Читать книгу The Moorland Cottage - Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell - Страница 5

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At length they were dressed, and Nancy stood on the court-steps, shading

her eyes, and looking after them, as they climbed the heathery slope

leading to Combehurst.

"I wish she'd take her hand sometimes, just to let her know the feel of

her mother's hand. Perhaps she will, at least after Master Edward goes to

school."

As they went along, Mrs. Browne gave the children a few rules respecting

manners and etiquette.

"Maggie! you must sit as upright as ever you can; make your back flat,

child, and don't poke. If I cough, you must draw up. I shall cough whenever

I see you do anything wrong, and I shall be looking at you all day; so

remember. You hold yourself very well, Edward. If Mr. Buxton asks you, you

may have a glass of wine, because you're a boy. But mind and say, 'Your

good health, sir,' before you drink it."

"I'd rather not have the wine if I'm to say that," said Edward, bluntly.

"Oh, nonsense! my dear. You'd wish to be like a gentleman, I'm sure."

Edward muttered something which was inaudible. His mother went on:

Of course you'll never think of being helped more than twice. Twice of

meat, twice of pudding, is the genteel thing. You may take less, but never

more."

"Oh, mamma! how beautiful Combehurst spire is, with that dark cloud behind

it!" exclaimed Maggie, as they came in sight of the town.

"You've no business with Combehurst spire when I'm speaking to you. I'm

talking myself out of breath to teach you how to behave, and there you go

looking after clouds, and such like rubbish. I'm ashamed of you."

Although Maggie walked quietly by her mother's side all the rest of the

way, Mrs. Browne was too much offended to resume her instructions on

good-breeding. Maggie might be helped three times if she liked: she had

done with her.

They were very early. When they drew near the bridge, they were met by a

tall, fine-looking boy, leading a beautiful little Shetland pony, with a

side-saddle on it. He came up to Mrs. Browne, and addressed her.

"My father thought your little girl would be tired, and he told me to bring

my cousin Erminia's pony for her. It's as quiet as can be."

Now this was rather provoking to Mrs. Browne, as she chose to consider

Maggie in disgrace. However, there was no help for it: all she could do was

to spoil the enjoyment as far as possible, by looking and speaking in a

cold manner, which often chilled Maggie's little heart, and took all the

zest out of the pleasure now. It was in vain that Frank Buxton made the

pony trot and canter; she still looked sad and grave.

"Little dull thing!" he thought; but he was as kind and considerate as a

gentlemanly boy could be.

At last they reached Mr. Buxton's house. It was in the main street, and the

front door opened upon it by a flight of steps. Wide on each side extended

the stone-coped windows. It was in reality a mansion, and needed not

the neighboring contrast of the cottages on either side to make it look

imposing. When they went in, they entered a large hall, cool even on that

burning July day, with a black and white flag floor, and old settees

round the walls, and great jars of curious china, which were filled with

pot-pourrie. The dusky gloom was pleasant, after the glare of the street

outside; and the requisite light and cheerfulness were given by the peep

into the garden, framed, as it were, by the large door-way that opened into

it. There were roses, and sweet-peas, and poppies--a rich mass of color,

which looked well, set in the somewhat sombre coolness of the hall. All the

house told of wealth--wealth which had accumulated for generations, and

which was shown in a sort of comfortable, grand, unostentatious way. Mr.

Buxton's ancestors had been yeomen; but, two or three generations back,

they might, if ambitious, have taken their place as country gentry, so much

had the value of their property increased, and so great had been the amount

of their savings. They, however, continued to live in the old farm till Mr.

Buxton's grandfather built the house in Combehurst of which I am speaking,

and then he felt rather ashamed of what he had done; it seemed like

stepping out of his position. He and his wife always sat in the best

kitchen; and it was only after his son's marriage that the entertaining

rooms were furnished. Even then they were kept with closed shutters

and bagged-up furniture during the lifetime of the old couple, who,

nevertheless, took a pride in adding to the rich-fashioned ornaments and

grand old china of the apartments. But they died, and were gathered to

their fathers, and young Mr. and Mrs. Buxton (aged respectively fifty-one

and forty-five) reigned in their stead. They had the good taste to make no

sudden change; but gradually the rooms assumed an inhabited appearance, and

their son and daughter grew up in the enjoyment of great wealth, and no

small degree of refinement. But as yet they held back modestly from putting

themselves in any way on a level with the county people. Lawrence Buxton

was sent to the same school as his father had been before him; and the

notion of his going to college to complete his education was, after some

deliberation, negatived. In process of time he succeeded his father, and

married a sweet, gentle lady, of a decayed and very poor county family, by

whom he had one boy before she fell into delicate health. His sister had

married a man whose character was worse than his fortune, and had been left

a widow. Everybody thought her husband's death a blessing; but she loved

him, in spite of negligence and many grosser faults; and so, not many years

after, she died, leaving her little daughter to her brother's care, with

many a broken-voiced entreaty that he would never speak a word against

the dead father of her child. So the little Erminia was taken home by her

self-reproaching uncle, who felt now how hardly he had acted towards his

sister in breaking off all communication with her on her ill-starred

marriage.

"Where is Erminia, Frank?" asked his father, speaking over Maggie's

shoulder, while he still held her hand. "I want to take Mrs. Browne to your

mother. I told Erminia to be here to welcome this little girl."

"I'll take her to Minnie; I think she's in the garden. I'll come back to

you," nodding to Edward, "directly, and then we will go to the rabbits."

So Frank and Maggie left the great lofty room, full of strange rare

things, and rich with books, and went into the sunny scented garden, which

stretched far and wide behind the house. Down one of the walks, with a

hedge of roses on either side, came a little tripping fairy, with long

golden ringlets, and a complexion like a china rose. With the deep blue of

the summer sky behind her, Maggie thought she looked like an angel. She

neither hastened nor slackened her pace when she saw them, but came on with

the same dainty light prancing step.

"Make haste, Minnie," cried Frank.

But Minnie stopped to gather a rose.

"Don't stay with me," said Maggie, softly, although she had held his hand

like that of a friend, and did not feel that the little fairy's manner was

particularly cordial or gracious. Frank took her at her word, and ran off

to Edward.

Erminia came a little quicker when she saw that Maggie was left alone; but

for some time after they were together, they had nothing to say to each

other. Erminia was easily impressed by the pomps and vanities of the world;

and Maggie's new handsome frock seemed to her made of old ironed brown

silk. And though Maggie's voice was soft, with a silver ringing sound in

it, she pronounced her words in Nancy's broad country way. Her hair was cut

short all round; her shoes were thick, and clumped as she walked. Erminia

patronized her, and thought herself very kind and condescending; but they

were not particularly friendly. The visit promised to be more honorable

than agreeable, and Maggie almost wished herself at home again. Dinner-time

came. Mrs. Buxton dined in her own room. Mr. Buxton was hearty, and jovial,

and pressing; he almost scolded Maggie because she would not take more than

twice of his favorite pudding: but she remembered what her mother had said,

and that she would be watched all day; and this gave her a little prim,

quaint manner, very different from her usual soft charming unconsciousness.

She fancied that Edward and Master Buxton were just as little at their ease

with each other as she and Miss Harvey. Perhaps this feeling on the part of

the boys made all four children unite after dinner.

"Let us go to the swing in the shrubbery," said Frank, after a little

consideration; and off they ran. Frank proposed that he and Edward should

swing the two little girls; and for a time all went on very well. But

by-and-by Edward thought, that Maggie had had enough, and that he should

like a turn; and Maggie, at his first word, got out.

"Don't you like swinging?" asked Erminia.

"Yes! but Edward would like it now." And Edward accordingly took her place.

Frank turned away, and would not swing him. Maggie strove hard to do it,

but he was heavy, and the swing bent unevenly. He scolded her for what

she could not help, and at last jumped out so roughly, that the seat hit

Maggie's face, and knocked her down. When she got up, her lips quivered

with pain, but she did not cry; she only looked anxiously at her frock.

There was a great rent across the front breadth. Then she did shed

tears--tears of fright. What would her mother say?

Erminia saw her crying.

"Are you hurt?" said she, kindly. "Oh, how your check is swelled! What a

rude, cross boy your brother is!"

"I did not know he was going to jump out. I am not crying because I am

hurt, but because of this great rent in my nice new frock. Mamma will be so

displeased."

"Is it a new frock?" asked Erminia.

"It is a new one for me. Nancy has sat up several nights to make it. Oh!

what shall I do?"

Erminia's little heart was softened by such excessive poverty. A best frock

made of shabby old silk! She put her arms round Maggie's neck, and said:

"Come with me; we will go to my aunt's dressing-room, and Dawson will give

me some silk, and I'll help you to mend it."

"That's a kind little Minnie," said Frank. Ned had turned sulkily away. I

do not think the boys were ever cordial again that day; for, as Frank said

to his mother, "Ned might have said he was sorry; but he is a regular

tyrant to that little brown mouse of a sister of his."

Erminia and Maggie went, with their arms round each other's necks, to Mrs.

Buxton's dressing-room. The misfortune had made them friends. Mrs.

Buxton lay on the sofa; so fair and white and colorless, in her muslin

dressing-gown, that when Maggie first saw the lady lying with her eyes

shut, her heart gave a start, for she thought she was dead. But she opened

her large languid eyes, and called them to her, and listened to their story

with interest.

"Dawson is at tea. Look, Minnie, in my work-box; there is some silk there.

Take off your frock, my dear, and bring it here, and let me see how it can

be mended."

"Aunt Buxton," whispered Erminia, "do let me give her one of my frocks.

This is such an old thing."

"No, love. I'll tell you why afterwards," answered Mrs. Buxton.

She looked at the rent, and arranged if nicely for the little girls to

mend. Erminia helped Maggie with right good will. As they sat on the floor,

Mrs. Buxton thought what a pretty contrast they made; Erminia, dazzlingly

fair, with her golden ringlets, and her pale-blue frock; Maggie's little

round white shoulders peeping out of her petticoat; her brown hair as

glossy and smooth as the nuts that it resembled in color; her long black

eye-lashes drooping over her clear smooth cheek, which would have given the

idea of delicacy, but for the coral lips that spoke of perfect health: and

when she glanced up, she showed long, liquid, dark-gray eyes. The deep red

of the curtain behind, threw out these two little figures well.

Dawson came up. She was a grave elderly person, of whom Erminia was far

more afraid than she was of her aunt; but at Mrs. Buxton's desire she

finished mending the frock for Maggie.

"Mr. Buxton has asked some of your mamma's old friends to tea, as I am not