Читать книгу Gladys, the Reaper - Anne Beale - Страница 23

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'You will oblige me by remaining at home this evening, my dear,' said Mr. Gwynne to his daughter.

'That I assuredly shall, papa,' was the reply, 'for dear Miss Hall is coming to-day, and that princess of bores, Miss Nugent, has invited herself to tea. I certainly do wish Rowland Prothero would fall in love with her. She is quite ready for the premier venu, be he prince or peasant.'

'Does not Lady Mary come, my dear?'

'No; I am thankful to say she is gone to spend a few days with the Llanfawr family.'

'I am very glad Miss Hall is coming, Freda. I wish she would live with you; it would be very pleasant, and a protection for you, and all that sort of thing.'

'Oh, do ask her, dear papa. I have tried a thousand times to persuade her to come here and live with us for ever; but I think she will not come on my invitation.'

'I could not possibly ask her, my dear. I should break down at the first word; we never were very familiar. She is stiff, and I am nervous—and—and—I really could not summon courage.'

Miss Hall had been Miss Gwynne's governess during a few years of her education era, and had succeeded in entirely gaining her affections, as well as a small portion of ascendancy over her determined will. She had left Glanyravon to reside with an aged father, who, having lately died, left her again under the necessity of seeking a situation. Miss Gwynne had invited her to pay her a visit, and she was to arrive almost immediately.

She did arrive whilst they were talking about her, and as the carriage that had been sent to meet her drove up to the door out flew Freda in great excitement, and scarcely allowed her ci-devant governess to alight before she was overwhelming her with embraces. Mr. Gwynne followed somewhat more leisurely, and received Miss Hall with his usual nervous reserve of manner, but great courtesy. She responded most warmly to the embraces of Freda, and quietly to the welcome of Mr. Gwynne.

We will not give a minute description of the new comer, because she is not quite a person to be described. She is neither very good-looking nor very plain, neither very old nor very young, neither very tall nor very short, neither very talkative nor very reserved, neither very much over-dressed nor very much under-dressed, neither very merry nor very grave. Freda used to say that she was the personification of gentle dignity and serenity, and in the days of her Italian studies called her occasionally La Dignità, but more frequently La Serenità, which epithet would sometimes be abbreviated into Serena, or Sera, or Nita, or anything but Miss Hall, which the love of the impulsive pupil, so hard to obtain, and so great when obtained, thought much too formal.

When Freda took Miss Hall to the delightful apartment she had been adorning for her for a week past, the first impulse of the older lady was to throw herself upon the neck of the younger, and burst into tears.

'Dearest Serena, I have been so very sorry for you,' was all that Freda could say.

For a minute there was silence, when Miss Hall, recovering herself, said—

'Dear Freda, this is all so kind of you. If anything could console me for the loss of my last earthly support, it is such affection as yours.'

We will pass over the long conversation of those two friends, its melancholy and its mirth, for there was much of both, and bring them to the dinner-table and Messrs Gwynne and Rowland Prothero.

They were rather a formal quartette, and at first conversation did not flow easily. Mr. Gwynne's nerves, Rowland's embarrassment Miss Hall's natural depression of spirits, and Freda's resolution not to make herself agreeable to a person she was determined to consider conceited, were bad ingredients for a dish of good sociable converse. By degrees, however, they thawed a little. Mr. Gwynne wished to say something that would set his young chess opponent at his ease, and said the very thing likely the most to confuse a shy man. He made a personal remark and paid a compliment.

'I am sure your uncle and—and your father, of course, must have been much gratified, and so forth, at your gaining that fellowship at Oxford.'

'I think you labour under a mistake,' said Rowland, looking more than usually confused when he saw Miss Gwynne's eyes turned upon him; 'I merely gained a scholarship at Rugby, which is really nothing. I did not even try for a fellowship.'

'Conceited!' thought Freda. 'I suppose he thinks if he had tried he would have got one.'

'Were you not at Baliol?' asked Mr. Gwynne.

'Yes; I went there because my aunt had a fancy for the college, her father having been, there, otherwise I should have gone to Jesus College and tried for a Welsh fellowship, which is more easily obtained, because there are few competitors.'

'Did you know anything of Mr. Neville, Sir Thomas Neville's son?' asked Miss Hall.

'Yes; I was introduced to him through some friends of my aunt's, and we became very intimate. He was very kind to me.'

'Is he clever?'

'Very. I think he has very fine talents, and is likely to shine at the bar if he continues in his resolution to go to it. I have just had an invitation to spend a few days with him, but do not think I shall have time before I go to be ordained.'

'Has your aunt settled the curacy?' asked Freda, with a wicked laugh in the corner of her eye.

'I think and hope so,' replied Rowland, answering the visible smile by a blush; 'she has done her utmost to obtain it for me.'

'Ah! she was well connected, and has some interest, and a—a great deal of energy, and all that sort of thing; I should think she was a clever, or I mean a—an enterprising woman.'

Mr. Gwynne hesitated as he said this, not admiring the lady in question, yet thinking it incumbent upon him to pay her a compliment. His daughter glanced inquiringly at Rowland, as if wondering what he could say to so dubious a speech. He appeared equally at a loss, and, as he turned from Mr. Gwynne for a moment, caught Miss Gwynne's mirthful eye. He could not help smiling, but said with much spirit—

'My aunt has been very good to me, Mr. Gwynne, and I owe her a heavy debt of gratitude for giving me at least the opportunity of getting on in the world.'

'Well, I like him for that,' thought Freda; 'and are you going to London?' she asked aloud, with a degree of interest.

'I am to be ordained by the Bishop of London to a city curacy,' was the reply.

'Will you allow me to take wine with you and wish you success, sir?' said Mr. Gwynne. 'Who knows but we may see you Bishop of London some day? Miss Hall, Freda, will you join us?'

Mr. Gwynne became quite animated. He felt proud that the son of his most respectable tenant should be going to take a London curacy.

Freda bent rather less stiffly than usual to Mr. Rowland Prothero. She was annoyed with herself for feeling more inclined to be friendly with him since she had heard that he was intimate with young Neville, and was to be ordained by the Bishop of London.

There was more conversation, which it is unnecessary to repeat; but in due course of time the ladies retired to the drawing-room, where they found Miss Nugent awaiting them.

'Whose beaux yeux do you think we have in the dining-room?' asked Freda.

'I am thure I cannot gueth; perhapth Thir Hugh Prythe's,' Miss Nugent lisped.

'Do you call his beaux yeux? Little ferret eyes like his! No; guess again.'

'Young Rithe Rithe?'

'Wrong again.'

'Not Captain Lewith?'

'Some one much nearer home.'

'I do not know any one elthe, exthept that Mr. Howel Jenkinth, who, they thay, will be quite a grand man.'

'I do not even know him. What do you think of his cousin, Mr. Rowland Prothero?'

'I never thought about him; mamma thayth he ith very handthome, but I am thure he is very gauche and countrified.'

'Oh, I am sure he is not. You are greatly mistaken, he has been in excellent society, and is going at once to a London living—curacy I mean, but it is all the same.'

Miss Hall looked rather amazed at Freda. A few hours before she had been lamenting the necessity of entertaining that 'stupid young Prothero.'

'Ith he really?' said Miss Nugent. 'The London curateth are tho interething. There ith one at Tht Jameth'th, with a pale face and black hair, and thuch a beautiful voice. Ith Mr. Prothero going to Tht Jameth'th?'

'You shall ask him yourself; I daresay he will like you to seem interested.'

'Are you going to Tht Jameth'th, Mr. Prothero?' inquired Miss Nugent, when that young man entered the room shortly after.

'I beg your pardon, I do not quite understand what you mean.'

'Mith Gwynne thaid you were going to a London curacy; I thought it might be Tht Jameth'th.'

'I believe not. If I go to London I shall probably be in the city—a very different locality to St. James's.'

'Oh! when we are in town we alwayth go to Tht Jameth'th, it ith thuch a nice church.'

Freda perceived that Miss Nugent's interest fell as soon as she found that Rowland was going into the city. She also saw a smile lurking about Rowland's mouth when he said—

'I have never been in London; but I suppose St. James's is one of the fashionable parts.'

'Oh yeth, very. Numberth of grand people go to Tht Jameth'th; don't you with you were going to be curate there instead of the thity?'

Rowland was grave in a moment.

'I should wish to labour wherever there is the largest field to work in, Miss Nugent, whether in the city or St. James's.'

'Yeth, to be sure, I believe there are loths of poor people in Tht Jameth'th. I onthe went by chance into thuch a nathty alley clothe by Tht Jameth'th Threet. Thuch dirty children!'

'Alas,' said Miss Hall, coming to the rescue of Rowland, who was looking quite distressed, 'we cannot go many steps in the London parishes, be they fashionable or unfashionable, without entering a "vineyard" amply wide enough for any one who wishes to work in it, whether priest or layman.'

Rowland looked round brightly and pleasantly at Miss Hall. Freda could not help noticing the sudden animation in a face that she had considered a minute ago almost heavy.

'When are we to have our game at chess?' interrupted Mr. Gwynne. 'The poor of London is a subject I quite dread to hear discussed, it is so hopeless. One can do no good, and what is the use of tormenting oneself about it here in Wales.'

'Oh, papa! they want very decided measures; plenty of police, active magistrates, and I don't know what besides,' said Freda.

'Would you allow me to supply what you have omitted?' asked Rowland; 'they want Christian sympathy, Christian teaching, brotherly kindness, and the aid of the rich and powerful.'

Freda considered Rowland's finale to her sentence impertinent and was about to take up the defence of her magisterial system very warmly, when she met a glance so earnest and appealing, and withal so beautiful in its earnestness, that she could not find in her heart to answer it by a hard look or word; so, for want of better reply, she went to prepare the chess-table.

'I wish you joy of that Saracenic game,' she said ironically, as her father and Rowland sat down to chess, not perhaps quite by the wish of one of the pair.

'I thought you liked chess, Freda?' said Miss Hall.

'Oh, pretty well, when I can get any one who does not beat me. I hate so to lose a game that I think it is better not to play at all than to run the risk of feeling in a passion, and not being able to give vent to it.'

'Perhaps the better plan would be to control the passion,' said Miss Hall.

'Impossible! I am sure it must be just such a feeling as a good general would have if he lost a battle, after having done his best to win it.'

'I suppose the best general is always the calmest, both in victory and defeat,' murmured Rowland, without taking his eyes from his men.

'If you would oblige me by not talking,' said Mr. Gwynne nervously; 'I can never play if my opponent talks.'

'I beg your pardon,' said Rowland; 'I know it is very disagreeable.'

'Are you too tired to visit some of your old haunts, Serenità?' said Freda. 'By the way that would be a good name for Mr. Prothero's ideal general.'

'Not quite,' began Rowland, but was silent in a moment.

'My dear Freda, are you going out? I really am sorry to stop your amusement, and so forth, but I cannot play,' said Mr. Gwynne.

'Exactly, papa; we will go directly if Miss Hall likes.'

The three ladies left the room, and, as Rowland glanced after them, he very decidedly wished that he might be permitted to accompany them. One other great wish he also had at his heart, the conversion of Miss Gwynne to a purer and higher tone of mind. He did not, we grieve to say, bestow a similar pastoral thought on Miss Nugent.

'That position of your queen at such an early stage of the game must be an oversight, I think. Excuse me, but I could not take such an unfair advantage,' said Mr. Gwynne.

Rowland was roused at once. He gave himself up to his game, and an hour afterwards, when the ladies returned from their walk, and candles were ordered, it was still in progress, but he had the best of it.

'Will you sing for us, Serena?' said Freda.

'Will you sing a duet with me?' was the reply.

The duet was sung, and another and another and another, and Rowland lost the game.

Mr. Gwynne arose, very much elated and rubbing his hands gently, according to his wont.

'How do you feel, general, defeated?' asked Freda.

'Very much like a subaltern,' said Rowland.

'Do you sing, Mr. Prothero?' asked Miss Hall; 'all the Welsh are so musical that I think there are few who have not voices.'

'I sometimes sing chants and sacred music; but I know very few songs, and those old ones.'

'Perhaps you will take the bass of some of these old glees. Here is "The Chough and Crow," "When shall we three meet again," "The Canadian Boat Song," "The Sicilian Mariner," and I know not how many more,' said Miss Hall, turning over the leaves of a thick old book full of glees.

'I will do my best,' said Rowland, and the glees began in earnest.

All the Protheros were musical, and Rowland had a very fine clear voice. Miss Hall was right in saying that the Welsh are a musical people; Rowland was a happy example. He had been studying Church music a good deal, and learning to take different parts, so he acquitted himself very creditably in the glees, all of which he had either tried or heard sung. Freda was quite astonished. She had a great taste for music herself, and a good voice, but would never sing with any one but Miss Hall, a piece of wilfulness that her father occasionally reproached her with. The addition of Rowland was rather agreeable to her, as it enabled them to sing the glees that she was fond of. She no longer objected to the chess, and when her father proposed giving Rowland his revenge on the morrow, she added, 'And then we can wind up with a few more glees.'

Rowland bowed his thanks and departed.

During the ensuing month there were frequent chess and glee clubs at Glanyravon. What the effect such associations had upon Rowland he never confided to any one, but when Miss Hall expressed her opinion that 'Mr. Prothero was a sensible, unaffected young man, but shy,' Freda condescended to say, 'Well, he is not quite such a Goth or half as affected as I fancied he was, but he has a very good opinion of himself, nevertheless.'

In due course Rowland went to London to be ordained, and so ended the chess and glee clubs.