only think of the whispering into the reeds, ‘King
- Midas has the ears of an ass.’ I would have made more of a fight for
- Bottom, if that had not come into my head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you will have nothing to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That helped to conciliate. I promised we girls should appear very little,
- and for the sake of effect, I had rather Henrietta broke on the world in
- all her beauty at the end. I do look forward to seeing her as Queen
- Eleanor; she will look so regal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred smiled, for he delighted in his sister’s praises. “You are a wondrous
- damsel, busy one,” said he, “to be content to play second fiddle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Second fiddle! As if I were not the great moving spring! Trust me, you
- would never write yourself down an ass but for the Queen Bee. How shall we
- ever get your ears from Allonfield? Saturday night, and only till Monday
- evening to do everything in!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you will do it,” said Fred. “I wonder what you and Henrietta cannot
- do between you! Oh, there is Uncle Geoffrey come in,” he exclaimed, as he
- heard the front door open.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I must go and dress,” said Beatrice, seized with a sudden haste,
- which did not speak well for the state of her conscience.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey was in the hall, taking off his mud-bespattered gaiters.
- “So you are entered with the vermin, Fred,” called he, as the two came out
- of the drawing-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O how we wished for you, Uncle Geoffrey! but how did you hear it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I met Alex just now. Capital sport you must have had. Are you only just
- come in?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, we were having a consultation about the charades,” said Fred; “the
- higher powers consent to our having them on Monday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Grandmamma approving?” asked Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes,” said Fred, in all honesty, “she only objected to our taking a
- regular scene in a play, and ‘coming it as strong’ as we did the other
- night; so it is to be all extemporary, and it will do famously.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice, who had been waiting in the dark at the top of the stairs,
- listening, was infinitely rejoiced that her project had been explained so
- plausibly, and yet in such perfect good faith, and she flew off to dress
- in high spirits. Had she mentioned it to her father, he would have
- doubted, taken it as her scheme, and perhaps put a stop to it: but hearing
- of it from Frederick, whose pleasures were so often thwarted, was likely
- to make him far more unwilling to object. For its own sake, she knew he
- had no objection to the sport; it was only for that of his mother; and
- since he had heard of her as consenting, all was right. No, could Beatrice
- actually say so to her own secret soul?
- </p>
- <p>
- She could not; but she could smother the still small voice that checked
- her, in a multitude of plans, and projects, and criticisms, and airy
- castles, and, above all, the pleasure of triumph and dominion, and the
- resolution not to yield, and the delight of leading.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- “Our hearts and all our members, being mortified from all worldly and
- carnal lusts:” so speaks the collect with which we begin the new year—such
- the prayer to which the lips of the young Langfords said, “Amen:” but what
- was its application to them? What did they do with the wicked world in
- their own guarded homes? There was Uncle Geoffrey, he was in the world. It
- might be for him to pray for that spirit which enabled him to pass
- unscathed through the perils of his profession, neither tempted to grasp
- at the honours nor the wealth which lay in his way, unhardened and
- unsoured by the contact of the sin and selfishness on every side. This
- might indeed be the world. There was Jessie Carey, with her love of dress,
- and admiration, and pleasure; she should surely pray that she might live
- less to the vanities of the world; there were others, whose worn
- countenances spoke of hearts devoted to the cares of the world; but to
- those fair, fresh, happy young things, early taught how to prize vain pomp
- and glory, their minds as yet free from anxiety, looking from a safe
- distance on the busy field of trial and temptation; were not they truly
- kept from that world which they had renounced?
- </p>
- <p>
- Alas! that they did not lay to heart that the world is everywhere; that if
- education had placed them above being tempted by the poorer, cheaper, and
- more ordinary attractions, yet allurements there were for them also. A
- pleasure pursued with headlong vehemence because it was of their own
- devising, love of rule, the spirit of rivalry, the want of submission;
- these were of the world. Other temptations had not yet reached them, but
- if they gave way to those which assailed them in their early youth, how
- could they expect to have strength to bear up against the darker and
- stronger ones which would meet their riper years?
- </p>
- <p>
- Even before daylight had fully found its way into Knight Sutton Hall,
- there was many a note of preparation, and none clearer or louder than
- those of the charade actors. Beatrice was up long before light, in the
- midst of her preparations, and it was not long after, as, lamp in hand,
- she whisked through the passages, Frederick’s voice was heard demanding
- whether the Busy Bee had turned into a firefly, and if the paste was made
- wherewith Midas was to have his crown stuck with gold paper. Zealous
- indeed were the workers, and heartily did old Judith wish them anywhere
- else, as she drove them, their lamps, their paste, and newspaper, from one
- corner of the study to the other, and at last fairly out into the hall,
- threatening them with what Missus would say to them. At last grandmamma
- came down with a party of neat little notes in her hand, to be immediately
- sent off by Martin and the cart to Allonfield, and Martin came to the door
- leading to the kitchen regions to receive his directions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O how lucky!” cried Queen Bee, springing up. “The cotton velvet for the
- ears! I’ll write a note in a second!” Then she paused. “But I can’t do it
- without Henrietta, I don’t know how much she wants. Half a yard must do, I
- suppose; but then, how to describe it? Half a yard of donkey-coloured
- velvet! It will never do; I must see Henrietta first!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have not you heard her bell?” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, shall I go and knock at the door? She must be up by this time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You had better ask Bennet,” said Fred; “she sometimes gets up quietly,
- and dresses herself without Bennet, if mamma is asleep, because it gives
- her a palpitation to be disturbed in the morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Bennet was shouted for, and proved not to have been into her mistress’s
- room. The charade mania was not strong enough to make them venture upon
- disturbing Mrs. Frederick Langford, and to their great vexation, Martin
- departed bearing no commission for the asinine decorations.
- </p>
- <p>
- About half an hour after, Henrietta made her appearance, as sorry as any
- one that the opportunity had been lost, more especially as mamma had been
- broad awake all the time, and the only reason she had not rung the bell
- was, that she was not ready for Bennet.
- </p>
- <p>
- As usual, she was called an incorrigible dawdle, and made humble
- confession of the same, offering to do all in her power to make up for the
- morning’s laziness. But what would Midas be without his ears?
- </p>
- <p>
- The best plan that Queen Bee could devise, was, that, whilst Henrietta was
- engaged with the other preparations, she should walk to Sutton Leigh with
- Frederick, to despatch Alexander to Allonfield. No sooner said than done,
- and off they set, but neither was this plan fated to meet with success,
- for just as they came in sight of Sutton Leigh, they were hailed by the
- loud hearty voice of Roger, and beheld him at the head of four brothers,
- marching off to pay his respects to his Aunt Carey, some three miles off.
- Alex came to hold council at Queen Bee’s summons, but he could do nothing
- for her, for he had that morning been taken to task for not having made a
- visit to Mrs. Carey, since he came home, and especially ordered off to
- call upon her, before meeting her at the party that evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How abominably provoking!” cried Beatrice; “just as if it signified. If I
- had but a fairy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Carey!” called Alex, “here! Bee wants to send over to Allonfield: won’t
- you take Dumple and go?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not I,” responded Carey; “I want to walk with Roger. But there’s Dumple,
- let her go herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, ride him?” asked Beatrice, “thank you, Carey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fred might drive you,” said Carey; “O no, poor fellow, I suppose he does
- not know how.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred coloured with anger. “I do,” said he; “I have often driven our own
- horses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay,” said Beatrice, “with the coachman sitting by you, and Aunt Mary
- little guessing what you were doing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I assure you, Queen,” said Fred, very earnestly, “I do really know how to
- drive, and if we may have the gig, and you will trust yourself with me, I
- will bring you home quite safe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know you can have the gig,” said Carey, “for papa offered it to Roger
- and Alex this morning; only we chose all to walk together. To think of
- doubting whether to drive old Dumple!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t question,” said Fred; “I only want to know if Busy Bee will go. I
- won’t break your neck, I promise you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice was slightly mistrustful, and had some doubts about Aunt Mary,
- but poor Alex did much to decide her, though intending quite the reverse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t advise you, Bee,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, as to that,” said she, pleased to see that he disliked the plan, “I
- have great faith in Dumple’s experience, and I can sit tight in a chay, as
- the boy said to grandpapa when he asked him if he could ride. My chief
- doubt is about Aunt Mary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred’s successful disobedience in the matter of skating had decidedly made
- him less scrupulous about showing open disregard of his mother’s desires,
- and he answered in a certain superior patronizing manner, “O, you know I
- only give way sometimes, because she does make herself so intensely
- miserable about me; but as she will be spared all that now, by knowing
- nothing about it, I don’t think it need be considered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice recollected what her father had said, but eluded it the next
- moment, by replying to herself, that no commands had been given in this
- case.
- </p>
- <p>
- Alex stood fumbling with the button of his great coat, looking much
- annoyed, and saying nothing; Roger called out to him that they could not
- wait all day, and he exerted himself to take Beatrice by the arm, and say,
- “Bee, I wish you would not, I am sure there will be a blow up about it at
- home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, you think nobody can or may drive me but yourself, Master Alex,” said
- Beatrice, laughing. “No, no, I know very well that nobody will care when
- it is done, and there are no commands one way or the other. I love my own
- neck, I assure you, Alex, and will not get that into a scrape. Come, if
- that will put you into a better humour, I’ll dance with you first
- to-night.” Alex turned away, muttering, “I don’t like it—I’d go
- myself, but—Well, I shall speak to Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice smiled with triumph at the jealousy which she thought she had
- excited, and watched to see the effect of the remonstrance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are sure now,” said he, “that you can drive safely? Remember it would
- be a tolerable piece of work if you were to damage that little Bee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This eloquent expostulation might have had some weight, if it had come
- from any one else; but Fred was too much annoyed at the superiority of his
- rival to listen with any patience, and he replied rather sullenly, that he
- could take as good care of her as Alex himself, and he only wished that
- their own horses were come from Rocksand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I have no more to say,” said Alex, “only please to mind this,
- Langford junior, you may do just as you please with our horse, drive him
- to Jericho for what I care. It was for your own sake and Beatrice’s that I
- spoke.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much obliged, Langford senior,” replied Fred, making himself as tall as
- he could, and turning round to Carey with a very different tone, “Now,
- Carey, we won’t stop you any longer, if you’ll only just be so good as to
- tell your man to get out the gig.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Carey did so, and Beatrice and Frederick were left alone, but not long,
- for Uncle Roger presently came into the yard with Willy and Arthur running
- after him. To take possession of his horse and carriage, in his very
- sight, without permission, was quite impossible, and, besides, Beatrice
- knew full well that her dexterity could obtain a sanction from him which
- might be made to parry all blame. So tripping up to him, she explained in
- a droll manner the distress in which the charade actors stood, and how the
- boys had said that they might have Dumple to drive to Allonfield. Good
- natured Uncle Roger, who did not see why Fred should not drive as well as
- Alex or any of his other boys, knew little or nothing of his
- sister-in-law’s fears, and would, perhaps, have taken Fred’s side of the
- question if he had, did exactly as she intended, declared them perfectly
- welcome to the use of Dumple, and sent Willy into the house for the
- driving whip. Thus authorized, Beatrice did not fear even her father, who
- was not likely to allow in words what a nonentity the authority of Uncle
- Roger might really be esteemed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Willy came back with a shilling in his hand, and an entreaty that he might
- go with Queen Bee and Fred to buy a cannon for the little ships, of which
- Roger’s return always produced a whole fleet at Sutton Leigh. His cousins
- were in a triumphant temper of good nature, and willingly consenting, he
- was perched between them, but for one moment Beatrice’s complacency was
- diminished as Uncle Roger called out, “Ha! Fred take care! What are you
- doing?—you’ll be against the gate-post—don’t bring his head so
- short round. If you don’t take more care, you’ll certainly come to a smash
- before you get home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- If honour and credit had not been concerned, both Beatrice and Frederick
- would probably have been much better satisfied to have given up their bold
- design after this debut, but they were far too much bent on their own way
- to yield, and Fred’s pride would never have allowed him to acknowledge
- that he felt himself unequal to the task he had so rashly undertaken.
- Uncle Roger, believing it to be only carelessness instead of ignorance,
- and too much used to dangerous undertakings of his own boys to have many
- anxieties on their account, let them go on without further question, and
- turned off to visit his young wheat without the smallest uneasiness
- respecting the smash he had predicted, as he had done, by way of warning,
- at least twenty times before.
- </p>
- <p>
- Busy Bee was in that stage of girlhood which is very sensible on some
- points, in the midst of great folly upon others, and she was quite wise
- enough to let Fred alone, to give full attention to his driving all the
- way to Allonfield. Dumple knew perfectly well what was required of him,
- and went on at a very steady well-behaved pace, up the hill, across the
- common, and into the town, where, leaving him at the inn, they walked into
- the street, and Beatrice, after an infinity of searching, succeeded in
- obtaining certain grey cotton velvet, which, though Fred asserted that
- donkeys had a tinge of lilac, was certainly not unfit to represent their
- colour. As Fred’s finances were in a much more flourishing state since New
- Year’s day, he proceeded to delight the very heart of Willy by a present
- of a pair of little brass cannon, on which his longing eyes had often
- before been fixed, and they then returned to the carriage, in some dismay
- on perceiving that it was nearly one o’clock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must go straight home,” said Beatrice, “or this velvet will be of no
- use. There is no time to drive to Sutton Leigh and walk from thence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Unfortunately, however, there was an influential personage who was by no
- means willing to consent to this arrangement, namely, Dumple, who, well
- aware that an inexperienced hand held the reins, was privately determined
- that his nose should not be turned away from the shortest road to his own
- stable.
- </p>
- <p>
- As soon, therefore, as he came to the turning towards Sutton Leigh, he
- made a decided dash in that direction. Fred pulled him sharply, and a
- little nervously; the horse resisted; Fred gave him a cut with the whip,
- but Dumple felt that he had the advantage, and replying with a
- demonstration of kicking, suddenly whisked round the corner, and set off
- over the rough jolting road at a pace very like running away. Fred pulled
- hard, but the horse went the faster. He stood up. “Sit still,” cried
- Beatrice, now speaking for the first time, “the gate will stop him;” but
- ere the words were uttered, Frederick, whether by a movement of his own,
- or the rapid motion of the carriage, she knew not, was thrown violently to
- the ground; and as she was whirled on, she saw him no more. Instinct,
- rather than presence of mind, made her hold fast to the carriage with one
- hand, and throw the other arm round little Willy, to prevent him from
- being thrown out, as they were shaken from side to side by the ruts and
- stones over which they were jolted. A few minutes more, and their way was
- barred by a gate—that which she had spoken of—the horse, used
- to stopping there, slackened his pace, and stood still, looking over it as
- if nothing had happened.
- </p>
- <p>
- Trembling in every limb, Beatrice stood safely on the ground, and Willy
- beside her. Without speaking, she hurried back to seek for Fred, her steps
- swifter than they had ever before been, though to herself it seemed as if
- her feet were of lead, and the very throbbing of her heart dragged her
- back. In every bush she fancied she saw Fred coming to meet her, but it
- was only for a moment, and at length she saw him but too plainly. He was
- stretched at full length on the ground, senseless—motionless. She
- sank rather than knelt down beside him, and called him; but not a token
- was there that he heard her. She lifted his hand, it fell powerless, and
- clasping her own, she sat in an almost unconscious state of horror, till
- roused by little Willy, who asked in a terrified breathless whisper,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bee, is he dead?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, no,” cried she, as if she could frighten away her own fears; “he
- is only stunned. He is—he must be alive. He will come to him-self!
- Help me to lift him up—here—that is it—his head on my
- lap—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, the blood!” said Willy, recoiling in increased fear, as he saw it
- streaming from one or two cuts and bruises on the side of the face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is not the worst,” said Beatrice. “There—hold him toward the
- wind.” She raised his head, untied his handkerchief, and hung over him;
- but there was not a sound, not a breath; his head sank a dead weight on
- her knee. She locked her hands together, and gazed wildly round for help;
- but no one all over the wide lonely common could be seen, except Willy,
- who stood helplessly looking at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aunt Mary! O, Aunt Mary!” cried she, in a tone of the bitterest anguish
- of mind. “Fred—dear, dear Freddy, open your eyes, answer me! Oh,
- only speak to me! O what shall I do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray to God,” whispered Willy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You—you—Willy; I can’t—it was my doing. O, Aunt Mary!”
- A few moments passed in silence, then she exclaimed, “What are we doing
- here? Willy, you must go and call them. The Hall is nearest; go through
- the plantation as fast as you can. Go to papa in the study; if he is not
- there, find grandpapa—any one but Aunt Mary. Mind, Willy, don’t let
- her hear it, it would kill her. Go, fly! You understand—any one but
- Aunt Mary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Greatly relieved at being sent out of sight of that senseless form, Willy
- required no second bidding, but rushed off at a pace which bade fare to
- bring him to the Hall in a very brief space. Infinite were the
- ramifications of thought that now began to chase each other over the
- surface of her mind, as she sat supporting her cousin’s head, all clear
- and distinct, yet all overshadowed by that agony of suspense which made
- her sit as if she was all eye and ear, watching for the slightest motion,
- the faintest sound, that hope might seize as a sign of life. She wiped
- away the blood which was streaming from the cuts in the face, and softly
- laid her trembling hand to seek for some trace of a blow amid the fair
- shining hair; she felt the pulse, but she could not satisfy herself
- whether it beat or not; she rubbed the cold hand between both her own, and
- again and again started with the hope that the long black eyelashes were
- being lifted from the white cheek, or that she saw a quivering of lip or
- nostril. All this while her thoughts were straying miles away, and yet so
- wondrously and painfully present. As she thought of her Uncle Frederick,
- and, as it were, realized his death, which had happened so nearly in this
- same manner, she experienced a sort of heart-sinking which would almost
- make her believe in a fate on the family. And that Fred should be cut off
- in the midst of an act of disobedience, and she the cause! O thought
- beyond endurance! She tried to pray for him, for herself, for her aunt,
- but no prayer would come; and suddenly she found her mind pursuing Willy,
- following him through all the gates and gaps, entering the garden, opening
- the study door, seeing her father’s sudden start, hearing poor Henrietta’s
- cry, devising how it would be broken to her aunt; and again, the misery of
- recollecting her overpowered her, and she gave a groan, the very sound of
- which thrilled her with the hope that Fred was reviving, and made her, if
- possible, watch with double intenseness, and then utter a desponding sigh.
- She wished it was she who lay there, unconscious of such exceeding
- wretchedness, and, strange to say, her imagination began to devise all
- that would be said were it really so; what all her acquaintance would say
- of the little Queen Bee, how soon Matilda St. Leger would forget her, how
- long Henrietta would cherish the thought of her, how deeply and silently
- Alex would grieve. “He would be a son to papa,” she thought; but then came
- a picture of her home, her father and mother without their only one, and
- tears came into her eyes, which she brushed away, almost smiling at the
- absurdity of crying for her own imagined death, instead of weeping over
- this but too positive and present distress.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was nothing to interrupt her; Fred lay as lifeless as before, and
- not a creature passed along the lonely road. The frosty air was perfectly
- still, and through it sounded the barking of dogs, the tinkle of the
- sheep-bell, the woodsman’s axe in the plantations, and now and then the
- rattle of Dumple’s harness, as she shook his head or shifted his feet at
- the gate where he had been left standing. The rooks wheeled above her head
- in a clear blue sky, the little birds answering each other from the high
- furze-bushes, and the pee-wits came careering near her with their broad
- wings, floating movement, and long melancholy note like lamentation.
- </p>
- <p>
- At length, far away, there sounded on the hard turnpike road a horse’s
- tread, coming nearer and nearer. Help was at hand! Be it who it might,
- some human sympathy would be with her, and that most oppressive solitude,
- which seemed to have lasted for years instead of minutes, would be
- relieved. In almost an agony of nervousness lest the newcomer might pass
- by, she gently laid her cousin’s head on the grass, and flew rather than
- ran towards the opening of the lane. She was too late, the horseman had
- passed, but she recognised the shining hat, the form of the shoulders, and
- with a scream almost wild in its energy, called “Philip! O, Philip Carey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Joy, joy! he looked back, he turned his horse, and came up in amazement at
- finding her there, and asking questions which she could only answer by
- leading the way down the lane.
- </p>
- <p>
- In another moment he was off his horse, and she could almost have adored
- him when she heard him pronounce that Frederick lived.
- </p>
- <p>
- A few moments passed whilst he was handling his patient, and asking
- questions, when Beatrice beheld some figures advancing from the
- plantation. She dashed through the heath and furze to meet them, sending
- her voice before her with the good news, “He is alive! Philip Carey says
- he is alive!” and with these words she stood before her father and her
- Aunt Mary.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her aunt seemed neither to see nor hear her; but with a face as white and
- still as a marble figure, hastened on. Mr. Geoffrey Langford stopped for
- an instant and looked at her with an expression such as she never could
- forget. “Beatrice, my child!” he exclaimed, “you are hurt!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, papa,” she cried. “It is Fred’s blood—I am quite, quite
- safe!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He held her in his arms, pressed her close to him, and kissed her brow,
- with a whispered exclamation of fervent thankfulness. Beatrice could never
- remember that moment without tears; the tone, the look, the embrace,—all
- had revealed to her the fervour of her father’s affection, beyond—far
- beyond all that she had ever imagined. It was but for one instant that he
- gave way; the next, he was hastening on, and stood beside Frederick as
- soon as his sister-in-law.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- The drawing-room at Knight Sutton Hall was in that state of bustle
- incidental to the expectation of company, which was sure to prevail
- wherever Mrs. Langford reigned. She walked about, removing the covers from
- chairs and ottomans, shaking out curtains, adjusting china, and appealing
- to Mrs. Frederick Langford in various matters of taste, though never
- allowing her to move to assist her. Henrietta, however, often came to her
- help, and was certainly acting in a way to incur the severe displeasure of
- the absent queen, by laying aside Midas’s robes to assist in the
- arrangements. “That picture is crooked, I am sure!” said Mrs. Langford;
- and of course she was not satisfied till she had summoned Geoffrey from
- the study to give his opinion, and had made him mount upon a chair to
- settle its position. In the midst of the operation, in walked Uncle Roger.
- “Hollo! Geoffrey, what are you up to now? So, ma’am, you are making
- yourself smart to-day. Where is my father?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has ridden over to see the South Farm,” said Mrs. Langford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oho! got out of the way of the beautifying,—I understand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you seen anything of Fred and Busy Bee?” asked Mrs. Frederick
- Langford. “They went out directly after breakfast to walk to Sutton Leigh,
- and I have not seen them since.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes,” said Mr. Roger Langford, “I can tell you what has become of them;
- they are gone to Allonfield. I have just seen them off in the gig, and
- Will with them, after some of their acting affairs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Good, easy man; he little thought what a thunder-clap was this
- intelligence. Uncle Geoffrey turned round on his elevation to look him
- full in the face; every shade of colour left the countenance of Mrs.
- Frederick Langford; Henrietta let her work fall, and looked up in dismay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t mean that Fred was driving?” said her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I do! Why my boys can drive long before they are that age,—surely
- he knows how!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Roger, what have you done!” said she faintly, as if the exclamation
- would break from her in spite of herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed, mamma,” said Henrietta, alarmed at her paleness, “I assure you
- Fred has often told me how he has driven our own horses when he was
- sitting up by Dawson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, ay, Mary,” said Uncle Roger, “never fear. Depend upon it, boys do
- many and many a thing that mammas never guess at, and come out with whole
- bones after all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta, meantime, was attentively watching Uncle Geoffrey’s face, in
- hopes of discovering what he thought of the danger; but she could learn
- nothing, for he kept his features as composed as possible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do believe those children are gone crazy about their acting,” said Mrs.
- Langford; “and how Mr. Langford can encourage them in it I cannot think.
- So silly of Bee to go off in this way, when she might just as well have
- sent by Martin!” And her head being pretty much engrossed with her present
- occupation, she went out to obey a summons from the kitchen, without much
- perception of the consternation that prevailed in the drawing-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you know they were going, Henrietta?” asked Uncle Geoffrey, rather
- sternly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No! I thought they meant to sent Alex. But O! uncle, do you think there
- is any danger?” exclaimed she, losing self-control in the infection of
- fear caught from the mute terror which she saw her mother struggling to
- overcome. Her mother’s inquiring, imploring glance followed her question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Foolish children!” said Uncle Geoffrey, “I am very much vexed with the
- Bee for her wilfulness about this scheme, but as for the rest, there is
- hardly a steadier animal than old Dumple, and he is pretty well used to
- young hands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta thought him quite satisfied, and even her mother was in some
- degrees tranquillized, and would have been more so, had not Mr. Roger
- Langford begun to reason with her in the following style:—“Come,
- Mary, you need not be in the least alarmed. It is quite nonsense in you.
- You know a boy of any spirit will always be doing things that sound
- imprudent. I would not give a farthing for Fred if he was always to be the
- mamma’s boy you would make him. He is come to an age now when you cannot
- keep him up in that way, and he must get knocked about some time or
- other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, I know I am very foolish,” said she, trying to smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall send up Elizabeth to talk to you,” said Uncle Roger. “She would
- have a pretty life of it if she went into such a state as you do on all
- such occasions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Enough to break the heart of ten horses, as they say in Ireland,” said
- Uncle Geoffrey, seeing that the best chance for her was to appear at his
- ease, and divert his brother’s attention. “And by the by, Roger, you never
- told me if you heard any more of your poor Irish haymakers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, Geoffrey, you have an absent fit now for once in your life,” said
- his brother. “Are you the man to ask if I heard any more of them, when you
- yourself gave me a sovereign to send them in the famine?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey, however, persevered, and finally succeeded in starting
- Uncle Roger upon his favourite and inexhaustible subject of the doings at
- the Allonfield Union. During this time Mrs. Frederick Langford put a few
- stitches into her work, found it would not do, and paused, stood up,
- seemed to be observing the new arrangement in the room,—then took a
- long look out at the window, and at last left the room. Henrietta ran
- after her to assure her that she was convinced that Uncle Geoffrey was not
- alarmed, and to beg her to set her mind at rest. “Thank you, my dear,”
- said she. “I—no, really—you know how foolish I am, my dear,
- and I think I had rather be alone. Don’t stay here and frighten yourself
- too; this is only my usual fright, and it will be better if I am left
- alone. Go down, my dear, think about something else, and let me know when
- they come home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With considerable reluctance Henrietta was obliged to obey, and descended
- to the drawing-room, where the first words that met her ears were from
- Uncle Roger. “Well, I wish, with all my heart, they were safe at home
- again. But do you mean to say, Geoffrey, that I ought not to have let them
- go?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall certainly come upon you for damages, if he breaks the neck of
- little Bee,” said Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I had guessed it,” said Uncle Roger; “but then, you know, any of my
- boys would think nothing of driving Dumple,—even Dick I have
- trusted,—and they came up—you should have seen them—as
- confidently as if he had been driving four-in-hand every day of his life.
- Upon my word your daughter has a tolerable spirit of her own, if she knew
- that he could not drive.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A tolerable spirit of self-will,” said Uncle Geoffrey, with a sigh. “But
- did you see them off, how did they manage?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! why there, I must confess, I was to blame,” said his brother. “They
- did clear out of the yard in a strange fashion, certainly, and I might
- have questioned a little closer. But never mind, ‘tis all straight road. I
- would lay any wager they will come back safe,—boys always do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey smiled, but Henrietta thought it a very bad sign that he,
- too, looked out at the window; and the confidence founded on his
- tranquillity deserted her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Roger forthwith returned to the fighting o’er again of his battles
- at the Board of Guardians, and Henrietta was able to get to the window,
- where for some ten minutes she sat, and at length exclaimed with a start,
- “Here is Willy running across the paddock!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right!” said Uncle Roger, “they must have stopped at Sutton Leigh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is the opposite way!” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who at the same
- moment stepped up to the window. Henrietta’s heart throbbed fearfully as
- she saw how wearied was the boy’s running, and yet how rapid. She could
- hardly stand as she followed her uncles to the hall; her mother at the
- same moment came downstairs, and all together met the little boy, as,
- breathless, exhausted, unable to speak, he rushed into the hall, and threw
- himself upon his father, leaning his head against him and clinging as if
- he could not stand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why Will, how now, my boy? Have you been racing?” said his father,
- kneeling on one knee, and supporting the poor little wearied fellow, as he
- almost lay upon his breast and shoulder. “What is the matter now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a deep silence only interrupted by the deep pantings of the boy.
- Henrietta leant on the banisters, giddy with suspense. Uncle Geoffrey
- stepped into the dining-room, and brought back a glass of wine and some
- water. Aunt Mary parted the damp hair that hung over his forehead, laid
- her cold hand on it, and said, “Poor little fellow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At her voice Willy looked up, clung faster to his father, and whispered
- something unintelligible.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What? Has anything happened? What is the matter?” were questions
- anxiously asked, while Uncle Geoffrey in silence succeeded in
- administering the wine; after which Willy managed to say, pointing to his
- aunt,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t—tell—her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was with a sort of ghastly composure that she leant over him, saying,
- “Don’t be afraid, my dear, I am ready to hear it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He raised himself, and gazed at her in perplexity and wonder. Henrietta’s
- violently throbbing heart took from her almost the perception of what was
- happening.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take breath, Willy,” said his father; “don’t keep us all anxious.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bee said I was to tell Uncle Geoffrey,” said the boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is she safe?” asked Aunt Mary, earnestly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks to God,” said she, holding out her hand to Uncle Geoffrey, with a
- look of relief and congratulation, and yet of inexpressible mournfulness
- which went to his heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Fred?” said Uncle Roger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not ask, Roger,” said she, still as calmly as before; “I always knew
- how it would be.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta tried to exclaim, to inquire, but her lips would not frame one
- word, her tongue would not leave the roof of her mouth. She heard a few
- confused sounds, and then a mist came over her eyes, a rushing of waters
- in her ears, and she sank on the ground in a fainting fit. When she came
- to herself she was lying on the sofa in the drawing-room, and all was
- still.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma!” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, dear child,”—but it was Mrs. Langford’s voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma!” again said she. “Where is mamma? Where are they all? Why does the
- room turn round?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have not been well, my dear,” said her grandmother; “but drink this,
- and lie still, you will soon be better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is mamma?” repeated Henrietta, gazing round and seeing no one but
- Mrs. Langford and Bennet. “Was she frightened at my being ill? Tell her I
- am better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She knows it, my dear: lie still and try to go to sleep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But weren’t there a great many people?” said Henrietta. “Were we not in
- the hall? Did not Willy come? O! grandmamma, grandmamma, do tell me, where
- are mamma and Fred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They will soon be here, I hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, grandmamma,” cried she vehemently, turning herself round as clearer
- recollection returned, “something has happened—O! what has happened
- to Fred?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing very serious, we hope, my dear,” said Mrs. Langford. “It was
- Willy who frightened you. Fred has had a fall, and your mamma and uncles
- are gone to see about him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A fall! O, tell me, tell me! I am sure it is something dreadful! O, tell
- me all about it, grandmamma, is he much hurt? O, Freddy, Freddy!”
- </p>
- <p>
- With more quietness than could have been anticipated from so active and
- bustling a nature, Mrs. Langford gradually told her granddaughter all that
- she knew, which was but little, as she had been in attendance on her, and
- had only heard the main fact of Willy’s story. Henrietta clapped her hands
- wildly together in an agony of grief. “He is killed—he is, I’m sure
- of it!” said she. “Why do you not tell me so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear, I trust and believe that he is only stunned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, no! papa was killed in that way, and I am sure he is! O, Fred,
- Fred, my own dear, dear brother, my only one! O, I cannot bear it! O,
- Fred!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She rose up from the sofa, and walked and down the room in an ecstasy of
- sorrow. “And it was I that helped to bring him here! It was my doing! O,
- my own, my dearest, my twin brother, I cannot live without him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta,” said Mrs. Langford, “you do not know what you are saying; you
- must bear the will of God, be it what it may.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can’t, I can not,” repeated Henrietta; “if I am to lose him, I can’t
- live; I don’t care for anything without Fred!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your mother, Henrietta.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma! O, don’t speak of her; she would die, I am sure she would, without
- him; and then I should too, for I should have nothing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta’s grief was the more ungovernable that it was chiefly selfish;
- there was little thought of her mother,—little, indeed, for anything
- but the personal loss to herself. She hid her face in her hands, and
- sobbed violently, though without a tear, while Mrs. Langford vainly tried
- to make her hear of patience and resignation, turning away, and saying, “I
- can’t be patient—no, I can’t!” and then again repeating her
- brother’s name with all the fondest terms of endearment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came a sudden change: it was possible that he yet lived—and she
- became certain that he had been only stunned for a moment, and required
- her grandmamma to be so too. Mrs. Langford, at the risk of a cruel
- disappointment, was willing to encourage her hope; but Henrietta, fancying
- herself treated like a petted child, chose to insist on being told really
- and exactly what was her view of the case. Then she was urgent to go out
- and meet the others, and learn the truth; but this Mrs. Langford would not
- permit. It was in kindness, to spare her some fearful sight, which might
- shock and startle her, but Henrietta was far from taking it so; her
- habitual want of submission made itself felt in spite of her usual
- gentleness, now that she had been thrown off her balance, and she burst
- into a passionate fit of weeping.
- </p>
- <p>
- In such a dreadful interval of suspense, her conduct was, perhaps,
- scarcely under her own control; and it is scarcely just to mention it as a
- subject of blame. But, be it remembered that it was the effect of a long
- previous selfishness and self-will; quiet, amiable selfishness; gentle,
- caressing self-will; but no less real, and more perilous and deceitful.
- But for this, Henrietta would have thought more of her mother, prepared
- for her comfort, and braced herself in order to be a support to her; she
- would have remembered how terrible must be the shock to her grandmother in
- her old age, and how painful must be the remembrances thus excited of the
- former bereavement; and in the attempt to console her, the sense of her
- own sorrow would have been in some degree relieved; whereas she now seemed
- to forget that Frederick was anything to any one but herself. She prayed,
- but it was one wild repetition of “O, give him back to me!—save his
- life!—let him be safe and well!” She had no room for any other
- entreaty; she did not call for strength and resignation on the part of
- herself and her mother, for whatever might be appointed; she did not pray
- that his life might be granted only if it was for his good; she could ask
- nothing but that her own beloved brother might be spared to herself, and
- she ended her prayer as unsubdued, and therefore as miserable, as when she
- began it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first intelligence that arrived was brought by Uncle Roger and
- Beatrice, who, rather to their surprise, came back in the gig, and greatly
- relieved their minds with the intelligence of Frederick’s life, and of
- Philip Carey’s arrival. Henrietta had sprung eagerly up on their first
- entrance, with parted lips and earnest eyes, and listened to their
- narration with trembling throbbing hope, but with scarcely a word; and
- when she heard that Fred still lay senseless and motionless, she again
- turned away, and hid her face on the arm of the sofa, without one look at
- Beatrice, reckless of the pang that shot through the heart of one flesh
- from that trying watch over her brother. Beatrice hoped for one word, one
- kiss, and looked wistfully at the long veil of half uncurled ringlets that
- floated over the crossed arms on which her forehead rested, and meantime
- submitted with a kind of patient indifference to her grandmother’s caress,
- drank hot wine and water, sat by the fire, and finally was sent upstairs
- to change her dress. Too restless, too anxious, too wretched to stay there
- alone, longing for some interchange of sympathy,—but her mind too
- turbid with agitation to seek it where it would most surely have been
- found,—she hastened down again. Grandmamma was busied in giving
- directions for the room which was being prepared for Fred; Uncle Roger had
- walked out to meet those who were conveying him home: and Henrietta was
- sitting in the window, her forehead resting against the glass, watching
- intently for their arrival.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are they coming?” asked Beatrice anxiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No!” was all the answer, hardly uttered, and without looking round, as if
- her cousin’s entrance was perfectly indifferent to her. Beatrice went up
- and stood by her, looking out for a few minutes; then taking the hand that
- lay in her lap, she said in an imploring whisper, “Henrietta, you forgive
- me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The hand lay limp and lifeless in hers, and Henrietta scarcely raised her
- face as she answered, in a low, languid, dejected voice, “Of course, Bee,
- only I am so wretched. Don’t talk to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her head sunk again, and Beatrice stepped hastily back to the fire, with a
- more bitter feeling than she had ever known. This was no forgiveness; it
- was worse than anger or reproach; it was a repulse, and that when her
- whole heart was yearning to relieve the pent-up oppression that almost
- choked her, by weeping with her. She leant her burning forehead on the
- cool marble chimney-piece, and longed for her mother,—longed for her
- almost as much for her papa’s, her Aunt Mary’s and her grandmother’s sake,
- as for her own. But O! what an infinite relief would one talk with her
- have been! She turned toward the table, and thought of writing to her, but
- her hand was trembling—every pulse throbbing; she could not even sit
- still enough to make the attempt.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last she saw Henrietta spring to her feet, and hastening to the window
- beheld the melancholy procession; Fred carried on a mattress by Uncle
- Geoffrey and three of the labourers; Philip Carey walking at one side, and
- on the other Mrs. Frederick Langford leaning on Uncle Roger’s arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- Both girls hurried out to meet them, but all attention was at that moment
- for the patient, as he was carried in on his mattress, and deposited for a
- few minutes on the large hall table. Henrietta pushed between her uncles,
- and made her way up to him, unconscious of the presence of anyone else—even
- of her mother—while she clasped his hand, and hanging over him
- looked with an agonized intensity at his motionless features. The next
- moment she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder, and was forced to turn
- round and look into her face: the sweet mournful meekness of which came
- for a moment like a soft cooling breeze upon the dry burning desert of her
- grief.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My poor child,” said the gentle voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, mamma, is—is—.” She could not speak; her face was
- violently agitated, and the very muscles of her throat quivered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They hope for the best, my dear,” was the reply; but both Mr. Geoffrey
- Langford and Beatrice distinguished her own hopelessness in the
- intonation, and the very form of the expression: whereas Henrietta only
- took in and eagerly seized the idea of comfort which it was intended to
- convey to her. She would have inquired more, but Mrs. Langford was telling
- her mother of the arrangements she had made, and entreating her to take
- some rest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, ma’am,—thank you very much indeed—you are very
- kind: I am very sorry to give you so much trouble,” were her answers; and
- simple as were the words, there was a whole world of truth and reality in
- them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Preparations were now made for carrying Fred up stairs, but even at that
- moment Aunt Mary was not without thought for Beatrice, who was retreating,
- as if she feared to be as much in her way as she had been in Henrietta’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not see you, before, Queenie,” she said, holding out her hand and
- kissing her, “you have gone through more than any one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A thrill of fond grateful affection brought the tears into Queen Bee’s
- eyes. How much there was even in the pronunciation of that pet playful
- name to touch her heart, and fill it to overflowing with love and
- contrition. She longed to pour out her whole confession, but there was no
- one to attend to her—the patient occupied the whole attention of
- all. He was carried to his mother’s room, placed in bed, and again
- examined by young Mr. Carey, who pronounced with increased confidence that
- there was no fracture, and gave considerable hopes of improvement. While
- this was passing, Henrietta sat on the upper step of the stairs, her head
- on her hands, scarcely moving or answering when addressed. As evening
- twilight began to close in, the surgeon left the room, and went down to
- make his report to those who were anxiously awaiting it in the
- drawing-room; and she took advantage of his exit to come to the door, and
- beg to be let in.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey admitted her; and her mother, who was sitting by the
- bed-side, held out her hand. Henrietta came up to her, and at first stood
- by her, intently watching her brother; then after a time sat down on a
- footstool, and, with her head resting on her mother’s lap, gave herself up
- to a sort of quiet heavy dream, which might be called the very luxury of
- grief. Uncle Geoffrey sat by the fire, watching his sister-in-law even
- more anxiously than the patient, and thus a considerable interval passed
- in complete silence, only broken by the crackling of the fire, the ticking
- of the watches, or some slight change of posture of one or other of the
- three nurses. At last the stillness was interrupted by a little movement
- among the bedclothes, and with a feeling like transport, Henrietta saw the
- hand, which had hitherto lain so still and helpless, stretched somewhat
- out, and the head turned upon the pillow. Uncle Geoffrey stood up, and
- Mrs. Frederick Langford pressed her daughter’s hand with a sort of
- convulsive tremor. A faint voice murmured “Mamma!” and while a flush of
- trembling joy illumined her pale face, she bent over him, answering him
- eagerly and fondly, but he did not seem to know her, and again repeating
- “Mamma,” opened his eyes with a vacant gaze, and tried in vain to express
- some complaint.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a short time, however, he regained a partial degree of consciousness.
- He knew his mother, and was continually calling to her, as if for the sake
- of feeling her presence, but without recognizing any other person, not
- even his sister or his uncle. Henrietta stood gazing sadly upon him, while
- his mother hung over him soothing his restlessness, and answering his
- half-uttered complaints, and Uncle Geoffrey was ever ready with assistance
- and comfort to each in turn, as it was needed, and especially supporting
- his sister-in-law with that sense of protection and reliance so precious
- to a sinking heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Roger came up to announce that dinner was ready, and to beg that she
- might stay with Fred while the rest went down. Mrs. Frederick Langford
- only shook her head, and thanked her, saying with a painful smile that it
- was impossible, but begging Uncle Geoffrey and Henrietta to go. The former
- complied, knowing how much alarm his absence would create downstairs; but
- Henrietta declared that she could not bear the thoughts of going down, and
- it was only by a positive order that he succeeded in making her come with
- him. Grandpapa kissed her, and made her sit by him, and grandmamma loaded
- her plate with all that was best on the table, but she looked at it with
- disgust, and leaning back in her chair, faintly begged not to be asked to
- eat.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey poured out a glass of wine, and said in a tone which
- startled her by its unwonted severity, “This will not do, Henrietta; I
- cannot allow you to add to your mamma’s troubles by making yourself ill. I
- desire you will eat, as you certainly can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Every one was taken by surprise, and perhaps Mrs. Langford might have
- interfered, but for a sign from grandpapa. Henrietta, with a feeling of
- being cruelly treated, silently obeyed, swallowed down the wine, and
- having done so, found herself capable of making a very tolerable dinner,
- by which she was greatly relieved and refreshed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey said a few cheering words to his father and mother, and
- returned to Fred’s room as soon as he could, without giving that
- appearance of hurry and anxiety which would have increased their alarm.
- Henrietta, without the same thoughtfulness, rushed rather than ran after
- him, and neither of the two came down again to tea.
- </p>
- <p>
- Philip Carey was to stay all night, and though Beatrice was of course very
- glad that he should do so, yet she was much harassed by the conversation
- kept up with him for civility’s sake. She had been leading a forlorn
- dreary life all the afternoon, busy first in helping grandmamma to write
- notes to be sent to the intended guests, and afterwards, with a feeling of
- intense disgust, putting out of sight all the preparations for their own
- self-chosen sport. She desired quiet, and yet when she found it, it was
- unendurable, and to talk to her father or grandfather would be a great
- relief, yet the first beginning might well be dreaded. Neither of them was
- forthcoming, and now in the evening to hear the quiet grave discussion of
- Allonfield gossip was excessively harassing and irritating. No one spoke
- for their own pleasure, the thoughts of all were elsewhere, and they only
- talked thus for the sake of politeness; but she gave them no credit for
- this, and felt fretted and wearied beyond bearing. Even this, however, was
- better than when they did return to the engrossing thought, and spoke of
- the accident, requiring of her a more exact and particular account of it.
- She hurried over it. Grandmamma praised her, and each word was a sting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, my dear,” said Mrs. Roger Langford, “what could have made you so
- anxious to go to Allonfield?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Aunt Roger, it was very—” but here Beatrice, whose agitated
- spirits made her particularly accessible to momentary emotion, was seized
- with such a sense of the absurdity of undertaking so foolish an
- expedition, with no other purpose than going to buy a pair of ass’s ears,
- that she was overpowered by a violent fit of laughing. Grandmamma and Aunt
- Roger, after looking at her in amazement for a moment, both started up,
- and came towards her with looks of alarm that set her off again still more
- uncontrollably. She struggled to speak, but that only made it worse, and
- when she perceived that she was supposed to be hysterical, she laughed the
- more, though the laughter was positive pain. Once she for a moment
- succeeded in recovering some degree of composure, but every kind
- demonstration of solicitude brought on a fresh access of laughter, and a
- certain whispering threat of calling Philip Carey was worse than all.
- When, however, Aunt Roger was actually setting off for the purpose, the
- dread of his coming had a salutary effect, and enabled her to make a
- violent effort, by which she composed herself, and at length sat quite
- still, except for the trembling, which she could not control.
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandmamma and Aunt Roger united in ordering her to bed, but she could not
- bear to go without seeing her papa, nor would she accept Mrs. Langford’s
- offer of calling him; and at last a compromise was made that she should go
- up to bed on condition that her papa should come and visit her when he
- came out of Fred’s room. Her grandmamma came up with her, helped her to
- undress, gave her the unwonted indulgence of a fire, and summoned Judith
- to prepare things as quickly and quietly as possible for Henrietta, who
- was to sleep with her that night. It was with much difficulty that she
- could avoid making a promise to go to bed immediately, and not to get up
- to breakfast. At last, with a very affectionate kiss, grandmamma left her
- to brush her hair, an operation which she resolved to lengthen out until
- her papa’s visit.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was long before he came, but at last his step was heard along the
- passage, his knock was at her door. She flew to it, and stood before him,
- her large black eyes looking larger, brighter, blacker than usual from the
- contrast with the pale or rather sallow face, and the white nightcap and
- dressing-gown.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How is Fred?” asked she as well as her parched tongue would allow her to
- speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much the same, only talking a little more. But why are you up still? Your
- grandmamma said—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind, papa,” interrupted she, “only tell me this—is Fred in
- danger?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have heard all we can tell, my dear—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice interrupted him by an impatient, despairing look, and clasped her
- hands: “I know—I know; but what do you think?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My own impression is,” said her father, in a calm, kind, yet almost
- reproving tone, as if to warn her to repress her agitation, “that there is
- no reason to give up hope, although it is impossible yet to ascertain the
- extent of the injury.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice retreated a step or two: she stood by the table, one hand upon
- it, as if for support, yet her figure quite erect, her eyes fixed on his
- face, and her voice firm, though husky, as she said, slowly and quietly,
- “Papa, if Fred dies, it is my doing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His face did not express surprise or horror—nothing but kindness and
- compassion, while he answered, “My poor girl, I was afraid how it might
- have been.” Then he led her to a chair and sat down by her side, so as to
- let her perceive that he was ready to listen, and would give her time. He
- might be in haste, but it was no time to show it.
- </p>
- <p>
- She now spoke with more hurry and agitation, “Yes, yes, papa, it was the
- very thing you warned me against—I mean—I mean—the being
- set in my own way, and liking to tease the boys. O if I could but speak to
- tell you all, but it seems like a weight here choking me,” and she touched
- her throat. “I can’t get it out in words! O!” Poor Beatrice even groaned
- aloud with oppression.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not try to express it,” said her father: “at least, it is not I who
- can give you the best comfort. Here”—and he took up a Prayer Book.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I feel as if I could turn there now I have told you, papa,” said
- Beatrice; “but when I could not get at you, everything seemed dried up in
- me. Not one prayer or confession would come;—but now, O! now you
- know it, and—and—I feel as if He would not turn away His face.
- Do you know I did try the 51st Psalm, but it would not do, not even
- ‘deliver me from blood-guiltiness,’ it would only make me shudder! O,
- papa, it was dreadful!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her father’s answer was to draw her down on her knees by his side, and
- read a few verses of that very Psalm, and a few clauses of the prayer for
- persons troubled in mind, and he ended with the Lord’s Prayer. Beatrice,
- when it was over, leant her head against him, and did not speak, nor weep,
- but she seemed refreshed and relieved. He watched her anxiously and
- affectionately, doubting whether it was right to bestow so much time on
- her exclusively, yet unwilling to leave her. When she again spoke, it was
- in a lower, more subdued, and softer voice, “Aunt Mary will forgive me, I
- know; you will tell her, papa, and then it will not be quite so bad! Now I
- can pray that he may be saved—O, papa—disobedient, and I the
- cause; how could I ever bear the thought?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can only pray,” replied her father.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now that I can once more,” said Beatrice; and again there was a silence,
- while she stood thinking deeply, but contrary to her usual habit, not
- speaking, and he knowing well her tendency to lose her repentant feelings
- by expressing them, was not willing to interrupt her. So they remained for
- nearly ten minutes, until at last he thought it time to leave her, and
- made some movement as if to do so. Then she spoke, “Only tell me one
- thing, papa. Do you think Aunt Mary has any hope? There was something—something
- death-like in her face. Does she hope?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford shook his head. “Not yet,” said he. “I think it may
- be better after this first night is over. She is evidently reckoning the
- hours, and I think she has a kind of morbid expectation that it will be as
- it was with his father, who lived twelve hours after his accident.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But surely, surely,” said Beatrice eagerly, “this is a very different
- case; Fred has spoken so much more than my uncle did; and Philip says he
- is convinced that there is no fracture—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a morbid feeling,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “and therefore
- impossible to be reasoned away. I see she dreads to be told to hope, and I
- shall not even attempt it till these fatal twelve hours are over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor dear aunt!” sighed Beatrice. “I am glad, if it was to be, that you
- were here, for nobody else would understand her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Understand her!” said he, with something of a smile. “No, Bee, such
- sorrow as hers has a sacredness in it which is not what can be
- understood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice sighed, and then with a look as if she saw a ray of comfort,
- said, “I suppose mamma will soon be here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think not,” said her father, “I shall tell her she had better wait to
- see how things go on, and keep herself in reserve. At present it is
- needlessly tormenting your aunt to ask her to leave Fred for a moment, and
- I do not think she has even the power to rest. While this goes on, I am of
- more use in attending to him than your mamma could be; but if he is a long
- time recovering, it will be a great advantage to have her coming fresh,
- and not half knocked up with previous attendance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how she will wish to be here!” exclaimed Beatrice, “and how you will
- want her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt of that, Queenie,” said her father smiling, “but we must reserve
- our forces, and I think she will be of the same mind. Well, I must go.
- Where is Henrietta to sleep to-night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “With me,” said Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will send her to you as soon as I can. You must do what you can with
- her, Bee, for I can see that the way she hangs on her mamma is quite
- oppressive. If she had but a little vigour!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know what to do about her!” said Beatrice with more dejection
- than she had yet shown, “I wish I could be of any comfort to her, but I
- can’t—I shall never do good to anybody—only harm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fear the harm, and the good will come,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford. “Good
- night, my dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice threw herself on her knees as soon as the door had closed on her
- father, and so remained for a considerable time in one earnest,
- unexpressed outpouring of confession and prayer, for how long she knew
- not, all that she was sensible of was a feeling of relief, the repose of
- such humility and submission, such heartfelt contrition as she had never
- known before.
- </p>
- <p>
- So she continued till she heard Henrietta’s approaching steps, when she
- rose and opened the door, ready to welcome her with all the affection and
- consolation in her power. There stood Henrietta, a heavy weight on her
- eyes, her hair on one side all uncurled and flattened, the colour on half
- her face much deepened, and a sort of stupor about her whole person, as if
- but one idea possessed her. Beatrice went up to meet her, and took her
- candle, asking what account she brought of the patient. “No better,” was
- all the answer, and she sat down making no more detailed answers to all
- her cousin’s questions. She would have done the same to her grandmamma, or
- any one else, so wrapped up was she in her own grief, but this conduct
- gave more pain to Beatrice than it could have done to any one else, since
- it kept up the last miserable feeling of being unforgiven. Beatrice let
- her sit still for some minutes, looking at her all the time with an almost
- piteous glance of entreaty, of which Henrietta was perfectly unconscious,
- and then began to beg her to undress, seconding the proposal by beginning
- to unfasten her dress.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta moved pettishly, as if provoked at being disturbed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon, dear Henrietta,” said Beatrice; “if you would but let
- me! You will be ill to-morrow, and that would be worse still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I shan’t,” said Henrietta shortly, “never mind me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I must, dear Henrietta. If you would but—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can’t go to bed,” replied Henrietta, “thank you, Bee, never mind—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice stood still, much distressed at her own inability to be of any
- service, and pained far more by the sight of Henrietta’s grief than by the
- unkind rejection of herself. “Papa thinks there is great hope,” said she
- abruptly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma does not,” said Henrietta, edging away from her cousin as if to put
- an end to the subject.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice almost wrung her hands. O this wilfulness of grief, how hard it
- was to contend with it! At last there was a knock at the door—it was
- grandmamma, suspecting that they were still up. Little recked Beatrice of
- the scolding that fell on herself for not having been in bed hours ago;
- she was only rejoiced at the determination that swept away all Henrietta’s
- feeble opposition. The bell was rung, Bennet was summoned, grandmamma
- peremptorily ordered her to be undressed, and in another half-hour the
- cousins were lying side by side, Henrietta’s lethargy had become a heavy
- sleep, Beatrice was broad awake, listening to every sound, forming every
- possible speculation on the future, and to her own overstretched fancy
- seeming actually to feel the thoughts chasing each other through her
- throbbing head.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV.
- </h2>
- <p>
- “Half-past one,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, as if it was a mere casual
- observation, though in reality it was the announcement that the fatal
- twelve hours had passed more than half-an-hour since.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no answer, but he heard a slight movement, and though carefully
- avoiding any attempt to penetrate the darkness around the sick bed, he
- knew full well that his sister was on her knees, and when he again heard
- her voice in reply to some rambling speech of her son, it had a tremulous
- tone, very unlike its former settled hopelessness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again, when Philip Carey paid his morning visit, she studied the
- expression of his face with anxious, inquiring, almost hopeful eyes, the
- crushed heart-broken indifference of yesterday had passed away; and when
- the expedience of obtaining further advice was hinted at, she caught at
- the suggestion with great eagerness, though the day before her only answer
- had been, “As you think right.” She spoke so as to show the greatest
- consideration for the feelings of Philip Carey, then with her usual
- confiding spirit, she left the selection of the person to be called in
- entirely to him, to her brother and father-in-law, and returned to her
- station by Frederick, who had already missed and summoned her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Philip, in spite of the small follies which provoked Beatrice’s sarcasm,
- was by no means deficient in good sense or ability; his education had owed
- much to the counsels of Mr. Geoffrey Langford, whom he regarded with great
- reverence, and he was so conscious of his own inexperience and diffident
- of his own opinion, as to be very anxious for assistance in this, the
- first very serious case which had fallen under his own management. The
- proposal had come at first from himself, and this was a cause of great
- rejoicing to those who had to reconcile Mrs. Langford to the measure. In
- her eyes a doctor was a doctor, member of a privileged fraternity in which
- she saw no distinctions, and to send for advice from London would, she
- thought, not only hurt the feelings of Mrs. Roger Langford, and all the
- Carey connection, but seriously injure the reputation of young Mr. Carey
- in his own neighbourhood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandpapa answered, and Beatrice was glad he did so, that such
- considerations were as nothing when weighed in the scale against
- Frederick’s life; she was silenced, but unconvinced, and unhappy till her
- son Geoffrey, coming down late to breakfast, greatly comforted her by
- letting her make him some fresh toast with her own hands, and persuading
- her that it would be greatly in favour of Philip’s practice that his
- opinion should be confirmed by an authority of note.
- </p>
- <p>
- The electric telegraph and the railroad brought the surgeon even before
- she had begun seriously to expect him, and his opinion was completely
- satisfactory as far as regarded Philip Carey and the measures already
- taken; Uncle Geoffrey himself feeling convinced that his approval was
- genuine, and not merely assumed for courtesy’s sake. He gave them, too,
- more confident hope of the patient than Philip, in his diffidence, had
- ventured to do, saying that though there certainly was concussion of the
- brain, he thought there was great probability that the patient would do
- well, provided that they could combat the feverish symptoms which had
- begun to appear. He consulted with Philip Carey, the future treatment was
- agreed upon, and he left them with cheered and renewed spirits to enter on
- a long and anxious course of attendance. Roger, who was obliged to go away
- the next day, cheered up his brother Alex into a certainty that Fred would
- be about again in a week, and though no one but the boys shared the
- belief, yet the assurances of any one so sanguine, inspired them all with
- something like hope.
- </p>
- <p>
- The attendance at first fell almost entirely on Mrs. Frederick Langford
- and Uncle Geoffrey, for the patient, who had now recovered a considerable
- degree of consciousness, would endure no one else. If his mother’s voice
- did not answer him the first moment, he instantly grew restless and
- uneasy, and the plaintive inquiry, “Is Uncle Geoffrey here?” was many
- times repeated. He would recognise Henrietta, but his usual answer to her
- was “You speak so loud;” though in reality, her tone was almost exactly
- the same as her mother’s; and above all others he disliked the presence of
- Philip Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is that?” inquired he, the first time that he was at all conscious of
- the visits of other people: and when his mother explained, he asked
- quickly, “Is he gone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day, Fred was alive to all that was going on, but suffering
- considerable pain, and with every sense quickened to the most acute and
- distressing degree, his eyes dazzled by light which, as he declared,
- glanced upon the picture frames in a room where his mother and uncle could
- scarcely see to find their way, and his ears pierced, as it were, by the
- slightest sound in the silent house, sleepless with pain, incapable of
- thought, excessively irritable in temper, and his faculties, as it seemed,
- restored only to be the means of suffering. Mrs. Langford came to the door
- to announce that Philip Carey was come. Mr. Geoffrey Langford went to
- speak to him, and grandmamma and Henrietta began to arrange the room a
- little for his reception. Fred, however, soon stopped this. “I can’t bear
- the shaking,” said he. “Tell them to leave off, mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandmamma, unconscious of the pain she was inflicting, and believing that
- she made not the slightest noise, continued to put the chairs in order,
- but Fred gave an impatient, melancholy sort of groan and exclamation, and
- Mrs. Langford remarked, “Well, if he cannot bear it, it cannot be helped;
- but it is quite dangerous in this dark room!” And out she went, Fred
- frowning with pain at every step she took.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why do you let people come?” asked he sharply of his mother. “Where is
- Uncle Geoffrey gone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is speaking with Mr. Philip Carey, my dear, he will be here with him
- directly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t want Philip Carey; don’t let him come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear boy, he must come; he has not seen you to-day, perhaps he may do
- something for this sad pain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred turned away impatiently, and at the same moment Uncle Geoffrey opened
- the door to ask if Fred was ready.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford: and Philip entered. But Fred would
- not turn towards him till desired to do so, nor give his hand readily for
- his pulse to be felt. Philip thought it necessary to see his face a little
- more distinctly, and begged his pardon for having the window shutters
- partly opened; but Fred contrived completely to frustrate his intention,
- as with an exclamation which had in it as much of anger as of pain, he
- turned his face inwards to the pillow, and drew the bed-clothes over it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear boy,” said his mother, pleadingly, “for one moment only!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told you I could not bear the light,” was all the reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you would but oblige me for a few seconds,” said Philip.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fred!” said his uncle gravely; and Fred made a slight demonstration as if
- to obey, but at the first glimpse of the dim light, he hid his face again,
- saying, “I can’t;” and Philip gave up the attempt, closed the shutter,
- unfortunately not quite as noiselessly as Uncle Geoffrey had opened it,
- and proceeded to ask sundry questions; to which the patient scarcely
- vouchsafed a short and pettish reply. When at last he quitted the room,
- and was followed by Mrs. Frederick Langford, a “Don’t go, mamma,” was
- immediately heard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must spare me for a very little while, my dear,” said she, gently but
- steadily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t stay long, then,” replied he.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey came up to his bedside, and with a touch soft and light as
- a woman’s, arranged the coverings disturbed by his restlessness, and for a
- few moments succeeded in tranquillizing him, but almost immediately he
- renewed his entreaties that his mother would return, and had it been any
- other than his uncle who had taken her place, would have grumbled at his
- not going to call her. On her return, she was greeted with a discontented
- murmur. “What an immense time you have stayed away!”—presently
- after, “I wish you would not have that Carey!” and then, “I wish we were
- at Rocksand,—I wish Mr. Clarke were here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Patience in illness is a quality so frequently described in books as well
- as actually found in real life, that we are apt to believe that it comes
- as a matter of course, and without previous training, particularly in the
- young, and that peevishness is especially reserved for the old and
- querulous, who are to try the amiability of the heroine. To a certain
- degree, this is often the case; the complete prostration of strength, and
- the dim awe of approaching death in the acute illnesses of the young,
- often tame down the stubborn or petulant temper, and their patience and
- forbearance become the wonder and admiration of those who have seen germs
- of far other dispositions. And when this is not the case, who would have
- the heart to complain? Certainly not those who are like the mother and
- uncle who had most to endure from the exacting humours of Frederick
- Langford. High spirits, excellent health, a certain degree of gentleness
- of character, and a home where, though he was not over indulged, there was
- little to ruffle him, all had hitherto combined to make him appear one of
- the most amiable good-tempered boys that ever existed; but there was no
- substance in this apparent good quality, it was founded on no real
- principle of obedience or submission, and when to an habitual spirit of
- determination to have his own way, was superadded the irritability of
- nerves which was a part of his illness, when his powers of reflection were
- too much weakened to endure or comprehend argument; when, in fact, nothing
- was left to fall back upon but the simple obedience which would have been
- required in a child, and when that obedience was wanting, what could
- result but increased discomfort to himself and all concerned? Yes, even as
- we should lay up a store of prayers against that time when we shall be
- unable to pray for ourselves, so surely should we lay up a store of habits
- against the time when we may be unable to think or reason for ourselves!
- How often have lives been saved by the mere instinct of unquestioning
- instantaneous obedience!
- </p>
- <p>
- Had Frederick possessed that instinct, how much present suffering and
- future wretchedness might have been spared him! His ideas were as yet too
- disconnected for him to understand or bear in mind that he was subjecting
- his mother to excessive fatigue, but the habit of submission would have
- led him to bear her absence patiently, instead of perpetually interrupting
- even the short repose which she would now and then be persuaded to seek on
- the sofa. He would have spared her his perpetual, harassing complaints,
- not so much of the pain he suffered, as of every thing and every person
- who approached him, his Uncle Geoffrey being the only person against whom
- he never murmured. Nor would he have rebelled against measures to which he
- was obliged to submit in the end, after he had distressed every one and
- exhausted himself by his fruitless opposition.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was marvellous that the only two persons whose attendance he would
- endure could bear up under the fatigue. Even Uncle Geoffrey, one of those
- spare wiry men, who, without much appearance of strength are nevertheless
- capable of such continued exertion, was beginning to look worn and almost
- aged, and yet Mrs. Frederick Langford was still indefatigable, unconscious
- of weariness, quietly active, absorbed in the thought of her son, and yet
- not so absorbed as not to be full of consideration for all around. All
- looked forward with apprehension to the time when the consequences of such
- continued exertion must be felt, but in the meantime it was not in the
- power of any one except her brother Geoffrey to be of any assistance to
- her, and her relations could only wait and watch with such patience as
- they could command, for the period when their services might be effectual.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford was the most visibly impatient. The hasty bustling of her
- very quietest steps gave such torture to Frederick, as to excuse the
- upbraiding eyes which he turned on his poor perplexed mother whenever she
- entered the room; and her fresh arrangements and orders always created a
- disturbance, which created such positive injury, that it was the aim of
- the whole family to prevent her visits there. This was, as may be
- supposed, no easy task. Grandpapa’s “You had better not, my dear,” checked
- her for a little while, but was far from satisfying her: Uncle Geoffrey,
- who might have had the best chance, had not time to spare for her; and no
- one could persuade her how impossible, nay, how dangerous it was to
- attempt to reason with the patient: so she blamed the whole household for
- indulging his fancies, and half a dozen times a day pronounced that he
- would be the death of his mother. Beatrice did the best she could to
- tranquillise her; but two spirits so apt to clash did not accord
- particularly well even now, though Busy Bee was too much depressed to
- queen it as usual. To feel herself completely useless in the midst of the
- suffering she had occasioned was a severe trial; and above all, poor
- child, she longed for her mother, and the repose of confession and
- parental sympathy. She saw her father only at meal times; she was anxious
- and uneasy at his worn looks, and even he could not be all that her mother
- was. Grandpapa was kind as ever, but the fault that sat so heavy on her
- mind was not one for discussion with any one but a mother, and this
- consciousness was the cause of a little reserve with him, such as had
- never before existed between them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Alexander was more of a comfort to her than any one else, and that chiefly
- because he wanted her to be a comfort to him. All the strong affection and
- esteem which he really entertained for Frederick was now manifested, and
- the remembrance of old rivalries and petty contentions served but to make
- the reaction stronger. He kept aloof from his brothers, and spent every
- moment he could at the Hall, either reading in the library, or walking up
- and down the garden paths with Queen Bee. One of the many conversations
- which they held will serve as a specimen of the rest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So they do not think he is much better to-day?” said Alex, walking into
- the library, where Beatrice was sealing some letters.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice shook her head. “Every day that he is not worse is so much
- gained,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is very odd,” meditated Alex: “I suppose the more heads have in them,
- the easier it is to knock them!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice smiled. “Thick skulls are proverbial, you know, Alex.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I really believe it is right. Look, Bee,” and he examined his own
- face in the glass over the chimney; “there, do you see a little bit of a
- scar under my eyebrow?—there! Well, that was where I was knocked
- over by a cricket-ball last half, pretty much harder than poor Fred could
- have come against the ground,—but what harm did it do me? Why
- everything spun round with me for five minutes or so, and I had a black
- eye enough to have scared you, but I was not a bit the worse otherwise.
- Poor Fred, he was quite frightened for me I believe; for the first thing I
- saw was him, looking all green and yellow, standing over me, and so I got
- up and laughed at him for thinking I could care about it. That was the
- worst of it! I wish I had not been always set against him. I would give
- anything now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but Alex, I don’t understand. You were very good friends at the
- bottom, after all; you can’t have anything really to repent of towards
- him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, haven’t I though?” was the reply. “It was more the other fellows’
- doing than my own, to be sure, and yet, after all, it was worse, knowing
- all about him as I did; but somehow, every one, grandmamma and all of you,
- had been preaching up to me all my life that cousin Fred was to be such a
- friend of mine. And then when he came to school, there he was—a
- fellow with a pink and white face, like a girl’s, and that did not even
- know how to shy a stone, and cried for his mamma! Well, I wish I could
- begin it all over again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But do you mean that he was really a—a—what you call a Miss
- Molly?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who said so? No, not a bit of it!” said Alex. “No one thought so in
- reality, though it was a good joke to put him in a rage, and pretend to
- think that he could not do anything. Why, it took a dozen times more
- spirit for him to be first in everything than for me, who had been knocked
- about all my life. And he was up to anything, Bee, to anything. The
- matches at foot-ball will be good for nothing now; I am sure I shan’t care
- if we do win.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the prize,” said Beatrice, “the scholarship!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no heart to try for it now! I would not, if Uncle Geoffrey had not
- a right to expect it of me. Let me see: if Fred is well by the summer, why
- then—hurrah! Really, Queenie, he might get it all up in no time,
- clever fellow as he is, and be first after all. Don’t you think so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Queen Bee shook her head. “They say he must not read or study for a very
- long time,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but six months—a whole year is an immense time,” said Alex. “O
- yes, he must, Bee! Reading does not cost him half the trouble it does
- other people; and his verses, they never fail—never except when he
- is careless; and the sure way to prevent that is to run him up for time.
- That is right. Why there!” exclaimed Alex joyfully, “I do believe this is
- the very best thing for his success!” Beatrice could not help laughing,
- and Alex immediately sobered down as the remembrance crossed him, that if
- Fred were living a week hence, they would have great reason to be
- thankful.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! they will all of them be sorry enough to hear of this,” proceeded he.
- “There was no one so much thought of by the fellows, or the masters
- either.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The masters, perhaps,” said Beatrice; “but I thought you said there was a
- party against him among the boys?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, nonsense! It was only a set of stupid louts who, just because they
- had pudding-heads themselves, chose to say that I did better without all
- his reading and Italian, and music, and stuff; and I was foolish enough to
- let them go on, though I knew all the time it was nothing but chaff. I
- shall let them all know what fools they were for their pains, as soon as I
- go back. Why, Queenie, you, who only know Fred at home, you have not the
- slightest notion what a fellow he is. I’ll just tell you one story of
- him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Alexander forthwith proceeded to tell not one story alone, but many, to
- illustrate the numerous excellences which he ascribed to Fred, and again
- and again blaming himself for the species of division which had existed
- between them, although the fact was that he had always been the more
- conciliatory of the two. Little did he guess, good, simple-hearted fellow,
- that each word was quite as much, or more, to his credit, as to
- Frederick’s; but Beatrice well appreciated them, and felt proud of him.
- </p>
- <p>
- These talks were her chief comfort, and always served to refresh her, if
- only by giving her the feeling that some one wanted her, and not that the
- only thing she could do for anybody was the sealing of the letters which
- her father, whose eyes were supposed to be acquiring the power of those of
- cats, contrived to write in the darkness of Fred’s room. She thought she
- could have borne everything excepting Henrietta’s coldness, which still
- continued, not from intentional unkindness or unwillingness to forgive,
- but simply because Henrietta was too much absorbed in her own troubles to
- realise to herself the feelings which she wounded. Her uncle Geoffrey had
- succeeded in awakening her consideration for her mother; but with her and
- Fred it began and ended, and when outside the sick room, she seemed not to
- have a thought beyond a speedy return to it. She seldom or never left it,
- except at meal-times, or when her grandfather insisted on her taking a
- walk with him, as he did almost daily. Then he walked between her and
- Beatrice, trying in vain to arouse her to talk, and she, replying as
- shortly as possible when obliged to speak, left her cousin to sustain the
- conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two girls went to church with grandpapa on the feast of the Epiphany,
- and strange it was to them to see again the wreaths which their own hands
- had woven, looking as bright and festal as ever, the glistening leaves
- unfaded, and the coral berries fresh and gay. A tear began to gather in
- Beatrice’s eye, and Henrietta hung her head, as if she could not bear the
- sight of those branches, so lately gathered by her brother. As they were
- leaving the church, both looked towards the altar at the wreath which
- Henrietta had once started to see, bearing a deeper and more awful meaning
- than she had designed. Their eyes met, and they saw that they had the same
- thought in their minds.
- </p>
- <p>
- When they were taking off their bonnets in their own room, Queen Bee
- stretched out a detaining hand, not in her usual commanding manner, but
- with a gesture that was almost timid, saying,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look, Henrietta, one moment, and tell me if you were not thinking of
- this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And hastily opening the Lyra Innocentium, she pointed out the verse—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Such garland grave and fair, His church to-day adorns, And—mark it
- well—e’en there He wears His Crown of Thorns.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Should aught profane draw near, Full many a guardian spear Is set around,
- of power to go Deep in the reckless hand, and stay the grasping foe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They go very deep,” sighed Henrietta, raising her eyes, with a mournful
- complaining glance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice would have said more, but when she recollected her own conduct on
- Christmas Eve, it might well strike her that she was the “thing profane”
- that had then dared to draw near; and it pained her that she had even
- appeared for one moment to accuse her cousin. She was beginning to speak,
- but Henrietta cut her short by saying, “Yes, yes, but I can’t stay,” and
- was flying along the passage the next moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice sighed heavily, and spent the next quarter of an hour in
- recalling, with all the reality of self-reproach, the circumstances of her
- recklessness, vanity and self-will on that day. She knelt and poured out
- her confession, her prayer for forgiveness, and grace to avoid the very
- germs of these sins for the future, before Him Who seeth in secret: and a
- calm energetic spirit of hope, in the midst of true repentance, began to
- dawn on her.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was good for her, but was it not selfish in Henrietta thus to leave her
- alone to bear her burthen? Yes, selfish it was; for Henrietta had heard
- the last report of Frederick since their return, and knew that her
- presence in his room was quite useless; and it was only for the
- gratification of her own feelings that she hurried thither without even
- stopping to recollect that her cousin might also be unhappy, and be
- comforted by talking to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her thought was only the repining one: “the thorns go deep!” Poor child,
- had they yet gone deep enough? The patient may cry out, but the skilful
- surgeon will nevertheless probe on, till he has reached the hidden source
- of the malady.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV.
- </h2>
- <p>
- On a soft hazy day in the beginning of February, the Knight Sutton
- carriage was on the road to Allonfield, and in it sat the Busy Bee and her
- father, both of them speaking far less than was their wont when alone
- together.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford took off his hat, so as to let the moist spring
- breeze play round his temples and in the thin locks where the silvery
- threads had lately grown more perceptible, and gazed upon the dewy grass,
- the tiny woodbine leaf, the silver “pussycats” on the withy, and the
- tasselled catkin of the hazel, with the eyes of a man to whom such sights
- were a refreshment—a sort of holiday—after the many springs
- spent in close courts of law and London smoke; and now after his long
- attendance in a warm dark sick-room. His daughter sat by him, thinking
- deeply, and her heart full of a longing earnestness which seemed as if it
- would not let her speak. She was going to meet her mother, whom she had
- not seen for so long a time; but it was only to be for one evening! Her
- father, finding that his presence was absolutely required in London, and
- no longer actually indispensable at Knight Sutton, had resolved on
- changing places with his wife, and she was to go with him and take her
- mother’s place in attending on Lady Susan St. Leger. They were now going
- to fetch Mrs. Geoffrey Langford home from the Allonfield station, and they
- would have one evening at Knight Sutton with her, returning themselves the
- next morning to Westminster.
- </p>
- <p>
- They arrived at Allonfield, executed various commissions with which Mrs.
- Langford had been delighted to entrust Geoffrey; they ordered some new
- books for Frederick, and called at Philip Carey’s for some medicines; and
- then driving up to the station watched eagerly for the train.
- </p>
- <p>
- Soon it was there, and there at length she was; her own dear self,—the
- dark aquiline face, with its sweetest and brightest of all expressions;
- the small youthful figure, so active, yet so quiet and elegant; the dress
- so plain and simple, yet with that distinguished air. How happy Beatrice
- was that first moment of feeling herself at her side!
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear! my own dear child!” Then anxiously following her husband with
- her eye, as he went to look for her luggage, she said, “How thin he looks,
- Queenie!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, he has been doing so much,” said Busy Bee. “It is only for this last
- week he has gone to bed at all, and then only on the sofa in Fred’s room.
- This is the first time he has been out, except last Sunday to Church, and
- a turn or two round the garden with grandmamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He came back before Queen Bee had done speaking. “Come, Beatrice,” said he
- to his wife, “I am in great haste to have you at home; that fresh face of
- yours will do us all so much good.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One thing is certain,” said she; “I shall send home orders that you shall
- be allowed no strong coffee at night, and that Busy Bee shall hide half
- the mountain of letters in the study. But tell me honestly, Geoffrey, are
- you really well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perfectly, except for a growing disposition to yawn,” said her husband
- laughing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what are the last accounts of the patient?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is doing very well: the last thing I did before coming away, was to
- lay him down on the sofa, with Retzsch’s outlines to look at: so you may
- guess that he is coming on quickly. I suppose you have brought down the
- books and prints?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Such a pile, that I almost expected my goods would be over weight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is very fortunate that he has a taste for this kind of thing: only
- take care, they must not be at Henrietta’s discretion, or his own, or he
- will be overwhelmed with them,—a very little oversets him, and might
- do great mischief.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t think the danger of inflammation over yet, then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, no! his pulse is so very easily raised, that we are obliged to keep
- him very quiet, and nearly to starve him, poor fellow; and his appetite is
- returning so fast, that it makes it very difficult to manage him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should be afraid that now would be the time to see the effects of poor
- Mary’s over gentleness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; but what greatly increases the difficulty is that Fred has some
- strange prejudice against Philip Carey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Busy Bee, who had heard nothing of this, felt her cheeks flush, while her
- father proceeded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not understand it at all: Philip’s manners in a sick room are
- particularly good—much better than I should have expected, and he
- has been very attentive and gentle-handed; but, from the first, Fred has
- shown a dislike to him, questioned all his measures, and made the most of
- it whenever he was obliged to give him any pain. The last time the London
- doctor was here, I am sure he hurt Fred a good deal more than Philip has
- ever done, yet the boy bore it manfully, though he shrinks and exclaims
- the moment Philip touches him. Then he is always talking of wishing for
- old Clarke at Rocksand, and I give Mary infinite credit for never having
- proposed to send for him. I used to think she had great faith in the old
- man, but I believe it was only her mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course it was. It is only when Mary has to act alone that you really
- are obliged to perceive all her excellent sense and firmness; and I am
- very glad that you should be convinced now and then, that in nothing but
- her fears, poor thing, has she anything of the spoiling mamma about her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As if I did not know that,” said he, smiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so she would not yield to this fancy? Very wise indeed. But I should
- like to know the reason of this dislike on Fred’s part. Have you ever
- asked him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; he is not in a fit state for argument; and, besides, I think the
- prejudice would only be strengthened. We have praised Philip again and
- again, before him, and said all we could think of to give him confidence
- in him, but nothing will do; in fact, I suspect Mr. Fred was sharp enough
- to discover that we were talking for a purpose. It has been the great
- trouble this whole time, though neither Mary nor I have mentioned it, for
- fear of annoying my mother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa,” said Busy Bee, “I am afraid I know the reason but too well. It was
- my foolish way of talking about the Careys; I used to tease poor Fred
- about Roger’s having taken him for Philip, and say all sorts of things
- that I did not really mean.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hem!” said her father. “Well, I should think it might be so; it always
- struck me that the prejudice must be grounded upon some absurd notion, the
- memory of which had passed away, while the impression remained.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And do you think I could do anything towards removing it? You know I am
- to go and wish Fred good-bye this afternoon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, yes; you might as well try to say something cheerful, which might do
- away with the impression. Not that I think it will be of any use; only do
- not let him think it has been under discussion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice assented, and was silent again while they went on talking.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aunt Mary has held out wonderfully?” said her mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Too wonderfully,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “in a way which I fear will
- cost her dearly. I have been positively longing to see her give way as she
- ought to have done under the fatigue; and now I am afraid of the old
- complaint: she puts her hand to her side now and then, and I am persuaded
- that she had some of those spasms a night or two ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” said his wife, with great concern, “that is just what I have been
- dreading the whole time. When she consulted Dr. ——, how
- strongly he forbade her to use any kind of exertion. Why would you not let
- me come? I assure you it was all I could do to keep myself from setting
- off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was very well behaved in you, indeed, Beatrice,” said he, smiling; “a
- sacrifice which very few husbands would have had resolution either to make
- themselves, or to ask of their wives. I thanked you greatly when I did not
- see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why would you not have me? Do you not repent it now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not in the least. Fred would let no one come near him but his mother and
- me; you could not have saved either of us an hour’s nursing then, whereas
- now you can keep Fred in order, and take care of Mary, if she will suffer
- it, and that she will do better from you than from any one else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They were now reaching the entrance of Sutton Leigh Lane, and Queen Bee
- was called upon for the full history of the accident, which, often as it
- had been told by letter, must again be narrated in all its branches. Even
- her father had never had time to hear it completely; and there was so much
- to ask and to answer on the merely external circumstances, that they had
- not begun to enter upon feelings and thoughts when they arrived at the
- gate of the paddock, which was held open by Dick and Willy, excessively
- delighted to see Aunt Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few moments more she was affectionately welcomed by old Mrs.
- Langford, whose sentiments with regard to the two Beatrices were of a
- curiously varying and always opposite description. When her
- daughter-in-law was at a distance, she secretly regarded with a kind of
- respectful aversion, both her talents, her learning, and the fashionable
- life to which she had been accustomed; but in her presence the winning,
- lively simplicity of her manners completely dispelled all these prejudices
- in an instant, and she loved her most cordially for her own sake, as well
- as because she was Geoffrey’s wife. On the contrary, the younger Beatrice,
- while absent, was the dear little granddaughter,—the Queen of Bees,
- the cleverest of creatures; and while present, it has already been shown
- how constantly the two tempers fretted each other, or had once done so,
- though now, so careful had Busy Bee lately been, there had been only one
- collision between them for the last ten days, and that was caused by her
- strenuous attempts to convince grandmamma that Fred was not yet fit for
- boiled chicken and calves’ foot jelly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford’s greetings were not half over when Henrietta and her mamma
- hastened down stairs to embrace dear Aunt Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Mary, I am so glad to be come to you at last!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, O! thank you, Beatrice. How Fred will enjoy having you now!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is he tired?” asked Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, not at all; he seems to be very comfortable. He has been talking of
- Queen Bee’s promised visit. Do you like to go up now, my dear?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Queen Bee consented eagerly, though with some trepidation, for she had not
- seen her cousin since his accident, and besides, she did not know how to
- begin about Philip Carey. She ran to take off her bonnet, while Henrietta
- went to announce her coming. She knocked at the door, Henrietta opened it,
- and coming in, she saw Fred lying on the sofa by the fire, in his
- dressing-gown, stretched out in that languid listless manner that betokens
- great feebleness. There were the purple marks of leeches on his temples;
- his hair had been cropped close to his head; his face was long and thin,
- without a shade of colour, but his eyes looked large and bright; and he
- smiled and held out his hand: “Ah, Queenie, how d’ye do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How d’ye do, Fred? I am glad you are better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see I have the asses’ ears after all,” said he, pointing to his own,
- which were very prominent in his shorn and shaven condition.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice could not very easily call up a smile, but she made an effort,
- and succeeded, while she said, “I should have complimented you on the
- increased wisdom of your looks. I did not know the shape of your head was
- so like papa’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is Aunt Geoffrey come?” asked Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said his sister: “but mamma thinks you had better not see her till
- to-morrow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish Uncle Geoffrey was not going,” said Fred. “Nobody else has the
- least notion of making one tolerably comfortable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, your mamma, Fred!” said Queen Bee.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes, mamma, of course! But then she is getting fagged.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma says she is quite unhappy to have kept him so long from his work in
- London,” said Henrietta; “but I do not know what we should have done
- without him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not know what we shall do now,” said Fred, in a languid and doleful
- tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Queen Bee, thinking this a capital opportunity, spoke with almost
- alarmed eagerness, “O yes, Fred, you will get on famously; you will enjoy
- having my mamma so much, and you are so much better already, and Philip
- Carey manages you so well—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Manages!” said Fred; “ay, and I’ll tell you how, Queenie; just as the man
- managed his mare when he fed her on a straw a day. I believe he thinks I
- am a ghool, and can live on a grain of rice. I only wish he knew himself
- what starvation is. Look here! you can almost see the fire through my
- hand, and if I do but lift up my head, the whole room is in a
- merry-go-round. And that is nothing but weakness; there is nothing else on
- earth the matter with me, except that I am starved down to the strength of
- a midge!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but of course he knows,” said Busy Bee; “Papa says he has had an
- excellent education, and he must know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure he does, perfectly well: he is a sharp fellow, and knows how
- to keep a patient when he has got one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How can you talk such nonsense, Fred? One comfort is, that it is a sign
- you are getting well, or you would not have spirits to do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am talking no nonsense,” said Fred, sharply; “I am as serious as
- possible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you can’t really think that if Philip was capable of acting in such
- an atrocious way, that papa would not find it out, and the other doctor
- too?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! when that man gets I don’t know how many guineas from mamma every
- time he comes, do you think that it is for his interest that I should get
- well?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Fred,” interposed his sister, “you are exciting yourself, and
- that is so very bad for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do assure you, Henrietta, you would find it very little exciting to be
- shut up in this room with half a teaspoonful of wishy-washy pudding twice
- a day, and all just to fill Philip Carey’s pockets! Now, there was old
- Clarke at Rocksand, he had some feeling for one, poor old fellow; but this
- man, not the slightest compunction has he; and I am ready to kick him out
- of the room when I hear that silky voice of his trying to be gen-tee-eel,
- and condoling; and those boots—O! Busy Bee! those boots! whenever he
- makes a step I always hear them say, ‘O what a pretty fellow I am!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem to be very merry here, my dears,” said Aunt Mary, coming in;
- “but I am afraid you will tire yourself, Freddy; I heard your voice even
- before I opened the door.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred was silent, a little ashamed, for he had sense enough not absolutely
- to believe all that he had been saying, and his mother, sitting down,
- began to talk to the visitor, “Well, my little Queen, we have seen very
- little of you of late, but we shall be very sorry to lose you. I suppose
- your mamma will have all your letters, and Henrietta must not expect any,
- but we shall want very much to know how you get on with Aunt Susan and her
- little dog.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O very well, I dare say,” said Beatrice, rather absently, for she was
- looking at her aunt’s delicate fragile form, and thinking of what her
- father had been saying.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Queenie,” continued her aunt, earnestly, “you must take great care of
- your papa—make him rest, and listen to your music, and read
- story-books instead of going back to his work all the evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure I shall, Aunt Mary, as much as I possibly can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Bee,” said Fred, “you don’t mean that you are going to be shut up
- with that horrid Lady Susan all this time? Why don’t you stay here, and
- let her take care of herself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma would not like that; and besides, to do her justice, she is really
- ill, Fred,” said Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is too bad, now I am just getting better—if they would let me, I
- mean,” said Fred: “just when I could enjoy having you, and now there you
- go off to that old woman. It is a downright shame.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it is, Fred,” said Queen Bee gaily, but not coquettishly, as once she
- would have answered him, “a great shame in you not to have learned to feel
- for other people, now you know what it is to be ill yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is right, Bee,” said Aunt Mary, smiling; “tell him he ought to be
- ashamed of having monopolized you all so long, and spoilt all the comfort
- of your household. I am sure I am,” added she, her eyes filling with
- tears, as she affectionately patted Beatrice’s hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Queen Bee’s heart was very full, but she knew that to give way to the
- expression of her feelings would be hurtful to Fred, and she only pressed
- her aunt’s long thin fingers very earnestly, and turned her face to the
- fire, while she struggled down the rising emotion. There was a little
- silence, and when they began to talk again, it was of the engravings at
- which Fred had just been looking. The visit lasted till the dressing bell
- rang, when Beatrice was obliged to go, and she shook hands with Fred,
- saying cheerfully, “Well, good-bye, I hope you will be better friends with
- the doctors next time I see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never will I like one inch of a doctor, never!” repeated Fred, as she
- left the room, and ran to snatch what moments she could with her mamma in
- the space allowed for dressing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Grandmamma was happy that evening, for, except poor Frederick’s own place,
- there were no melancholy gaps at the dinner-table. He had Bennet to sit
- with him, and besides, there was within call the confidential old
- man-servant, who had lived so many years at Rocksand, and in whom both
- Fred and his mother placed considerable dependence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Everything looked like recovery; Mrs. Frederick Langford came down and
- talked and smiled like her own sweet self; Mrs. Geoffrey Langford was
- ready to hear all the news, old Mr. Langford was quite in spirits again,
- Henrietta was bright and lively. The thought of long days in London with
- Lady Susan, and of long evenings with no mamma, and with papa either
- writing or at his chambers, began from force of contrast to seem doubly
- like banishment to poor little Queen Bee, but whatever faults she had, she
- was no repiner. “I deserve it,” said she to herself, “and surely I ought
- to bear my share of the trouble my wilfulness has occasioned. Besides,
- with even one little bit of papa’s company I am only too well off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So she smiled, and answered grandpapa in her favourite style, so that no
- one would have guessed from her demeanour that a task had been imposed
- upon her which she so much disliked, and in truth her thoughts were much
- more on others than on herself. She saw all hopeful and happy about Fred,
- and as to her aunt, when she saw her as usual with all her playful
- gentleness, she could not think that there was anything seriously amiss
- with her, or if there was, mamma would find out and set it all to rights.
- Then how soothing and comforting, now that the first acute pain of remorse
- was over, was that affectionate kindness, which, in every little gesture
- and word, Aunt Mary had redoubled to her ever since the accident.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred was all this time lying on his sofa, very glad to rest after so much
- talking: weak, dizzy, and languid, and throwing all the blame of his
- uncomfortable sensations on Philip Carey and the starvation system, but
- still, perhaps, not without thoughts of a less discontented nature, for
- when Mr. Geoffrey Langford came to help him to bed, he said, as he watched
- the various arrangements his uncle was for the last time sedulously making
- for his comfort, “Uncle Geoffrey, I ought to thank you very much; I am
- afraid I have been a great plague to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps Fred did not say this in all sincerity, for any one but Uncle
- Geoffrey would have completely disowned the plaguing, and he fully
- expected him to do so; but his uncle had a stern regard for truth, coupled
- with a courtesy which left it no more harshness than was salutary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Anything for your good, my dear sir,” said he, with a smile. “You are
- welcome to plague me as much as you like, only remember that your mamma is
- not quite so tough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I do try to be considerate about her,” said Fred. “I mean to make
- her rest as much as possible; Henrietta and I have been settling how to
- save her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You could save her more than all, Fred, if you would spare her
- discussions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred held his tongue, for though his memory was rather cloudy about the
- early part of his illness, he did remember having seen her look greatly
- harassed one day lately when he had been arguing against Philip Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey proceeded to gather up some of the outlines which Henrietta
- had left on the sofa. “I like those very much,” said Fred, “especially the
- Fight with the Dragon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know Schiller’s poem on it?” said Uncle Geoffrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Henrietta has it in German.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it is what I should especially recommend to your consideration.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am afraid it will be long enough before I am able to go out on a
- dragon-killing expedition,” said Fred, with a weary helpless sigh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fight the dragon at home, then, Freddy. Now is the time for—
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- ‘The duty hardest to fulfil,
- To learn to yield our own self-will.’”
- </pre>
- <p>
- “There is very little hasty pudding in the case,” said Fred, rather
- disconsolately, and at the same time rather drolly, and with a sort of
- resolution of this kind, “I will try then, I will not bother mamma, let
- that Carey serve me as he may. I will not make a fuss, if I can help it,
- unless he is very unreasonable indeed, and when I get well I will submit
- to be coddled in an exemplary manner; I only wonder when I shall feel up
- to anything again! O! what a nuisance it is to have this swimming head and
- aching knees, all by the fault of that Carey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey said no more, for he thought a hint often was more useful
- than a lecture, even if Fred had been in a state for the latter, and
- besides he was in greater request than ever on this last evening, so much
- so that it seemed as if no one was going to spare him even to have half an
- hour’s talk with his wife. He did find the time for this at last, however,
- and his first question was, “What do you think of the little Bee?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think with great hope, much more satisfactorily than I have been able
- to do for some time past,” was the answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child, she has felt it very deeply,” said he, “I have been grieved
- to have so little time to bestow on her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am disposed to think,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, thoughtfully, “that
- it was the best thing for her to be thrown on herself. Too much talk has
- always been the mischief with her, as with many another only child, and it
- struck me to-day as a very good sign that she said so little. There was
- something very touching in the complete absence of moralizing to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None of her sensible sayings,” said her father, with a gratified though a
- grave smile. “It was perfectly open confession, and yet with no self in
- it. Ever since the accident there has been a staidness and sedateness
- about her manner which seemed like great improvement, as far as I have
- seen. And when it was proposed for her to go to Lady Susan, I was much
- pleased with her, she was so simple: ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘I hope I
- shall be able to make her comfortable:’ no begging off, no heroism. And
- really, Beatrice, don’t you think we could make some other arrangement? It
- is too great a penance for her, poor child. Lady Susan will do very well,
- and I can have an eye to her; I am much inclined to leave the poor little
- Queen here with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, Geoffrey,” said his wife, “that would never do: I do not mean on
- my aunt’s account, but on the Busy Bee’s; I am sure, wish it as we may,”
- and the tears were in her eyes, “this is no time for even the semblance of
- neglecting a duty for her sake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not so much hers as yours,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “you have more on
- your hands than I like to leave you alone to encounter, and she is a
- valuable little assistant. Besides you have been without her so long, it
- is your turn to keep her now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, no,” she repeated, though not without an effort, “it is best as
- it is settled for all, and decidedly so for me, for with her to write to
- me about you every day, and to look after you, I shall be a hundred times
- more at ease than if I thought you were working yourself to death with no
- one to remonstrate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So it remained as before decided, and the pain that the decision cost both
- mother and daughter was only to be inferred by the way in which they kept
- close together, as if determined not to lose unnecessarily one fragment of
- each other’s company; but they had very few moments alone together, and
- those were chiefly employed in practical matters, in minute directions as
- to the little things that conduced to keep Lady Susan in good humour, and
- above all, the arrangements for papa’s comfort. There was thus not much
- time for Beatrice to spend with Henrietta, nor indeed would much have
- resulted if there had been more. As she grew more at ease about her
- brother, Henrietta had gradually resumed her usual manner, and was now as
- affectionate to Beatrice as ever, but she was quite unconscious of her
- previous unkindness, and therefore made no attempt to atone for it. Queen
- Bee had ceased to think of it, and if a reserve had grown up between the
- two girls, they neither of them perceived it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Geoffrey Langford and his daughter set out on their return to London
- so early the next morning that hardly any of the family were up; but their
- hurried breakfast in the grey of morning was enlivened by Alex, who came
- in just in time to exchange some last words with Uncle Geoffrey about his
- school work, and to wish Queen Bee good-bye, with hopes of a merrier
- meeting next summer.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Mrs. Geoffrey Langford had from the first felt considerable anxiety for
- her sister-in-law, who, though cheerful as ever, began at length to allow
- that she felt worn out, and consented to spare herself more than she had
- hitherto done. The mischief was, however, not to be averted, and after a
- few days of increasing languor, she was attacked by a severe fit of the
- spasms, to which she had for several years been subject at intervals, and
- was obliged to confine herself entirely to her own room, relying with
- complete confidence on her sister for the attendance on her son.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was to her, however, that Mrs. Geoffrey Langford wished most to devote
- herself; viewing her case with more uneasiness than that of Frederick, who
- was decidedly on the fair road to convalescence; and she only gave him as
- much time as was necessary to satisfy his mother, and to superintend the
- regulation of his room. He had all the society he wanted in his sister,
- who was always with him, and in grandpapa and grandmamma, whose short and
- frequent visits he began greatly to enjoy. He had also been more amenable
- to authority of late, partly in consequence of his uncle’s warning, partly
- because it was not quite so easy to torment an aunt as a mother, and
- partly too because, excepting always the starving system, he had nothing
- in particular of which to complain. His mother’s illness might also have
- its effect in subduing him; but it did not dwell much on his spirits, or
- Henrietta’s, as they were too much accustomed to her ill health to be
- easily alarmed on her account.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the last day of the holidays, and Alexander was to come late in the
- afternoon—Fred’s best time in the day—to take his leave. All
- the morning Fred was rather out of spirits, and talked to Henrietta a good
- deal about his school life. It might have been a melancholy day if he had
- been going back to school, but it was more sad to be obliged to stay away
- from the world where he had hitherto been measuring his powers, and
- finding his most exciting interests. It was very mortifying to be thus
- laid helplessly aside; a mere nobody, instead of an important and leading
- member of a community; at such an age too that it was probable that he
- would never return there again.
- </p>
- <p>
- He began to describe to Henrietta all the scenes where he would be
- missing, but not missed; the old cathedral town, with its nest of trees,
- and the chalky hills; the quiet river creeping through the meadows: the
- “beech-crowned steep,” girdled in with the “hollow trench that the Danish
- pirate made;” the old collegiate courts, the painted windows of the
- chapel, the surpliced scholars,—even the very shops in the streets
- had their part in his description: and then falling into silence he sighed
- at the thought that there he would be known no more,—all would go on
- as usual, and after a few passing inquiries and expressions of compassion,
- he would be forgotten; his rivals would pass him in the race of
- distinction; his school-boy career be at an end.
- </p>
- <p>
- His reflections were interrupted by Mrs. Langford’s entrance with Aunt
- Geoffrey, bringing a message of invitation from grandpapa to Henrietta, to
- walk with him to Sutton Leigh. She went; and Aunt Geoffrey, after putting
- a book within Fred’s reach, and seeing that he and grandmamma were quite
- willing to be companionable, again returned to his mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford thought him low and depressed, and began talking about his
- health, and the present mode of treatment,—a subject on which they
- were perfectly agreed: one being as much inclined to bestow a good diet as
- the other could be to receive it. If his head was still often painfully
- dizzy and confused; if his eyes dazzled when he attempted to read for a
- long time together; if he could not stand or walk across the room without
- excessive giddiness—what was that but the effect of want of
- nourishment? “If there was a craving, that was a sure sign that the thing
- was wholesome.” So she said, and her grandson assented with his whole
- heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few minutes she left the room, and presently returned with a most
- tempting-looking glass of clear amber-coloured jelly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, grandmamma!” said Fred, doubtfully, though his eyes positively lighted
- up at the sight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, my dear, I had it made for your mamma, and she says it is very good.
- It is as clear as possible, and quite innocent; I am sure it must do you
- good.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you! O, thank you! It does look very nice,” said Fred, gazing on it
- with wistful eyes, “but really I do not think I ought.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it was to do you any harm, I am sure I should not think of such a
- thing,” said Mrs. Langford. “But I have lived a good many more years in
- the world than these young people, and I never saw any good come of all
- this keeping low. There was old Mr. Hilton, now, that attended all the
- neighbourhood round when I was a girl; he kept you low enough while the
- fever was on you, but as soon as it was gone, why then reinvigorate the
- system,—that was what he used to say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just like old Clarke, of Rocksand!” sighed Fred. “I know my system would
- like nothing better than to be re-invigorated with that splendid stuff;
- but you would know it would put them all in a dreadful state if they knew
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind,” said grandmamma; “‘tis all my doing, you know. Come, to
- oblige me, taste it, my dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One spoonful,” said Fred—“to oblige grandmamma,” added he to
- himself: and he let grandmamma lift him on the cushions as far as he could
- bear to have his head raised. He took the spoonful, then started a little,—“There
- is wine in it!” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A very little—just enough to give it a flavour; it cannot make any
- difference. Do you like it, my dear?” as the spoon scooped out another
- transparent rock. “Ay, that is right! I had the receipt from my old Aunt
- Kitty, and nobody ever could make it like Judith.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am in for it now,” thought Fred. “Well, ‘tis excellent,” said he;
- “capital stuff! I feel it all down to my fingers’ ends,” added he with a
- smile, as he returned the glass, after fishing in vain for the particles
- remaining in the small end.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is right; I am so glad to see you enjoy it!” said grandmamma,
- hurrying off with the empty glass with speed at which Fred smiled, as it
- implied some fears of meeting Aunt Geoffrey. He knew the nature of his own
- case sufficiently to be aware that he had acted very imprudently,—that
- is to say, his better sense was aware—but his spirit of self-will
- made him consider all these precautions as nonsense, and was greatly
- confirmed by his feeling himself much more fresh and lively. Grandmamma
- returned to announce Alexander and Willy, who soon followed her, and after
- shaking hands, stood silent, much shocked at the alteration in Fred’s
- appearance.
- </p>
- <p>
- This impression, however, soon passed off, as Fred began to talk over
- school affairs in a very animated manner; sending messages to his friends,
- discussing the interests of the coming half-year, the games, the studies,
- the employments; Alex lamenting Fred’s absence, engaging to write,
- undertaking numerous commissions, and even prognosticating his speedy
- recovery, and attainment of that cynosure,—the prize. Never had the
- two cousins met so cordially, or so enjoyed their meeting. There was no
- competition; each could afford to do the other justice, and both felt
- great satisfaction in doing so; and so high and even so loud became their
- glee, that Alex could scarcely believe that Fred was not in perfect
- health. At last Aunt Geoffrey came to put an end to it; and finding Fred
- so much excited, she made Alex bring his blunt honest farewells and good
- wishes to a speedy conclusion, desired Fred to lie quiet and rest, and sat
- down herself to see that he did so.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred could not easily be brought to repose; he went on talking fast and
- eagerly in praise of Alex, and in spite of her complete assent, he went on
- more and more vehemently, just as if he was defending Alex from some one
- who wanted to detract from his merits. She tried reading to him, but he
- grew too eager about the book; and at last she rather advanced the time
- for dressing for dinner, both for herself and Henrietta, and sent Bennet
- to sit with him, hoping thus perforce to reduce him to a quiescent state.
- He was by this means a little calmed for the rest of the evening; but so
- wakeful and restless a night ensued, that he began to be alarmed, and
- fully came to the conclusion that Philip Carey was in the right after all.
- Towards morning, however, a short sleep visited him, and he awoke at
- length quite sufficiently refreshed to be self-willed as ever; and,
- contrary to advice, insisted on leaving his bed at his usual hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- Philip Carey came at about twelve o’clock, and was disappointed as well as
- surprised to find him so much more languid and uncomfortable, as he could
- not help allowing that he felt. His pulse, too, was unsatisfactory; but
- Philip thought the excitement of the interview with Alex well accounted
- for the sleepless night, as well as for the exhaustion of the present day:
- and Fred persuaded himself to believe so too.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta did not like to leave him to-day, but she was engaged to take a
- ride with grandpapa, who felt as if the little Mary of years long gone by
- was restored to him, when he had acquired a riding companion in his
- granddaughter. Mrs. Langford undertook to sit with Fred, and Mrs. Geoffrey
- Langford, who had been at first afraid that she would be too bustling a
- nurse for him just now, seeing that he was evidently impatient to be left
- alone with her, returned to Mrs. Frederick Langford, resolving, however,
- not to be long absent.
- </p>
- <p>
- In that interval Mrs. Langford brought in the inviting glass, and Fred, in
- spite of his good sense, could not resist it. Perhaps the recent
- irritation of Philip’s last visit made him more willing to act in
- opposition to his orders. At any rate, he thought of little save of
- swallowing it before Aunt Geoffrey should catch him in the fact, in which
- he succeeded; so that grandmamma had time to get the tell-tale glass
- safely into the store-closet just as Mrs. Frederick Langford’s door was
- opened at the other end of the passage.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred’s sofa cushions were all too soft or too hard that afternoon,—too
- high or too low; there was a great mountain in the middle of the sofa,
- too, so that he could not lie on it comfortably. The room was chilly
- though the fire was hot, and how grandmamma did poke it! Fred thought she
- did nothing else the whole afternoon; and there was a certain concluding
- shovel that she gave to the cinders, that very nearly put him in a
- passion. Nothing would make him comfortable till Henrietta came in, and it
- seemed very long before he heard the paddock gate, and the horses’ feet
- upon the gravel. Then he grew very much provoked because his sister went
- first to her mamma’s room; and it was grandpapa who came to him full of a
- story of Henrietta’s good management of her horse when they suddenly met
- the hounds in a narrow lane. In she came, at last, in her habit, her hair
- hanging loosely round her face, her cheeks and eyes lighted up by the
- exercise, and some early primroses in her hand, begging his pardon for
- having kept him waiting, but saying she thought he did not want her
- directly, as he had grandpapa.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless he scolded her, ordered her specimens of the promise of
- spring out of the room on an accusation of their possessing a strong
- scent, made her make a complete revolution on his sofa, and then insisted
- on her going on with Nicolo de Lapi, which she was translating to him from
- the Italian. Warm as the room felt to her in her habit, she sat down
- directly, without going to take it off; but he was not to be thus
- satisfied. He found fault with her for hesitating in her translation, and
- desired her to read the Italian instead; then she read first so fast that
- he could not follow, and then so slowly that it was quite unbearable, and
- she must go on translating. With the greatest patience and sweetest temper
- she obeyed; only when next he interrupted her to find fault, she stopped
- and said gently, “Dear Fred, I am afraid you are not feeling so well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nonsense! What should make you think so? You think I am cross, I suppose.
- Well, never mind, I will go on for myself,” said he, snatching the book.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta turned away to hide her tears, for she was too wise to vindicate
- herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you crying? I am sure I said nothing to cry about; I wish you would
- not be so silly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you would only let me go on, dear Fred,” said she, thinking that
- occupying him would be better than arguing. “It is so dark where you are,
- and I will try to get on better. There is an easier piece coming.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred agreed, and she went on without interruption for some little time,
- till at last he grew so excited by the story as to be very angry when the
- failing light obliged her to pause. She tried to extract some light from
- the fire, but this was a worse offence than any; it was too bad of her,
- when she knew how he hated both the sound of poking, and that horrible red
- flickering light which always hurt his eyes. This dislike, which had been
- one of the symptoms of the early part of his illness, so alarmed her that
- she had thoughts of going to call Aunt Geoffrey, and was heartily glad to
- see her enter the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, how are you going on?” she said, cheerfully. “Why, my dear, how hot
- you must be in that habit!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rather,” said poor Henrietta, whose face, between the heat and her
- perplexity, was almost crimson. “We have been reading ‘Nicolo,’ and I am
- very much afraid it is as bad as Alex’s visit, and has excited Fred
- again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am quite sick of hearing that word excitement!” said Fred, impatiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Almost as tired as of having your pulse felt,” said Aunt Geoffrey. “But
- yet I must ask you to submit to that disagreeable necessity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred moved pettishly, but as he could not refuse, he only told Henrietta
- that he could not bear any one to look at him while his pulse was felt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you fetch me a candle, my dear?” said Aunt Geoffrey, amazed as well
- as terrified by the fearful rapidity of the throbs, and trying to acquire
- sufficient composure to count them calmly. The light came, and still she
- held his wrist, beginning her reckoning again and again, in the hope that
- it was only some momentary agitation that had so quickened them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! ‘tis faster?” asked Fred, speaking in a hasty alarmed tone, when
- she released him at last.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are flushed, Fred,” she answered very quietly, though she felt full
- of consternation. “Yes, faster than it ought to be; I think you had better
- not sit up any longer this evening, or you will sleep no better than last
- night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I will ring for Stephens,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first thing she did on leaving his room was to go to her own, and
- there write a note to young Mr. Carey, giving an account of the symptoms
- that had caused her so much alarm. As she wrote them down without
- exaggeration, and trying to give each its just weight, going back to
- recollect the first unfavourable sign, she suddenly remembered that as she
- left her sister’s room, she had seen Mrs. Langford, whom she had left with
- Fred, at the door of the store-closet. Could she have been giving him any
- of her favourite nourishing things? Mrs. Geoffrey Langford could hardly
- believe that either party could have acted so foolishly, yet when she
- remembered a few words that had passed about the jelly that morning at
- breakfast, she could no longer doubt, and bitterly reproached herself for
- not having kept up a stricter surveillance. Of her suspicion she however
- said nothing, but sealing her note, she went down to the drawing-room,
- told Mr. Langford that she did not think Fred quite so well that evening,
- and asked him if he did not think it might be better to let Philip Carey
- know. He agreed instantly, and rang the bell to order a servant to ride to
- Allonfield; but Mrs. Langford, who could not bear any one but Geoffrey to
- act without consulting her, pitied man and horse for being out so late,
- and opined that Beatrice forgot that she was not in London, where the
- medical man could be called in so easily.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was fortunate that it was the elder Beatrice instead of the younger,
- for provoked as she already had been before with the old lady, it was not
- easy even for her to make a cheerful answer. “Well, it is very kind in you
- to attend to my London fancies,” said she; “I think if we can do anything
- to spare him such a night as the last, it should be tried.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Langford. “It is very disappointing when
- he was going on so well. He must surely have been doing something
- imprudent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was very tempting to interrogate Mrs. Langford, but her daughter-in-law
- had long since come to a resolution never to convey to her anything like
- reproach, let her do what she might in her mistaken kindness of heart, or
- her respectable prejudices; so, without entering on what many in her place
- might have made a scene of polite recrimination, she left the room, and on
- her way up, heard Frederick’s door gently opened. Stephens came quickly
- and softly to the end of the passage to meet her. “He is asking for you,
- ma’am,” said he; “I am afraid he is not so well; I did not like to ring,
- for fear of alarming my mistress, but—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Geoffrey Langford entered the room, and found that the bustle and
- exertion of being carried to his bed had brought on excessive confusion
- and violent pain. He put his hand to his forehead, opened his eyes, and
- looked wildly about. “Oh, Aunt Geoffrey,” he exclaimed, “what shall I do?
- It is as bad—worse than ever!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have been doing something imprudent, I fear,” said Aunt Geoffrey,
- determined to come to the truth at once.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only that glass of jelly—if I had guessed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only one?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One to-day, one yesterday. It was grandmamma’s doing. Don’t let her know
- that I told. I wish mamma was here!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Geoffrey tried to relieve the pain by cold applications, but could
- not succeed, and Fred grew more and more alarmed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The inflammation is coming back!” he cried, in an agony of apprehension
- that almost overcame the sense of pain. “I shall be in danger—I
- shall lose my senses—I shall die! Mamma! O! where is mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lie still, my dear Fred,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, laying her hand on
- him so as to restrain his struggling movements to turn round or to sit up.
- “Resistance and agitation will hurt you more than anything else. You must
- control yourself, and trust to me, and you may be sure I will do the best
- in my power for you. The rest is in the hands of God.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you think me very ill?” said Fred, trying to speak more composedly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think you will certainly make yourself very ill, unless you will keep
- yourself quiet, both mind and body. There—” she settled him as
- comfortably as she could: “Now I am going away for a few minutes. Make a
- resolution not to stir till I come back. Stephens is here, and I shall
- soon come back.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was very unlike the way in which his mother used to beseech him as a
- favour to spare her, and yet his aunt’s tone was so affectionate, as well
- as so authoritative, that he could not feel it unkind. She left the room,
- and as soon as she found herself alone in the passage, leant against the
- wall and trembled, for she felt herself for a moment quite overwhelmed,
- and longed earnestly for her husband to think for her, or even for one
- short interval in which to reflect. For this, however, there was no time,
- and with one earnest mental supplication, summoning up her energies, she
- walked on to the person whom she at that moment most dreaded to see, her
- sister-in-law. She found her sitting in her arm-chair, Henrietta with her,
- both looking very anxious, and she was glad to find her prepared.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is it?” was the first eager question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has been attempting rather too much of late,” was the answer, “and has
- knocked himself up. I came to tell you, because I think I had better stay
- with him, and perhaps you might miss me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, no, pray go to him. Nothing satisfies me so well about him as that
- you should be there, except that I cannot bear to give you so much
- trouble. Don’t stay here answering questions. He will be so restless if he
- misses you—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you sit imagining, Mary; let Henrietta read to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This proposal made Henrietta look so piteous and wistful that her mother
- said, “No, no, let her go to Freddy, poor child. I dare say he wants her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By no means,” said Aunt Geoffrey, opening the door; “he will be quieter
- without her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta was annoyed, and walked about the room, instead of sitting down
- to read. She was too fond of her own will to like being thus checked, and
- she thought she had quite as good a right to be with her brother as her
- aunt could have. Every temper has one side or other on which it is
- susceptible; and this was hers. She thought it affection for her brother,
- whereas it was impatience of being ordered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her mother forced herself to speak cheerfully. “Aunt Geoffrey is a capital
- nurse,” said she; “there is something so decided about her that it always
- does one good. It saves all the trouble and perplexity of thinking for
- oneself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had rather judge for myself,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is all very well to talk of,” said her mother, smiling sadly, “but
- it is a very different thing when you are obliged to do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what do you like to hear?” said Henrietta, who found herself too
- cross for conversation. “The old man’s home?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not read unless you like it, my dear; I think you must be tired. You
- would want ‘lungs of brass’ to go on all day to both of us. You had better
- not. I should like to talk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta being in a wilful fit, chose nevertheless to read, because it
- gave her the satisfaction of feeling that Aunt Geoffrey was inflicting a
- hardship upon her; although her mother would have preferred conversation.
- So she took up a book, and began, without any perception of the sense of
- what she was reading, but her thoughts dwelling partly on her brother, and
- partly on her aunt’s provoking ways. She read on through a whole chapter,
- then closing the book hastily, exclaimed, “I must go and see what Aunt
- Geoffrey is doing with Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is not such a very dangerous person,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford,
- almost laughing at the form of the expression.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but you surely want to know how he is, mamma?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure I do, but I am so afraid of his being disturbed. If he was
- just going to sleep now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, but you know how softly I can open the door.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your aunt would let us know if there was anything to hear. Pray take
- care, my dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must go, I can’t bear it any longer; I will only just listen,” said
- Henrietta; “I will not be a moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me have the book, my dear,” said her mother, who knew but too well
- the length of Henrietta’s moments, and who had just, by means of a great
- effort, succeeded in making herself take interest in the book.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta gave it to her, and darted off. The door of Fred’s room was
- ajar, and she entered. Aunt Geoffrey, Bennet, and Judith were standing
- round the bed, her aunt sponging away the blood that was flowing from
- Frederick’s temples. His eyes were closed, and he now and then gave long
- gasping sighs of oppression and faintness. “Leeches!” thought Henrietta,
- as she started with consternation and displeasure. “This is pretty strong!
- Without telling me or mamma! Well, this is what I call doing something
- with him indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She advanced to the table, but no one saw her for more than a minute, till
- at last Aunt Geoffrey stepped quickly up to it in search of some bottle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me do something,” said Henrietta, catching up the bottle that she
- thought likely to be the right one.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her aunt looked vexed, and answered in a low quick tone, “You had better
- stay with your mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But why are you doing this? Is he worse? Is Mr. Philip Carey here? Has he
- ordered it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is not come yet. My dear, I cannot talk to you: I should be much
- obliged if you would go back to your mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Geoffrey went back to Fred, but a few minutes after she looked up and
- still saw Henrietta standing by the table. She came up to her, “Henrietta,
- you are of no use here; every additional person oppresses him; your mamma
- must be kept tranquil. Why will you stay?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was just going,” said Henrietta, taking this hurrying as an additional
- offence, and walking off in a dignified way.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was hard to say what had affronted her most, the proceeding itself, the
- neglect, or the commands which Aunt Geoffrey had presumed to lay upon her,
- and away she went to her mamma, a great deal too much displeased, and too
- distrustful to pay the smallest attention to any precautions which her
- aunt might have tried to impress upon her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well!” asked her mother anxiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She would not let me stay,” answered Henrietta. “She has been putting on
- leeches.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Leeches!” exclaimed her mother. “He must be much worse. Poor fellow! Is
- Mr. Carey here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, that is the odd thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has he not been sent for?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure I don’t know. Aunt Geoffrey seems to like to do things in her
- own way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be very bad indeed if she cannot venture to wait for him!” said
- Mrs. Frederick Langford, much alarmed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And never to tell you!” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, that was her consideration. She knew how foolishly anxious I should
- be. I have no doubt that she is doing right. How did he seem to be?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very faint, I thought,” said Henrietta, “there seemed to be a great deal
- of bleeding, but Aunt Geoffrey would not let me come near.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She knows exactly what to do,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford. “How well it
- was that she should be here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta began to be so fretted at her mother’s complete confidence in
- her aunt, that without thinking of the consequences she tried to argue it
- away. “Aunt Geoffrey is so quick—she does things without half the
- consideration other people do. And she likes to settle everything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But happily the confiding friendship of a lifetime was too strong to be
- even harassed for a moment by the petulant suspicions of an angry girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear, if you were not vexed and anxious, I should tell you that you
- were speaking very improperly of your aunt. I am perfectly satisfied that
- she is doing what is right by dear Fred, as well as by me; and if I am
- satisfied, no one else has any right to object.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was nothing left for Henrietta in her present state of spirits but
- to have a hearty cry, one of the best possible ways she could find of
- distressing her mother, who all the time was suffering infinitely more
- than she could imagine from her fears, her efforts to silence them, and
- the restraint which she was exercising upon herself, longing as she did to
- fly to her son’s room, to see with her own eyes, and only detained by the
- fear that her sudden appearance there might agitate him. The tears,
- whatever might be their effect upon her, did Henrietta good, and restored
- her to something more like her proper senses. She grew rather alarmed,
- too, when she saw her mamma’s pale looks, as she leant back almost
- exhausted with anxiety and repressed agitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Langford came up to bring them some tea, and she, having little idea
- of the real state of things, took so encouraging a view as to cheer them
- both, and her visit did much service at least to Henrietta. Then they
- heard sounds announcing Philip Carey’s arrival, and presently after in
- came Bennet with a message from Mr. Frederick that he was better, and that
- his mother was not to be frightened. At last came Aunt Geoffrey, saying,
- “Well, Mary, he is better. I have been very sorry to leave you so long,
- and I believe Henrietta,” looking at her with a smile, “thinks I have used
- you very ill.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe she did,” said her mother, “but I was sure you would do right;
- you say he is better? Let me hear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much better; only—. But Mary, you look quite worn out, you should
- go to bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me hear about him first.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Geoffrey accordingly told the whole history, as, perhaps, every one
- would not have told it, for one portion of it in some degree justified
- Henrietta’s opinion that she had been doing a great deal on her own
- responsibility. It had been very difficult to stop the bleeding, and Fred,
- already very weak, had been so faint and exhausted that she had felt
- considerable alarm, and was much rejoiced by the arrival of Philip Carey,
- who had not been at home when the messenger reached his house. Now,
- however, all was well; he had fully approved all that she had done, and,
- although she did not repeat this to Mrs. Frederick Langford, had
- pronounced that her promptitude and energy had probably saved the
- patient’s life. Fred, greatly relieved, had fallen asleep, and she had now
- come, with almost an equal sense of relief, to tell his mother all that
- had passed, and ask her pardon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, Beatrice, what do you mean by that? Is it not what you and Geoffrey
- have always done to treat him as your own son instead of mine? and is it
- not almost my chief happiness to feel assured that you always will do so?
- You know that is the reason I never thank you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta hung her head, and felt that she had been very unjust and
- ungrateful, more especially when her aunt said, “You thought it very hard
- to have your mouth stopped, Henrietta, my dear, and I was sorry for it,
- but I had not much time to be polite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sorry I was in the way,” said she, an acknowledgment such as she had
- seldom made.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred awoke the next morning much better, though greatly fallen back in his
- progress towards recovery, but his mother had during the night the worst
- fit of spasms from which she had ever suffered.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Henrietta thought it all so well accounted for by all the agitations
- of the evening before, that there was no reason for further anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a comfort to Aunt Geoffrey, who took it rather more seriously, that
- she received that morning a letter from her husband, concluding,
- </p>
- <p>
- “As to the Queen Bee, I have no doubt that you can judge of her frame
- better from the tone of her letters than from anything I have to tell. I
- think her essentially improved and improving, and you will think I do not
- speak without warrant, when I tell you that Lady Susan expressed herself
- quite warmly respecting her this morning. She continues to imagine that
- she has the charge of Queen Bee, and not Queen Bee of her, and I think it
- much that she has been allowed to continue in the belief. Lady Amelia
- comes to-morrow, and then I hope the poor little woman’s penance may be
- over, for though she makes no complaints, there is no doubt that it is a
- heavy one, as her thorough enjoyment of a book, and an hour’s freedom from
- that little gossiping flow of plaintive talk sufficiently testify.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Frederick had lost much ground, and yet on the whole his relapse was of no
- slight service to him. In the earlier part of his illness he had been so
- stupefied by the accident, that he had neither been conscious of his
- danger, nor was able to preserve any distinct remembrance of what he had
- suffered. But this return to his former state, with all his senses
- perfect, made him realise the rest, and begin to perceive how near to the
- grave he had been brought. A deep shuddering sense of awe came over him,
- as he thought what it would have been to die then, without a minute of
- clear recollection, and his last act one of wilful disobedience. And how
- had he requited the mercy which had spared him? He had shown as much of
- that same spirit of self-will as his feebleness would permit; he had been
- exacting, discontented, rebellious, and well indeed had he deserved to be
- cut off in the midst of the sin in which he had persisted.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was too weak to talk, but his mind was wide awake; and many an earnest
- thanksgiving, and resolution strengthened by prayer, were made in silence
- during the two or three days that passed, partly in such thoughts as
- these, and for many hours more in sleep; while sometimes his aunt,
- sometimes his sister, and sometimes even Bennet, sat by his bed-side
- unchidden for not being “mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Above all,” said he to himself, “he would for the future devote himself,
- to make up to her for all that he had caused her to suffer for his sake.
- Even if he were never to mount a horse or fire a gun for the rest of his
- life, what would such a sacrifice be for such a mother?” It was very
- disappointing that, at present, all he could even attempt to do for her
- was to send her messages—and affection does not travel well by
- message,—and at the same time to show submission to her known
- wishes. And after all, it would have been difficult not to have shown
- submission, for Aunt Geoffrey, as he already felt, was not a person to be
- argued with, but to be obeyed; and for very shame he could not have
- indulged himself in his Philippics after the proof he had experienced of
- their futility.
- </p>
- <p>
- So, partly on principle, and partly from necessity, he ceased to grumble,
- and from that time forth it was wonderful how much less unpleasant even
- external things appeared, and how much his health benefited by the
- tranquillity of spirits thus produced. He was willing to be pleased with
- all that was done with that intent; and as he grew better, it certainly
- was a strange variety with which he had to be amused throughout the day.
- Very good naturedly he received all such civilities, especially when Willy
- brought him a bottle of the first live sticklebacks of the season,
- accompanied by a message from Arthur that he hoped soon to send him a
- basin of tame tadpoles,—and when John rushed up with a basket of
- blind young black satin puppies, their mother following in a state of
- agitation only equalled by that of Mrs. Langford and Judith.
- </p>
- <p>
- Willy, a nice intelligent little fellow, grew very fond of him, and spent
- much time with him, taking delight in his books and prints, beyond what
- could have been thought possible in one of the Sutton Leigh party.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he was strong enough to guide a pencil or pen, a very enjoyable
- correspondence commenced between him and his mother, who was still unable
- to leave her apartment; and hardly any one ever passed between the two
- rooms without being the bearer of some playful greeting, or droll
- descriptions of the present scene and occupation, chronicles of the
- fashionable arrivals of the white clouds before the window, of a bunch of
- violets, or a new book; the fashionable departure of the headache, the
- fire, or a robin; notices that tom-tits were whetting their saws on the
- next tree, or of the domestic proceedings of the rooks who were building
- their house opposite to Mrs. Frederick Langford’s window, and whom she
- watched so much that she was said to be in a fair way of solving the
- problem of how many sticks go to a crow’s nest; criticisms of the books
- read by each party, and very often a reference to that celebrated billet,
- unfortunately delivered over night to Prince Talleyrand, informing him
- that his devoted friend had scarcely closed her eyes all night, and then
- only to dream of him!
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta grew very happy. She had her brother again, as wholly hers as in
- their younger days,—depending upon her, participating in all her
- pleasures, or rather giving her favourite occupations double zest, by
- their being for him, for his amusement. She rode and walked in the
- beautiful open spring country with grandpapa, to whom she was a most
- valuable companion; and on her return she had two to visit, both of whom
- looked forward with keen interest and delight to hearing her histories of
- down and wood, of field and valley, of farm-house, cottage, or school; had
- a laugh for the least amusing circumstance, admiration for the spring
- flower or leaf, and power to follow her descriptions of budding woods,
- soft rising hills, and gorgeous sunsets. How her mamma enjoyed comparing
- notes with her about those same woods and dells, and would describe the
- adventures of her own youth! And now it might be noticed that she did not
- avoid speaking of those in which Henrietta’s father had been engaged; nay,
- she dwelt on them by preference, and without the suppressed sigh which had
- formerly followed anything like a reference to him. Sometimes she would
- smile to identify the bold open down with the same where she had run races
- with him, and even laugh to think of the droll adventures. Sometimes the
- shady woodland walk would make her describe their nutting parties, or it
- would bring her thoughts to some fit of childish mischief and concealment,
- and to the confession to which his bolder and more upright counsel had at
- length led her. Or she would tell of the long walks they had taken
- together when older grown, when each had become prime counsellor and
- confidante of the other; and the interests and troubles of home and of
- school were poured out to willing ears, and sympathy and advice exchanged.
- How Fred and Mary had been companions from the very first, how their love
- had grown up unconsciously, in the sports in the sunny fields, shady
- coombs, and green woods of their home: how it had strengthened and ripened
- with advancing years, and how bright and unclouded their sunshine had been
- to dwell on: this was her delight, while the sadness which once spoke of
- crushed hopes, and lost happiness, had gone from her smile. It was as if
- she still felt herself walking in the light of his love, and at the same
- time, as if she wished to show him to his daughter as he was, and to tell
- Henrietta of those words and those ways of his which were most
- characteristic, and which used to be laid up so fast in her heart, that
- she could never have borne to speak of them. The bitterness of his death,
- as it regarded herself, seemed to have passed, the brightness of his
- memory alone remaining. Henrietta loved to listen, but scarcely so much as
- her mother loved to tell; and instead of agitating her, these
- recollections always seemed to soothe and make her happy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta knew that Aunt Geoffrey and grandpapa were both of them anxious
- about her mother’s health, but for her own part she did not think her
- worse than she had often been before; and whilst she continued in nearly
- the same state, rose every day, sat in her arm-chair, and was so cheerful,
- and even lively, there could not be very much amiss, even though there was
- no visible progress in amendment. Serious complaint there was, as she knew
- of old, to cause the spasms; but it had existed so long, that after the
- first shock of being told of it two years ago, she had almost ceased to
- think about it. She satisfied herself to her own mind that it could not,
- should not be progressing, and that this was only a very slow recovery
- from the last attack.
- </p>
- <p>
- Time went on, and a shade began to come over Fred. He was bright and merry
- when anything occurred to amuse him, did not like reading less, or take
- less interest in his occupations; but in the intervals of quiet he grew
- grave and almost melancholy, and his inquiries after his mother grew
- minute and anxious.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta,” said he, one day when they were alone together, “I was trying
- to reckon how long it is since I have seen mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, I think she will come and see you in a few days more,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have told me that so many times,” said Fred. “I think I must try to
- get to her. That passage, if it was not so very long! If Uncle Geoffrey
- comes on Saturday, I am sure he can manage to take me there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be a festival day indeed when you meet!” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said he thoughtfully. Then returning to the former subject, “But
- how long is it, Henrietta? This is the twenty-seventh of March, is it
- not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; a whole quarter of a year you have been laid up here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was somewhere about the beginning of February that Uncle Geoffrey
- went.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The fourth,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it was three days after he went away that mamma had those first
- spasms. Henrietta, she has been six weeks ill!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” said Henrietta, “you know she was five weeks without stirring out
- of the room, that last time she was ill at Rocksand, and she is getting
- better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t think it is getting better,” said Fred. “You always say so, but I
- don’t think you have anything to show for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You might say the same for yourself,” said Henrietta, laughing. “You have
- been getting better these three months, poor man, and you need not boast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, at least I can show something for it,” said Fred; “they allow me a
- lark’s diet instead of a wren’s, I can hold up my head like other people
- now, and I actually made my own legs and the table’s carry me to the
- window yesterday, which is what I call getting on. But I do not think it
- is so with mamma. A fortnight ago she used to be up by ten or eleven
- o’clock; now I don’t believe she ever is till one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It has been close, damp weather,” said Henrietta, surprised at the
- accurate remembrance, which she could not confute. “She misses the cold
- bracing wind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t like it,” said Fred, growing silent, and after a short interval
- beginning again more earnestly, “Henrietta, neither you nor any one else
- are keeping anything from me, I trust?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, no, no!” said Henrietta, eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are quite sure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite,” responded she. “You know all I know, every bit; and I know all
- Aunt Geoffrey does, I am sure I do, for she always tells me what Mr.
- Philip Carey says. I have heard Uncle and Aunt Geoffrey both say strong
- things about keeping people in the dark, and I am convinced they would not
- do so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t think they would,” said Fred; “but I am not satisfied. Recollect
- and tell me clearly, are they convinced that this is only recovering
- slowly—I do not mean that; I know too well that this is not a thing
- to be got rid of; but do they think that she is going to be as well as
- usual?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do,” said Henrietta, “and you know I am more used to her illness than
- any of them. Bennet and I were agreeing to-day that, considering how bad
- the spasms were, and how much fatigue she had been going through, we could
- not expect her to get on faster.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do? But that is not Aunt Geoffrey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O! Aunt Geoffrey is anxious, and expected her to get on faster, just like
- Busy Bee expecting everything to be so quick; but I am sure you could not
- get any more information from her than from me, and impressions—I am
- sure you may trust mine, used as I am to watch mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred asked no more; but it was observable that from that day he never lost
- one of his mother’s little notes, placing them as soon as read in his
- pocket-book, and treasuring them carefully. He also begged Henrietta to
- lend him a miniature of her mother, taken at the time of her marriage. It
- represented her in all her youthful loveliness, with the long ringlets and
- plaits of dark brown hair hanging on her neck, the arch suppressed smile
- on her lips, and the laughing light in her deep blue eye. He looked at it
- for a little while, and then asked Henrietta if she thought that she could
- find, among the things sent from Rocksand which had not yet been unpacked,
- another portrait, taken in the earlier months of her widowhood, when she
- had in some partial degree recovered from her illness, but her life seemed
- still to hang on a thread. Mrs. Vivian, at whose especial desire it had
- been taken, had been very fond of it, and had always kept it in her room,
- and Fred was very anxious to see it again. After a long search, with
- Bennet’s help, Henrietta found it, and brought it to him. Thin, wan, and
- in the deep black garments, there was much more general resemblance to her
- present appearance in this than in the portrait of the beautiful smiling
- bride. “And yet,” said Fred, as he compared them, “do not you think,
- Henrietta, that there is more of mamma in the first?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see what you mean,” said Henrietta. “You know it is by a much better
- artist.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said he, “the other is like enough in feature,—more so
- certainly to anything we have ever seen: but what a difference! And yet
- what is it? Look! Her eyes generally have something melancholy in their
- look, and yet I am sure those bright happy ones put me much more in mind
- of hers than these, looking so weighed down with sorrow. And the sweet
- smile, that is quite her own!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you could but see her now, Fred,” said Henrietta, “I think you would
- indeed say so. She has now and then a beautiful little pink flush, that
- lights up her eyes as well as her cheeks; and when she smiles and talks
- about those old times with papa, she does really look just like the
- miniature, all but her thinness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not half like to hear of all that talking about my father,” murmured
- Fred to himself as he leant back. Henrietta at first opened her eyes; then
- a sudden perception of his meaning flashed over her, and she began to
- speak of something else as fast as she could.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey came on Saturday afternoon, and after paying a minute’s
- visit to Fred, had a conference of more than an hour with his
- sister-in-law. Fred did not seem pleased with his sister’s information
- that “it was on business,” and only was in a slight degree reassured by
- being put in mind that there was always something to settle at Lady-day.
- Henrietta thought her uncle looked grave; and as she was especially
- anxious to prevent either herself or Fred from being frightened, she would
- not leave him alone in Fred’s room, knowing full well that no questions
- would be asked except in private—none at least of the description
- which she dreaded.
- </p>
- <p>
- All Fred attempted was the making his long-mediated request that he might
- visit his mother, and Uncle Geoffrey undertook to see whether it was
- possible. Numerous messages passed, and at length it was arranged that on
- Sunday, just before afternoon service, when the house was quiet, his uncle
- should help him to her room, where his aunt would read to them both.
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederick made quite a preparation for what was to him a great
- undertaking. He sat counting the hours all the morning; and when at length
- the time arrived, his heart beat so violently, that it seemed to take away
- all the little strength he had. His uncle came in, but waited a few
- moments; then said, with some hesitation, “Fred, you must be prepared to
- see her a good deal altered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Fred, impatiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And take the greatest care not to agitate her. Can you be trusted? I do
- not ask it for your own sake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Fred, resolutely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And in process of time Fred was at her door. There he quitted his uncle’s
- arm, and came forward alone to the large easy chair where she sat by the
- fire-side. She started joyfully forward, and soon he was on one knee
- before her, her arms round his neck, her tears dropping on his face, and a
- quiet sense of excessive happiness felt by both. Then rising, he sank back
- into another great chair, which his sister had arranged for him close to
- hers, and too much out of breath to speak, he passively let Henrietta make
- him comfortable there; while holding his mother’s hand, he kept his eyes
- fixed upon her, and she, anxious only for him, patted his cushions,
- offered her own, and pushed her footstool towards him.
- </p>
- <p>
- A few words passed between Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford outside the
- door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I still think it a great risk,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I should not feel justified in preventing it,” was his answer, “only
- do not leave them long alone.” Then opening the door he called,
- “Henrietta, there is the last bell.” And Henrietta, much against her will,
- was obliged to go with him to Church.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-bye, my dear,” said her mother. “Think of us prisoners in the right
- way at Church, and not in the wrong one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Strangely came the sound of the Church bell to their ears through the
- window, half open to admit the breezy breath of spring; the cawing of the
- rooks and the song of the blackbird came with it; the sky was clear and
- blue, the buds were bursting into life.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How very lovely it is!” added she.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred made a brief reply, but without turning his head to the window. His
- eyes, his thoughts, his whole soul, were full of the contemplation of what
- was to him a thousand times more lovely,—that frail wasted form,
- namely, whose hand he held. The delicate pink colour which Henrietta had
- described was on her cheek, contrasting with the ivory whiteness of the
- rest of her face; the blue eyes shone with a sweet subdued brightness
- under their long black lashes; the lips smiled, though languidly yet as
- sunnily as ever; the dark hair lay in wavy lines along the sides of her
- face; and but for the helplessness with which the figure rested in the
- chair, there was less outward token of suffering than he had often seen
- about her,—more appearance almost of youth and beauty. But it was
- not an earthly beauty; there was something about it which filled him with
- a kind of indescribable undefined awe, together with dread of a sorrow
- towards which he shrank from looking. She thought him fatigued with the
- exertion he had made, and allowed him to rest, while she contemplated with
- pleasure even the slight advances which he had already made in shaking off
- the traces of illness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The silence was not broken till Aunt Geoffrey came in, just as the last
- stroke of the Church-bell died away, bringing in her hand a fragrant spray
- of the budding sweet-briar.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The bees are coming out with you, Freddy,” said she. “I have just been
- round the garden watching them revelling in the crocuses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How delicious!” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, to whom she had offered the
- sweet-briar. “Give it to him, poor fellow; he is quite knocked up with his
- journey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, not in the least, mamma, thank you,” said Fred, sitting up
- vigorously; “you do not know how strong I am growing.” And then turning to
- the window, he made an effort, and began observing on her rook’s nest, as
- she called it, and her lilac buds. Then came a few more cheerful questions
- and comments on the late notes, and then Mrs. Frederick Langford proposed
- that the reading of the service should begin.
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Geoffrey, kneeling at the table, read the prayers, and Fred took the
- alternate verses of the Psalms. It was the last day of the month, and as
- he now and then raised his eyes to his mother’s face, he saw her lips
- follow the glorious responses in those psalms of praise, and a glistening
- in her lifted eyes such as he could never forget.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He healeth those that are broken in heart, and giveth medicine to heal
- their sickness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their names.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He read this verse as he had done many a time before, without thinking of
- the exceeding beauty of the manner in which it is connected with the
- former one; but in after years he never read it again without that whole
- room rising before his eyes, and above all his mother’s face. It was a
- sweet soft light, and not a gloom, that rested round that scene in his
- memory; springtide sights and sounds; the beams of the declining sun, with
- its quiet spring radiance; the fresh mild air; even the bright fire, and
- the general look of calm cheerfulness which pervaded all around, all
- conduced to that impression which never left him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The service ended, Aunt Geoffrey read the hymn for the day in the
- “Christian Year,” and then left them for a few minutes; but strange as it
- may seem, those likewise were spent in silence, and though there was some
- conversation when she returned, Fred took little share in it. Silent as he
- was, he could hardly believe that he had been there more than ten minutes,
- when sounds were heard of the rest of the family returning from Church,
- and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford went down to meet them.
- </p>
- <p>
- In another instant Henrietta came up, very bright and joyous, with many
- kind messages from Aunt Roger. Next came Uncle Geoffrey, who, after a few
- cheerful observations on the beauty of the day, to which his sister
- responded with pleasure, said, “Now, Freddy, I must be hard-hearted; I am
- coming back almost directly to carry you off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So soon!” exclaimed Henrietta. “Am I to be cheated of all the pleasure of
- seeing you together?”
- </p>
- <p>
- No one seemed to attend to her; but as soon as the door had closed behind
- his uncle, Fred moved as if to speak, paused, hesitated, then bent
- forward, and, shading his face with his hand, said in a low voice, “Mamma,
- say you forgive me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She held out her arm, and again he sank on his knee, resting his head
- against her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My own dear boy,” said she, “I will not say I have nothing to forgive,
- for that I know is not what you want; but well do you know how freely
- forgiven and forgotten is all that you may ever feel to have been against
- my wish. God bless you, my own dear Frederick!” she added, pressing her
- hand upon his head. “His choicest blessings be with you forever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey’s knock was heard; Frederick hastily rose to his feet, was
- folded in one more long embrace, then, without another word, suffered his
- uncle to lead him out of the room, and support him back to his own. He
- stretched himself on the sofa, turned his face inwards, and gave two or
- three long gasping sighs, as if completely overpowered, though his uncle
- could scarcely determine whether by grief or by physical exhaustion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta looked frightened, but her uncle made her a sign to say nothing:
- and after watching him anxiously for some minutes, during which he
- remained perfectly still, her uncle left the room, and she sat down to
- watch for him, taking up a book, for she dreaded the reveries in which she
- had once been so prone to indulge. Fred remained for a long time tranquil,
- if not asleep; and when at length he was disturbed, complained that his
- head ached, and seemed chiefly anxious to be left in quiet. It might be
- that, in addition to his great weariness, he felt a charm upon him which
- he could not bear to break. At any rate, he scarcely looked up or spoke
- all the rest of the evening, excepting that, when he went to bed, he sent
- a message that he hoped Uncle Geoffrey would come to his room the next
- morning before setting off, as he was obliged to do at a very early hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- He came, and found Fred awake, looking white and heavy-eyed, as if he had
- slept little, and allowing that his head still ached.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Uncle Geoffrey,” said he, raising himself on his elbow, and looking at
- him earnestly, “would it be of no use to have further advice?”
- </p>
- <p>
- His uncle understood him, and answered, “I hope that Dr. ——
- will come this evening or to-morrow morning. But,” added he, slowly and
- kindly, “you must not build your hopes upon that, Fred. It is more from
- the feeling that nothing should be untried, than from the expectation that
- he can be of use.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then there is no hope?” said Fred, with a strange quietness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Man can do nothing,” answered his uncle. “You know how the case stands;
- the complaint cannot be reached, and there is scarcely a probability of
- its becoming inactive. It may be an affair of days or weeks, or she may
- yet rally, and be spared to us for some time longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could but think so!” said Fred. “But I cannot. Her face will not let
- me hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If ever a ray from heaven shone out upon a departing saint,” said Uncle
- Geoffrey,—but he could not finish the sentence, and turning away,
- walked to the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you must go?” said Fred, when he came back to his side again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must,” said Uncle Geoffrey. “Nothing but the most absolute necessity
- could make me leave you now. I scarcely could feel myself an honest man if
- I was not in my place to-morrow. I shall be here again on Thursday, at
- latest, and bring Beatrice. Your mother thinks she may be a comfort to
- Henrietta.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta knows all this?” asked Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As far as she will bear to believe it,” said his uncle. “We cannot grudge
- her her unconsciousness, but I am afraid it will be worse for her in the
- end. You must nerve yourself, Fred, to support her. Now, good-bye, and may
- God bless and strengthen you in your trial!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred was left alone again to the agony of the bitterest thoughts he had
- ever known. All his designs of devoting himself to her at an end! Her whom
- he loved with such an intensity of enthusiastic admiration and reverence,—the
- gentlest, the most affectionate, the most beautiful being he knew! Who
- would ever care for him as she did? To whom would it matter now whether he
- was in danger or in safety? whether he distinguished himself or not? And
- how thoughtlessly had he trifled with her comfort, for the mere pleasure
- of a moment, and even fancied himself justified in doing so! Even her
- present illness, had it not probably been brought on by her anxiety and
- attendance on him? and it was his own wilful disobedience to which all
- might be traced. It was no wonder that, passing from one such miserable
- thought to another, his bodily weakness was considerably increased, and he
- remained very languid and unwell; so much so that had Philip Carey ever
- presumed to question anything Mr. Geoffrey Langford thought fit to do, he
- would have pronounced yesterday’s visit a most imprudent measure. In the
- afternoon, as Fred was lying on his sofa, he heard a foot on the stairs,
- and going along the passage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is that?” said he; “the new doctor already? It is a strange step.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O! Fred, don’t be the fairy Fine Ear, as you used to be when you were at
- the worst,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But do you know who it is?” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is Mr. Franklin,” said Henrietta. “You know mamma has only been once
- at Church since your accident, and then there was no Holy Communion. So
- you must not fancy she is worse, Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish we were confirmed,” said Fred, sighing, and presently adding, “My
- Prayer-Book, if you please, Henrietta.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will only make your head worse, with trying to read the small print,”
- said she; “I will read anything you want to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He chose nevertheless to have it himself, and when he next spoke, it was
- to say, “I wish, when Mr. Franklin leaves her, you would ask him to come
- to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta did not like the proposal at all, and said all she could against
- it; but Fred persisted, and made her at last undertake to ask Aunt
- Geoffrey’s consent. Even then she would have done her best to miss the
- opportunity; but Fred heard the first sounds, and she was obliged to fetch
- Mr. Franklin. The conference was not long, and she found no reason to
- regret that it had taken place; for Fred did not seem so much oppressed
- and weighted down when she again returned to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The physician who had been sent for arrived. He had seen Mrs. Frederick
- Langford some years before, and well understood her case, and his opinion
- was now exactly what Fred had been prepared by his uncle to expect. It was
- impossible to conjecture how long she might yet survive: another attack
- might come at any moment, and be the last. It might be deferred for weeks
- or months, or even now it was possible that she might rally, and return to
- her usual state of health.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was on this possibility, or as she chose to hear the word, probability,
- that Henrietta fixed her whole mind. The rest was to her as if unsaid; she
- would not hear nor believe it, and shunned anything that brought the least
- impression of the kind. The only occasion when she would avow her fears
- even to herself, was when she knelt in prayer; and then how wild and
- unsubmissive were her petitions! How embittered and wretched she would
- feel at her own powerlessness! Then the next minute she would drive off
- her fears as by force; call up a vision of a brightly smiling future;
- think, speak, and act as if hiding her eyes would prevent the approach of
- the enemy she dreaded.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her grandmamma was as determined as herself to hope; and her grandpapa,
- though fully alive to the real state of the case, could not bear to sadden
- her before the time, and let her talk on and build schemes for the future,
- till he himself almost caught a glance of her hopes, and his deep sigh was
- the only warning she received from him. Fred, too weak for much argument,
- and not unwilling to rejoice now and then in an illusion, was easily
- silenced, and Aunt Geoffrey had no time for anyone but the patient. Her
- whole thought, almost her whole being, was devoted to “Mary,” the friend,
- the sister of her childhood, whom she now attended upon with something of
- the reverent devotedness with which an angel might be watched and served,
- were it to make a brief sojourn upon earth; feeling it a privilege each
- day that she was still permitted to attend her, and watching for each
- passing word and expression as a treasure to be dwelt on in many a
- subsequent year.
- </p>
- <p>
- It could not be thus with Henrietta, bent on seeing no illness, on marking
- no traces of danger; shutting her eyes to all the tokens that her mother
- was not to be bound down to earth for ever. She found her always cheerful,
- ready to take interest in all that pleased her, and still with the
- playfulness which never failed to light up all that approached her. A
- flower,—what pleasure it gave her! and how sweet her smile would be!
- </p>
- <p>
- It was on the evening of the day after the physician’s visit, that
- Henrietta came in talking, with the purpose of, as she fancied, cheering
- her mother’s spirits, of some double lilac primroses which Mrs. Langford
- had promised her for the garden at the Pleasance. Her mamma smelt the
- flowers, admired them, and smiled as she said, “Your papa planted a root
- of those in my little garden the first summer I was here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I am sure you will like to have them at the Pleasance, mamma.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear child,”—she paused, while Henrietta started, and gazed upon
- her, frightened at the manner—“you must not build upon our favourite
- old plan; you must prepare—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O but, mamma, you are better! You are so much better than two days ago;
- and these clear days do you so much good; and it is all so bright.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks to Him Who has made it bright!” said her mother, taking her hand.
- “But I fear, my own dearest, that it will seem far otherwise to you. I
- want you to make up your mind—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta broke vehemently upon the feeble accents. “Mamma! mamma! you
- must not speak so! It is the worst thing people can do to think
- despondingly of themselves. Aunt Geoffrey, do tell her so!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Despondingly! my child; you little know what the thought is to me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The words were almost whispered, and Henrietta scarcely marked them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, you must not! It is too cruel to me,—I can’t bear it!” she
- cried; the tears in her eyes, and a violence of agitation about her, which
- her mother, feeble as she was, could not attempt to contend with. She
- rested her head on her cushions, and silently and mournfully followed with
- her eyes the hasty trembling movements of her daughter, who continued to
- arrange the things on the table, and make desperate attempts to regain her
- composure; but completely failing, caught up her bonnet, and hurried out
- of the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor dear child,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford, “I wish she was more
- prepared. Beatrice, the comforting her is the dearest and saddest task I
- leave you. Fred, poor fellow, is prepared, and will bear up like a man;
- but it will come fearfully upon her. And Henrietta and I have been more
- like sisters than mother and daughter. If she would only bear to hear me—but
- no, if I were to be overcome while speaking to her, it might give her pain
- in the recollection. Beatrice, you must tell her all I would say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must tell her, Beatrice, that I was as undisciplined as she is now.
- Tell her how I have come to rejoice in the great affliction of my life:
- how little I knew how to bear it when Frederick was taken from me and his
- children, in the prime of his health and strength. You remember how
- crushed to the ground I was, and how it was said that my life was saved
- chiefly by the calmness that came with the full belief that I was dying.
- And O! how my spirit rebelled when I found myself recovering! Do you
- remember the first day I went to Church to return thanks?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was after we were gone home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! yes. I had put it off longer than I ought, because I felt so utterly
- unable to join in the service. The sickness of heart that came with those
- verses of thanksgiving! All I could do was to pray to be forgiven for not
- being able to follow them. Now I can own with all my heart the mercy that
- would not grant my blind wish for death. My treasure was indeed in heaven,
- but O! it was not the treasure that was meant. I was forgetting my mother,
- and so selfish and untamed was I, that I was almost forgetting my poor
- babies! Yes, tell her this, Beatrice, and tell her that, if duties and
- happiness sprang up all around me, forlorn and desolate as I thought
- myself, so much the more will they for her; and ‘at evening time there
- shall be light.’ Tell her that I look to her for guiding and influencing
- Fred. She must never let a week pass without writing to him, and she must
- have the honoured office of waiting on the old age of her grandfather and
- grandmother. I think she will be a comfort to them, do not you? They are
- fond of her, and she seems to suit them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I have little doubt that she will be everything to them. I have
- especially noted her ways with Mrs. Langford, they are so exactly what I
- have tried to teach Beatrice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear little Busy Bee! I am glad she is coming; but in case I should not
- see her, give her her godmother’s love, and tell her that she and
- Henrietta must be what their mammas have been to each other; and that I
- trust that after thirty-five years’ friendship, they will still have as
- much confidence in one another as I have in you, my own dear Beatrice. I
- have written her name in one of these books,” she added after a short
- interval, touching some which were always close to her. “And, Beatrice,
- one thing more I had to say,” she proceeded, taking up a Bible, and
- finding out a place in it. “Geoffrey has always been a happy prosperous
- man, as he well deserves; but if ever trouble should come to him in his
- turn, then show him this.” She pointed out the verse, “Be as a father to
- the fatherless, and instead of a husband to their mother; so shalt thou be
- as the son of the Most High, and He shall love thee more than thy mother
- doth.” “Show him that, and tell him it is his sister Mary’s last
- blessing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- On Thursday morning, Henrietta began to awake from her sound night’s rest.
- Was it a dream that she saw a head between her and the window? She thought
- it was, and turned to sleep again; but at her movement the head turned,
- the figure advanced, and Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stood over her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta opened her eyes, and gazed upon her without saying a word for
- some moments; then, as her senses awakened, she half sprung up. “How is
- mamma? Does she want me? Why?” Her aunt made an effort to speak, but it
- seemed beyond her power.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, aunt, aunt!” cried she, “what is the matter? What has happened? Speak
- to me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Henrietta,” said her aunt, in a low, calm, but hoarse tone, “she bade you
- bear up for your brother’s sake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But—but—” said Henrietta, breathlessly; “and she—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear child, she is at rest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta laid her head back, as if completely stunned, and unable to
- realise what she had heard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me,” she said, after a few moments.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her aunt knelt by her and steadily, without a tear, began to speak. “It
- was at half-past twelve; she had been asleep some little time very
- quietly. I was just going to lie down on the sofa, when I thought her face
- looked different, and stood watching. She woke, said she felt oppressed,
- and asked me to raise her pillows. While she was leaning against my arm,
- there was a spasm, a shiver, and she was gone! Yes, we must only think of
- her as in perfect peace!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta lay motionless for some moments, then at last broke out with a
- sort of anger, “O, why did you not call me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was not one instant, my dear, and I could not ring, for fear of
- disturbing Fred. I could not call any one till it was too late.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, why was I not there? I would—I would—she must have heard
- me. I would not have let her go. O, mamma!” cried Henrietta, almost
- unconscious of what she said, and bursting into a transport of
- ungovernable grief; sobbing violently and uttering wild incoherent
- exclamations. Her aunt tried in vain to soothe her by kind words, but all
- she said seemed only to add impulse to the torrent; and at last she found
- herself obliged to wait till the violence of the passion had in some
- degree exhausted itself; and young, strong, and undisciplined as poor
- Henrietta was, this was not quickly. At last, however, the sobs grew less
- loud, and the exclamations less vehement. Aunt Geoffrey thought she could
- be heard, leant down over her, kissed her, and said, “Now we must pray
- that we may fulfil her last desire; bear it patiently, and try to help
- your brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fred, O poor Fred!” and she seemed on the point of another burst of
- lamentation, but her aunt went on speaking—“I must go to him; he has
- yet to hear it, and you had better come to him as soon as you are
- dressed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O aunt; I could not bear to see him. It will kill him, I know it will! O
- no, no, I cannot, cannot see Fred! O, mamma, mamma!” A fresh fit of
- weeping succeeded, and Mrs. Langford herself feeling most deeply, was in
- great doubt and perplexity; she did not like to leave Henrietta in this
- condition, and yet there was an absolute necessity that she should go to
- poor Fred, before any chance accident or mischance should reveal the
- truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must leave you, my dear,” said she, at last. “Think how your dear
- mother bowed her head to His will. Pray to your Father in Heaven, Who
- alone can comfort you. I must go to your brother, and when I return, I
- hope you will be more composed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The pain of witnessing the passionate sorrow of Henrietta was no good
- preparation for carrying the same tidings to one, whose bodily weakness
- made it to be feared that he might suffer even more; but Mrs. Geoffrey
- Langford feared to lose her composure by stopping to reflect, and hastened
- down from Henrietta’s room with a hurried step.
- </p>
- <p>
- She knocked at Fred’s door, and was answered by his voice. As she entered
- he looked at her with anxious eyes, and before she could speak, said, “I
- know what you are come to tell me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Fred,” said she; “but how?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was sure of it,” said Fred. “I knew I should never see her again; and
- there were sounds this morning. Did not I hear poor Henrietta crying?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She has been crying very much,” said his aunt.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! she would never believe it,” said Fred. “But after last Sunday—O,
- no one could look at that face, and think she was to stay here any
- longer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We could not wish it for her sake,” said his aunt, for the first time
- feeling almost overcome.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me hear how it was,” said Frederick, after a pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- His aunt repeated what she had before told Henrietta, and then he asked
- quickly, “What did you do? I did not hear you ring.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, that was what I was afraid of. I was going to call some one, when I
- met grandpapa, who was just going up. He came with me, and—and was
- very kind—then he sent me to lie down; but I could not sleep, and
- went to wait for Henrietta’s waking.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Fred gave a long, deep, heavy sigh, and said, “Poor Henrietta! Is she very
- much overcome?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So much, that I hardly know how to leave her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t stay with me, then, Aunt Geoffrey. It is very kind in you, but I
- don’t think anything is much good to me.” He hid his face as he spoke
- thus, in a tone of the deepest dejection.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing but prayer, my dear Fred,” said she, gently. “Then I will go to
- your sister again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you.” And she had reached the door when he asked, “When does Uncle
- Geoffrey come?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the four o’clock train,” she answered, and moved on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Frederick hid his head under the clothes, and gave way to a burst of
- agony, which, silent as it was, was even more intense than his sister’s.
- O! the blank that life seemed without her look, her voice, her tone! the
- frightful certainty that he should never see her more! Then it would for a
- moment seem utterly incredible that she should thus have passed away; but
- then returned the conviction, and he felt as if he could not even exist
- under it. But this excessive oppression and consciousness of misery seemed
- chiefly to come upon him when alone. In the presence of another person he
- could talk in the same quiet matter-of-fact way in which he had already
- done to his aunt; and the blow itself, sudden as it was, did not affect
- his health as the first anticipation of it had done. With Henrietta things
- were quite otherwise. When alone she was quiet, in a sort of stupor, in
- which she scarcely even thought; but the entrance of any person into her
- room threw her into a fresh paroxysm of grief, ever increasing in
- vehemence; then she was quieted a little, and was left to herself, but she
- could not, or would not, turn where alone comfort could be found, and
- repelled, almost as if it was an insult to her affection, any entreaty
- that she would even try to be comforted. Above all, in the perverse-ness
- of her undisciplined affliction, she persisted in refusing to see her
- brother. “She should do him harm,” she said. “No, it was utterly
- impossible for her to control herself so as not to do him harm.” And
- thereupon her sobs and tears redoubled. She would not touch a morsel of
- food; she would not consent to leave her bed when asked to do so, though
- ten minutes after, in the restlessness of her misery, she was found
- walking up and down her room in her dressing-gown.
- </p>
- <p>
- Never had Mrs. Geoffrey Langford known a more trying day. Old Mr.
- Langford, who had loved “Mary” like his own child, did indeed bear up
- under the affliction with all his own noble spirit of Christian
- submission; but, excepting by his sympathy, he could be of little
- assistance to her in the many painful offices which fell to her share.
- Mrs. Langford walked about the house, active as ever; now sitting down in
- her chair, and bursting into a flood of tears for “poor Mary,” or “dear
- Frederick,” all the sorrow for whose loss seemed renewed; then rising
- vigorously, saying, “Well, it is His will; it is all for the best!” and
- hastening away to see how Henrietta and Fred were, to make some
- arrangement about mourning, or to get Geoffrey’s room ready for him. And
- in all these occupations she wanted Beatrice to consult, or to sympathise,
- or to promise that Geoffrey would like and approve what she did. In the
- course of the morning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Langford came from Sutton Leigh,
- and the latter, by taking the charge of, talking to, and assisting Mrs.
- Langford, greatly relieved her sister-in-law. Still there were the two
- young mourners. Henrietta was completely unmanageable, only resting now
- and then to break forth with more violence; and her sorrow far too selfish
- and unsubmissive to be soothed either by the thought of Him Who sent it,
- or of the peace and rest to which that beloved one was gone; and as once
- the anxiety for her brother had swallowed up all care for her mother, so
- now grief for her mother absorbed every consideration for Frederick; so
- that it was useless to attempt to persuade her to make any exertion for
- his sake. Nothing seemed in any degree to tranquillize her except Aunt
- Geoffrey’s reading to her; and then it was only that she was lulled by the
- sound of the voice, not that the sense reached her mind. But then, how go
- on reading to her all day, when poor Fred was left in his lonely room, to
- bear his own share of sorrow in solitude? For though Mr. and Mrs.
- Langford, and Uncle and Aunt Roger, made him many brief kind visits, they
- all of them had either too much on their hands, or were unfitted by
- disposition to be the companions he wanted. It was only Aunt Geoffrey who
- could come and sit by him, and tell him all those precious sayings of his
- mother in her last days, which in her subdued low voice renewed that idea
- of perfect peace and repose which came with the image of his mother, and
- seemed to still the otherwise overpowering thought that she was gone. But
- in the midst the door would open, and grandmamma would come in, looking
- much distressed, with some such request as this—“Beatrice, if Fred
- can spare you, would you just go up to poor Henrietta? I thought she was
- better, and that it was as well to do it at once; so I went to ask her for
- one of her dresses, to send for a pattern for her mourning, and that has
- set her off crying to such a degree, that Elizabeth and I can do nothing
- with her. I wish Geoffrey was come!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Nothing was expressed so often through the day as this wish, and no one
- wished more earnestly than his wife, though, perhaps, she was the only
- person who did not say so a dozen times. There was something cheering in
- hearing that his brother had actually set off to meet him at Allonfield;
- and at length Fred’s sharpened ears caught the sound of the carriage
- wheels, and he was come. It seemed as if he was considered by all as their
- own exclusive property. His mother had one of her quick, sudden bursts of
- lamentation as soon as she saw him; his brother, as usual, wanted to talk
- to him; Fred was above all eager for him; and it was only his father who
- seemed even to recollect that his wife might want him more than all. And
- so she did. Her feelings were very strong and impetuous by nature, and the
- loss was one of the greatest she could have sustained. Nothing save her
- husband and her child was so near to her heart as her sister; and worn out
- as she was by long attendance, sleepless nights, and this trying day, when
- all seemed to rest upon her, she now completely gave way, and was no
- sooner alone with her husband and daughter, than her long repressed
- feelings relieved themselves in a flood of tears, which, though silent,
- were completely beyond her own control. Now that he was come, she could,
- and indeed must, give way; and the more she attempted to tell him of the
- peacefulness of her own dear Mary, the more her tears would stream forth.
- He saw how it was, and would not let her even reproach herself for her
- weakness, or attempt any longer to exert herself; but made her lie down on
- her bed, and told her that he and Queen Bee could manage very well.
- </p>
- <p>
- Queen Bee stood there pale, still, and bewildered-looking. She had
- scarcely spoken since she heard of her aunt’s death; and new as affliction
- was to her sunny life, scarce knew where she was, or whether this was her
- own dear Knight Sutton; and even her mother’s grief seemed to her almost
- more like a dream.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, yes,” said Mrs. Geoffrey Langford, as soon as her daughter had been
- named, “I ought to have sent you to Henrietta before.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” said Beatrice, though her heart sank within her as she
- thought of her last attempt at consoling Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go straight up to her,” continued her mother; “don’t wait to let her
- think whether she will see you or not. I only wish poor Fred could do the
- same.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could but do her any good,” sighed Beatrice, as she opened the door
- and hastened upstairs. She knocked, and entered without waiting for an
- answer: Henrietta lifted up her head, came forward with a little cry,
- threw herself into her arms, and wept bitterly. Mournful as all around
- was, there was a bright ray of comfort in Queen Bee’s heart when she was
- thus hailed as a friend and comforter. She only wished and longed to know
- what might best serve to console her poor Henrietta; but all that occurred
- to her was to embrace and fondle her very affectionately, and call her by
- the most caressing names. This was all that Henrietta was as yet fit to
- bear; and after a time, growing quieter, she poured out to her cousin all
- her grief, without fear of blame for its violence. Beatrice was sometimes
- indeed startled by the want of all idea of resignation, but she could not
- believe that any one could feel otherwise,—least of all Henrietta,
- who had lost her only parent, and that parent Aunt Mary. Neither did she
- feel herself good enough to talk seriously to Henrietta; she considered
- herself as only sent to sit with her, so she did not make any attempt to
- preach the resignation which was so much wanted; and Henrietta, who had
- all day been hearing of it, and rebelling against it, was almost grateful
- to her. So Henrietta talked and talked, the same repeated lamentation, the
- same dreary views of the future coming over and over again; and Beatrice’s
- only answer was to agree with all her heart to all that was said of her
- own dear Aunt Mary, and to assure Henrietta of the fervent love that was
- still left for her in so many hearts on earth.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hours passed on; Beatrice was called away and Henrietta was inclined
- to be fretful at her leaving her; but she presently returned, and the same
- discourse was renewed, until at last Beatrice began to read to her, and
- thus did much to soothe her spirits, persuaded her to make a tolerable
- meal at tea-time, bathed her eyelids that were blistered with tears, put
- her to bed, and finally read her to sleep. Then, as she crept quietly down
- to inquire after her mamma, and wish the others in the drawing-room good
- night, she reflected whether she had done what she ought for her cousin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have not put a single right or really consoling thought into her head,”
- said she to herself; “for as to the reading, she did not attend to that.
- But after all I could not have done it. I must be better myself before I
- try to improve other people; and it is not what I deserve to be allowed to
- be any comfort at all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Thanks partly to Beatrice’s possessing no rightful authority over
- Henrietta, partly to the old habit of relying on her, she contrived to
- make her get up and dress herself at the usual time next morning. But
- nothing would prevail on her to go down stairs. She said she could not
- endure to pass “that door,” where ever before the fondest welcome awaited
- her; and as to seeing her brother, that having been deferred yesterday,
- seemed to-day doubly dreadful. The worst of this piece of perverseness—for
- it really deserved no better name—was that it began to vex Fred.
- “But that I know how to depend upon you, Uncle Geoffrey,” said he, “I
- should really think she must be ill. I never knew anything so strange.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Geoffrey resolved to put an end to it, if possible; and soon after
- leaving Fred’s room he knocked at his niece’s door. She was sitting by the
- fire with a book in her hand, but not reading.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good morning, my dear,” said he, taking her languid hand. “I bring you a
- message from Fred, that he hopes you are soon coming down to see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned away her head. “Poor dear Fred!” said she; “but it is quite
- impossible. I cannot bear it as he does; I should only overset him and do
- him harm.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And why cannot you bear it as he does?” said her uncle gravely. “You do
- not think his affection for her was less? and you have all the advantages
- of health and strength.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no one can feel as I do!” cried Henrietta, with one of her passionate
- outbreaks. “O how I loved her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fred did not love her less,” proceeded her uncle. “And why will you leave
- him in sorrow and in weakness to doubt the sister’s love that should be
- his chief stay?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He does not doubt it,” sobbed Henrietta. “He knows me better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, Henrietta, what reason has he to trust to that affection which is
- not strong enough to overcome the dread of a few moments’ painful
- emotion?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, but it is not that only! I shall feel it all so much more out of this
- room, where she has never been; but to see the rest of the house—to
- go past her door! O, uncle, I have not the strength for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, your affection for him is not strong enough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta’s pale cheeks flushed, and her tears were angry. “You do not
- know me, Uncle Geoffrey,” said she proudly, and then she almost choked
- with weeping at unkindness where she most expected kindness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know this much of you, Henrietta. You have been nursing up your grief
- and encouraging yourself in murmuring and repining, in a manner which you
- will one day see to have been sinful: you are obstinate in making yourself
- useless.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta, little used to blame, was roused to defend herself with the
- first weapon she could. “Aunt Geoffrey is just as much knocked up as I
- am,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- If ever Uncle Geoffrey was made positively angry, he was so now, though if
- he had not thought it good that Henrietta should be roused, he would have
- repressed even such demonstrations as he made. “Henrietta, this is too
- bad! Has she been weakly yielding?—has she been shutting herself up
- in her room, and keeping aloof from those who most needed her, lest she
- should pain her own feelings? Have not you rather been perplexing and
- distressing, and harassing her with your wilful selfishness, refusing to
- do the least thing to assist her in the care of your own brother, after
- she has been wearing herself out in watching over your mother? And now,
- when her strength and spirits are exhausted by the exertions she has made
- for you and yours, and I have been obliged to insist on her resting, you
- fancy her example an excuse for you! Is this the way your mother would
- have acted? I see arguing with you does you no good: I have no more to
- say.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He got up, opened the door, and went out: Henrietta, dismayed at the
- accusation but too well founded on her words, had but one thought, that
- she should not deem her regardless of his kindness. “Uncle Geoffrey!” she
- cried, “O, uncle—” but he was gone; and forgetting everything else,
- she flew after him down the stairs, and before she recollected anything
- else, she found herself standing in the hall, saying, “O uncle, do not
- think I meant that!”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment her grandpapa came out of the drawing-room. “Henrietta!”
- said he, “I am glad to see you downstairs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Henrietta hastily returned his kiss, and looked somewhat confused; then
- laying her hand entreatingly on her uncle’s arm, said, “Only say you are
- not angry with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, Henrietta, not if you will act like a rational person,” said he
- with something of a smile, which she could not help returning in her
- surprise at finding herself downstairs after all.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you do not imagine me ungrateful?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not when you are in your right senses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ungrateful!” exclaimed Mr. Langford. “What is he accusing you of,
- Henrietta? What is the meaning of all this?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “but that Henrietta and I have both been
- somewhat angry with each other; but we have made it up now, have we not,
- Henrietta?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was wonderful how much good the very air of the hall was doing
- Henrietta, and how fast it was restoring her energy and power of turning
- her mind to other things. She answered a few remarks of grandpapa’s with
- very tolerable cheerfulness, and even when the hall door opened and
- admitted Uncle and Aunt Roger, she did not run away, but stayed to receive
- their greetings before turning to ascend the stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are not going to shut yourself up in your own room again?” said
- grandpapa.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I was only going to Fred,” said she, growing as desirous of seeing
- him as she had before been averse to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Suppose,” said Uncle Geoffrey, “that you were to take a turn or two round
- the garden first. There is Queen Bee, she will go out with you, and you
- will bring Fred in a fresher face.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will fetch your bonnet,” said Queen Bee, who was standing at the top of
- the stairs, wisely refraining from expressing her astonishment at seeing
- her cousin in the hall.
- </p>
- <p>
- And before Henrietta had time to object, the bonnet was on her head, a
- shawl thrown round her, Beatrice had drawn her arm within hers, and had
- opened the sashed door into the garden.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a regular April day, with all the brilliancy and clearness of the
- sunshine that comes between showers, the white clouds hung in huge soft
- masses on the blue sky, the leaves of the evergreens were glistening with
- drops of rain, the birds sang sweetly in the shrubs around. Henrietta’s
- burning eyes felt refreshed, and though she sighed heavily, she could not
- help admiring, but Beatrice was surprised that the first thing she began
- to say was an earnest inquiry after Aunt Geoffrey, and a warm expression
- of gratitude towards her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the conversation died away again, and they completed their two turns
- in silence; but Henrietta’s heart began to fail her when she thought of
- going in without having her to greet. She lingered and could hardly
- resolve to go, but at length she entered, walked up the stairs, gave her
- shawl and bonnet to Beatrice, and tapped at Fred’s door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that you?” was his eager answer, and as she entered he came forward to
- meet her. “Poor Henrietta!” was all he said, as she put her arm round his
- neck and kissed him, and then leaning on her he returned to his sofa, made
- her sit by him, and showed all sorts of kind solicitude for her comfort.
- She had cried so much that she felt as if she could cry no longer, but she
- reproached herself excessively for having left him to himself so long,
- when all he wanted was to comfort her; and she tried to make some apology.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sorry I did not come sooner, Fred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, it is of no use to talk about it,” said Fred, playing with her long
- curls as she sat on a footstool close to him, just as she used to do in times
- long gone by. “You are come now, and that is all I want. Have you been
- out? I thought I heard the garden door just before you came in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I took two turns with Queen Bee. How bright and sunny it is. And how
- are you this morning, Freddy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, pretty well I think,” said he, sighing, as if he cared little about
- the matter. “I wanted to show you this, Henrietta.” And he took up a book
- where he had marked a passage for her. She saw several paper marks in some
- other books, and perceived with shame that he had been reading yesterday,
- and choosing out what might comfort her, his selfish sister, as she could
- not help feeling herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- And here was the first great point gained, though there was still much for
- Henrietta to learn. It was the first time she had ever been conscious of
- her own selfishness, or perhaps more justly, of her proneness to make all
- give way to her own feeling of the moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
- <!-- H2 anchor --> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX.
- </h2>
- <p>
- There was some question as to who should attend the funeral. Henrietta
- shuddered and trembled all over as if it were a cruelty to mention it
- before her; but Frederick was very desirous that she should be there,
- partly from a sort of feeling that she would represent himself, and partly
- from a strong conviction that it would be good for her. She was willing to
- do anything or everything for him, to make up for her day’s neglect: and
- she consented, though with many tears, and was glad that at least Fred
- seemed satisfied, and her uncle looked pleased with her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Aunt Geoffrey undertook to stay with Fred, and Henrietta, who clung much
- to Beatrice, felt relieved by the thought of her support in such an hour
- of trial. She remembered the day when, with a kind of agreeable emotion,
- she had figured to herself her father’s funeral, little thinking of the
- reality that so soon awaited her, so much worse, as she thought, than what
- any of them could even then have felt; and it seemed to her perfectly
- impossible that she should ever have power to go through with it.
- </p>
- <p>
- In was much, however, that she should have agreed to what in the prospect
- gave her so much pain; and perhaps, for that very reason, she found the
- reality less overwhelming than she had dreaded. Seeing nothing, observing
- nothing, hardly conscious of anything, she walked along, wrapped in one
- absorbing sense of wretchedness; and the first words that “broke the
- stillness of that hour,” healing as they were, seemed but to add certainty
- to that one thought that “she was gone.” But while the Psalms and the
- Lessons were read, the first heavy oppression of grief seemed in some
- degree to grow lighter. She could listen, and the words reached her mind;
- a degree of thankfulness arose to Him Who had wiped away the tears from
- her mother’s eyes, and by Whom the sting of death had been taken away.
- Yes; she had waited in faith, in patience, in meek submission, until now
- her long widowhood was over; and what better for her could those who most
- loved her desire, than that she should safely sleep in the chancel of the
- Church of her childhood, close to him whom she had so loved and so
- mourned, until the time when both should once more awaken,—the
- corruptible should put on incorruption, the mortal should put on
- immortality, and death be swallowed up in victory.
- </p>
- <p>
- Something of this was what Henrietta began to feel; and though the tears
- flowed fast, they were not the bitter drops of personal sorrow. She was
- enabled to bear, without the agony she had expected, the standing round
- the grave in the chancel; nor did her heart swell rebelliously against the
- expression that it was “in great mercy that the soul of this our dear
- sister” was taken, even though she shrank and shivered at the sound of the
- earth cast in, which would seem to close up from her for ever the most
- loved and loving creature that she would ever know. No, not for ever,—might
- she too but keep her part in Him Who is the Resurrection and the Life—might
- she be found acceptable in His sight, and receive the blessing to be
- pronounced to all that love and fear Him.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was over: they all stood round for a few minutes. At last Mr. Langford
- moved; Henrietta was also obliged to turn away, but before doing so, she
- raised her eyes to her father’s name, to take leave of him as it were, as
- she always did before going out of Church. She met her Uncle Geoffrey’s
- eye as she did so, and took his arm; and as soon as she was out of the
- church, she said almost in a whisper, “Uncle, I don’t wish for him now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pressed her arm, and looked most kindly at her, but he did not speak,
- for he could hardly command his voice; and he saw, too, that she might
- safely be trusted to the influences of that only true consolation which
- was coming upon her.
- </p>
- <p>
- They came home—to the home that looked as if it would fain be once
- more cheerful, with the front window blinds drawn up again, and the solemn
- stillness no longer observed. Henrietta hastened up to her own room, for
- she could not bear to show herself to her brother in her long crape veil.
- She threw her bonnet off, knelt down for a few minutes, but rose on
- hearing the approach of Beatrice, who still shared the same room. Beatrice
- came in, and looked at her for a few moments, as if doubtful how to
- address her; but at last she put her hand on her shoulder, and looking
- earnestly in her face, repeated—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then cheerily to your work again, With hearts new braced and set, To run
- untir’d love’s blessed race, As meet for those who, face to face, Over the
- grave their Lord have met.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Queenie,” said Henrietta, giving a long sigh, “it is a very
- different world to me now; but I do mean to try. And first, dear Bee, you
- must let me thank you for having been very kind to me this long time past,
- though I am afraid I showed little thankfulness.” She kissed her
- affectionately, and the tears almost choked Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me! me, of all people,” she said. “O, Henrietta!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must talk of it all another time,” said Henrietta, “but now it will
- not do to stay away from Fred any longer. Don’t think this like the days
- when I used to run away from you in the winter, Bee—that time when I
- would not stop and talk about the verses on the holly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While she spoke, there was something of the “new bracing” visible in every
- movement, as she set her dress to rights, and arranged her curls, which of
- late she had been used to allow to hang in a deplorable way, that showed
- how little vigour or inclination to bear up there was about her whole
- frame.
- </p>
- <p>
- “O no, do not stay with me,” said Queen Bee, “I am going”—to mamma,
- she would have said, but she hardly knew how to use the word when speaking
- to Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Henrietta, understanding her. “And tell her, Bee—for I
- am sure I shall never be able to say it to her,—all about our
- thanks, and how sorry I am that I cared so little about her or her
- comfort.” “If I had only believed, instead of blinding myself so
- wilfully!” she almost whispered to herself with a deep sigh; but being now
- ready, she ran downstairs and entered her brother’s room. His countenance
- bore traces of weeping, but he was still calm; and as she came in he
- looked anxiously at her. She spoke quietly as she sat down by him, put her
- hand into his, and said, “Thank you, dear Fred, for making me go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was quite sure you would be glad when it was over,” said Fred. “I have
- been reading the service with Aunt Geoffrey, but that is a very different
- thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will all come to you when you go to Church again,” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How little I thought that New Year’s Day—!” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! and how little we either of us thought last summer’s holidays!” said
- Henrietta. “If it was not for that, I could bear it all better; but it was
- my determination to come here that seems to have caused everything, and
- that is the thought I cannot bear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was talking all that over with Uncle Geoffrey last night,” said Fred,
- “and he especially warned us against reproaching ourselves with
- consequences. He said it was he who had helped my father to choose the
- horse that caused his death, and asked me if I thought he ought to blame
- himself for that. I said no; and he went on to tell me that he did not
- think we ought to take unhappiness to ourselves for what has happened now;
- that we ought to think of the actions themselves, instead of the results.
- Now my skating that day was just as bad as my driving, except, to be sure,
- that I put nobody in danger but myself; it was just as much disobedience,
- and I ought to be just as sorry for it, though nothing came of it, except
- that I grew more wilful.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Henrietta, “but I shall always feel as if everything had been
- caused by me. I am sure I shall never dare wish anything again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was just as much my wish as yours,” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah! but you did not go on always trying to make her do what you pleased,
- and keeping her to it, and almost thinking it a thing of course, to make
- her give up her wishes to yours. That was what I was always doing, and now
- I can never make up for it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O yes,” said Fred, “we can never feel otherwise than that. To know how
- she forgave us both, and how her wishes always turned to be the same as
- ours, if ours were not actually wrong; that is little comfort to remember,
- now, but perhaps it will be in time. But don’t you see, Henrietta, my
- dear, what Uncle Geoffrey means?—that if you did domineer over her,
- it was very wrong, and you may be sorry for that; but that you must not
- accuse yourself of doing all the mischief by bringing her here. He says he
- does not know whether it was not, after all, what was most for her
- comfort, if—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O, Freddy, to have you almost killed!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the thoughts I have had lately will but stay with me when I am well
- again, I do not think my accident will be a matter of regret, Henrietta.
- Just consider, when I was so disobedient in these little things, and
- attending so little to her or to Uncle Geoffrey, how likely it was that I
- might have gone on to much worse at school and college.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never, never!” said Henrietta.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not now, I hope,” said Fred; “but that was not what I meant to say. No
- one could say, Uncle Geoffrey told me, that the illness was brought on
- either by anxiety or over-exertion. The complaint was of long standing,
- and must have made progress some time or other; and he said that he was
- convinced that, as she said to Aunt Geoffrey, she had rather have been
- here than anywhere else. She said she could only be sorry for grandpapa
- and grandmamma’s sake, but that for herself it was great happiness to have
- been to Knight Sutton Church once more; and she was most thankful that she
- had come to die in my father’s home, after seeing us well settled here,
- instead of leaving us to come to it as a strange place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How little we guessed it was for that,” said Henrietta. “O what were we
- doing? But if it made her happy—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just imagine what to-day would have been if we were at Rocksand,” said
- Fred. “I, obliged to go back to school directly, and you, taking leave of
- everything there which would seem to you so full of her; and Uncle
- Geoffrey, just bringing you here without any time to stay with you, and
- the place and people all strange. I am sure that she who thought so much
- for you, must have rejoiced that you are at home here already.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Home!” said Henrietta, “how determinedly we used to call it so! But O,
- that my wish should have turned out in such a manner! If it has been all
- overruled so as to be happiness to her, as I am sure it has, I cannot
- complain; but I think I shall never wish again, or care for my own way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The devices and desires of our own hearts!” said Fred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t think I shall ever have spirit enough to be wilful for my own
- sake,” proceeded Henrietta. “Nothing will ever be the same pleasure to me,
- as when she used to be my other self, and enjoy it all over again for me;
- so that it was all twofold!” Here she hid her face, and her tears streamed
- fast, but they were soft and calm; and when she saw that Fred also was
- much overcome, she recalled her energies in a minute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, Fred, I may well be thankful that I have you, which is far more than
- I deserve; and as long as we do what she wished, we are still obeying her.
- I think at last I may get something of the right sort of feeling; for I am
- sure I see much better now what she and grandpapa used to mean when they
- talked about dear papa. And now do you like for me to read to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Few words more require to be said of Frederick and Henrietta Langford.
- Knight Sutton Hall was according to their mother’s wish, their home; and
- there Henrietta had the consolation, during the advancing spring and
- summer, of watching her brother’s recovery, which was very slow, but at
- the same time steady. Mrs. Geoffrey Langford stayed with her as long as he
- required much nursing; and Henrietta learnt to look upon her, not as quite
- a mother, but at any rate as more than an aunt, far more than she had ever
- been to her before; and when at length she was obliged to return to
- Westminster, it was a great satisfaction to think how soon the vacation
- would bring them all back to Knight Sutton.
- </p>
- <p>
- The holidays arrived, and with them Alexander, who, to his great
- disappointment, was obliged to give up all his generous hopes that Fred
- would be one of his competitors for the prize, when he found him able
- indeed to be with the family, to walk short distances, and to resume many
- of his former habits; but still very easily tired, and his head in a
- condition to suffer severely from noise, excitement, or application.
- Perhaps this was no bad thing for their newly formed alliance, as Alex had
- numberless opportunities of developing his consideration and kindness, by
- silencing his brothers, assisting his cousin when tired, and again and
- again silently giving up some favourite scheme of amusement when Fred
- proved to be unequal to it. Even Henrietta herself almost learned to trust
- Fred to Alex’s care, which was so much less irritating than her own; and
- how greatly the Queen Bee was improved is best shown, when it is related,
- that neither by word nor look did she once interrupt the harmony between
- them, or attempt to obtain the attention, of which, in fact, she always
- had as large a share as any reasonable person could desire.
- </p>
- <p>
- How fond Fred learnt to be of Alex will be easily understood, and the best
- requital of his kindness that he could devise was an offer—a very
- adventurous one, as was thought by all who heard of it—to undertake
- little Willy’s Latin, which being now far beyond Aunt Roger’s knowledge,
- had been under Alex’s care for the holidays. Willy was a very good pupil
- on the whole—better, it was said by most, than Alex himself had been—and
- very fond of Fred; but Latin grammar and Caesar formed such a test as
- perhaps their alliance would scarcely have endured, if in an insensible
- manner Willy and his books had not gradually been made over to Henrietta,
- whose great usefulness and good nature in this respect quite made up, in
- grandmamma’s eyes, for her very tolerable amount of acquirements in Latin
- and Greek.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the time care for her brother’s health had ceased to be Henrietta’s
- grand object, and she was obliged once more to see him depart to pursue
- his education, a whole circle of pursuits and occupations had sprung up
- around her, and given her the happiness of feeling herself both useful and
- valued. Old Mr. Langford saw in her almost the Mary he had parted with
- when resumed in early girlhood by Mrs. Vivian; Mrs. Langford had a
- granddaughter who would either be petted, sent on messages, or be civil to
- the Careys, as occasion served; Aunt Roger was really grateful to her, as
- well for the Latin and Greek she bestowed upon Willy and Charlie, as for
- the braided merino frocks or coats on which Bennet used to exercise her
- taste when Henrietta’s wardrobe failed to afford her sufficient
- occupation. The boys all liked her, made a friend of her, and demonstrated
- it in various ways more or less uncouth: her manners gradually acquired
- the influence over them which Queen Bee had only exerted over Alex and
- Willy, and when, saving Carey and Dick, they grew less awkward and
- bearish, without losing their honest downright good humour and good
- nature, Uncle Geoffrey only did her justice in attributing the change to
- her unconscious power. Miss Henrietta was also the friend of the poor
- women, the teacher and guide of the school children, and in their eyes and
- imagination second to no one but Mr. Franklin. And withal she did not
- cease to be all that she had ever been to her brother, if not still more.
- His heart and soul were for her, and scarce a joy and sorrow but was
- shared between them. She was his home, his everything, and she well
- fulfilled her mother’s parting trust of being his truest friend and
- best-loved counsellor.
- </p>
- <p>
- Would that her own want of submission and resignation had not prevented
- her from hearing the dear accents in which that charge was conveyed! This
- was, perhaps, the most deeply felt sorrow that followed her through life;
- and even with the fair peaceful image of her beloved mother, there was
- linked a painful memory of a long course of wilfulness and domineering on
- her own part. But there was much to be dwelt on that spoke only of
- blessedness and love, and each day brought her nearer to her whom she had
- lost, so long as she was humbly striving to walk in the steps of Him Who
- “came not to do His own will, but the will of Him that sent Him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- THE END <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
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