Читать книгу Englefield Grange; or, Mary Armstrong's Troubles - Mrs. H. B. Paull - Страница 18

Table of Contents

More than three years have passed since Mary's probation ended so pleasantly, and they have very much changed her father.

Perhaps we ought to say that the gentle influence of his wife and close association with her family, had to a certain extent softened down the rugged points of his character, and made him more amenable to the usages of the society in which he moved. The very fact of his choosing for a wife a woman of education and refinement proved that his tastes were above his position, for in the days of which we write, the idea of refinement in the wife of a tradesman would have been treated with incredulity, if not contempt.

During this period the death of Mrs. Armstrong's mother, Mrs. St. Clair, was the only change that occurred in his wife's family. The house at Richmond was given up, and Mary greatly missed the society of her dear grandmamma, and the pleasant visits to her house; but she still constantly associated with her aunts and uncles.

Among the changes of opinion which had by degrees crushed down Mr. Armstrong's prejudices and crotchets, were two important ones, not perhaps in themselves, but in their results. He took a house for his family at Kilburn, which was then a really rural suburb of London.

Sometimes he would ride into town to his business, or take the newly established omnibus which left that locality in time for business hours.

This arrangement led to the less important change from an early to a late dinner, and also to the choice of a school for his youngest boy, Freddy, now in his eighth year. The child's health had always suffered in London, and as, since their residence in the country, he appeared so much better, Mrs. Armstrong wished him to remain at home and go daily to a school in the neighbourhood.

It was not long before a circular found its way from Englefield Grange School to Lime Grove, as Mr. Armstrong's residence was named, from two magnificent lime-trees which stood as sentinels on each side the entrance gate, in summer filling the air with their sweet fragrance.

Mrs. Armstrong decided to call upon the principal, Dr. Halford, herself, and with all a mother's anxiety talk to him about her boy.

Her own health had wonderfully improved during the six months of her residence at Kilburn. The open country—for houses then were few and far between—the sweet fresh air, the pleasant walks, gave her, as it were, new life, and last, but not least, the six o'clock dinner suited her better than a late supper. Mr. Armstrong would sometimes tell her she was growing young again, and it may be understood well how her relatives rejoiced over the change in her husband's opinions which had brought about such pleasant results. This improved state of health enabled Mrs. Armstrong to array herself fearlessly in warm winter clothing, and venture out in the cold frosty air a few weeks after Christmas, to call upon Dr. Halford. The distance along the country road was very trifling, and she had more than once noticed the large old-fashioned house which stood back from the road, surrounded by playgrounds, orchards, and a farmyard, all visible to the passer-by.

The vacation was nearly at an end, and the house, with its large dormitories and schoolrooms, in perfect readiness for the return of Dr. Halford's pupils. Its clean and well-furnished appearance satisfied the rather fastidious lady, although she had no intention of sending her boy as a boarder. She had been conducted to a pleasant drawing-room overlooking a beautiful prospect at the back of the house, and instead of taking the chair placed for her she advanced to the window to admire the view. While thus standing, she almost started as the door opened and the doctor entered.

A mildly speaking man, above the middle height, with silvery hair and keen intellectual eyes, advanced to greet the visitor, who quickly discerned that the schoolmaster, of whose erudition she had heard so much, was truly a gentleman of the old school. The cavalier deference in his manner to women, the old-fashioned courtesy with which he requested Mrs. Armstrong to be seated, and addressed her as "Madam," were essentially pleasing to that lady. They were soon quite at home on the subject of education, and Dr. Halford added no little to the prepossession he had created by listening to her anxieties respecting Freddy's health with courteous interest.

"You have children of your own, Dr. Halford?" said Mrs. Armstrong, in a tone of inquiry.

"I have two living, madam; a son and a daughter. My son is being educated for the Church, but at present he assists me in my school."

"And your daughter in the domestic arrangements, I presume," said the lady, with a kind of wish to know whether other men were as anxious over that point as her husband.

"She was accustomed to do so before her marriage," he replied, "but she has resided for several years with her husband in Australia. My son is much younger than his sister. She is the eldest of seven, and he the youngest."

Mrs. Armstrong mentally reflected on the sorrowful loss of five children, which must have caused such a terrible gap between the only surviving son and daughter, for there had been a sadness in his tone when he last spoke. Her own sympathies were too strong, and the memory of the loss of two children since Freddy, too painful still to allow her to continue the subject, so she said—

"When do you commence school again, Dr. Halford?"

"On Monday, madam," was the reply. "Would you like to see the schoolrooms and dining-rooms?" he added, "as your little boy is to dine with us."

Mrs. Armstrong gladly assented, and on her way to these apartments met Mrs. Halford, with whom she was equally pleased to make acquaintance. After a stay of nearly an hour, she at last took her leave of the doctor and his wife, saying—

"I shall send my little boy on Monday week, Dr. Halford, not before, and I feel sure he will make progress under your care, and be quite happy."

The terms for so young a pupil were not of such great importance as to justify Dr. Halford's pleasure at this addition to his numbers, but he had been as quick to detect a gentlewoman in Mrs. Armstrong as she had been respecting himself. Besides, he had heard rumours already of the wealth and good connexions of the family at Lime Grove, and the latter fact was more especially agreeable to him.

A clergyman who is a schoolmaster and his wife are both often well born and well connected though poor, and naturally they prefer to teach boys who learn refinement and good breeding at home, to those who are perhaps better paid for by parents who think everything, even intellect and good manners, can be obtained for money.

Mrs. Armstrong returned home at a quick pace; the pleasure she felt at being able to place her delicate Freddy with such nice people, and the fresh bracing air of the cold morning, invigorated her so greatly that Mary, who met her in the hall, exclaimed—

"Why, mamma, you look quite young and blooming, and as happy as if you had heard pleasant news!"

"Well, dear, I think I have, for Dr. Halford is one of the nicest schoolmasters I ever met with, rather of the old school in manners, but not in the least pedantic, and I like Mrs. Halford exceedingly, there is such a kind, motherly way about her, and they are both really well bred."

"So I suppose you intend Freddy to go there to school, mamma?" said Mary.

"Yes, indeed I do, my dear; and I am so pleased with the house and the arrangements, that if the Grange were not too near home, I should like to send Arthur and Edward as boarders. But I begin to feel rather tired, darling," she added, throwing herself into an easy-chair, "although the fresh bracing air seems to have given me new life."

"Ah, yes, so it may," cried Mary, "but, mamma, I can see you are tired; all the bright colour on your checks is beginning to fade already, so you must sit quite still in that chair till luncheon time; it will soon be ready, and I will take off your things and carry them upstairs while you rest."

The fairies of old are still Mary's attendants; gently and quickly she removed her mother's bonnet and wraps, and running upstairs with them, returned in a very few minutes with her head-dress, which she arranged tastefully on the pale brown hair, still worn in side curls as in the days of her youth.

Mrs. Armstrong has not yet reached the age of forty, and the delicate health of the last few years has only rendered her fair complexion more delicate and her physical powers weaker, without adding age to her appearance or a single grey hair to the shining curls which hang on each side of her face.

As Mary Armstrong stands by her mother, smoothing the soft ringlets, it is plainly to be seen that the pretty child of twelve has developed into a very beautiful woman. At the age of eighteen she resembles her mother only in complexion, eyes, and hair. Her features, though as regular, are not so delicately chiselled, they are larger and more marked; and in this, as in an expression of calm decision, the resemblance to her father is very striking. It is when she smiles, and her blue eyes light up with pleasure and interest, that strangers often exclaim, "How like you are to your mother, Miss Armstrong!" Mary has grown very little since the time when her cousin named her "Cinderella," but she looks taller, partly on account of her figure having fully developed into rounded proportions, but principally because the curls have disappeared. They have been tortured into plaits and massive coils at the back of her head, but true to Nature they often rebel, and escape here and there in the form of ringlets—often unnoticed by their owner, but when pointed out to her they are unceremoniously pushed back.

Mary is still influenced by the words of her father; he once said to her, "Mary, can you not arrange your hair as other girls do? those long curls are too childish at your age."

From this moment, to her mother's great regret, she, as it was then called, "turned up her hair" in the way we have described.

Her aunts approved, because this arrangement was less singular and more fashionable, which latter fact would have greatly surprised Mr. Armstrong. At all events, they differed from him in one respect still. When the rebellious hair would escape from the plaits in stray ringlets while in the company of her aunts, Mary had at first attempted to reduce them to submission, but she was quickly interrupted. "Leave your hair alone, Mary," her aunt Herbert exclaimed; "why, those stray ringlets are most effective, and quite an improvement to the appearance of your head. Surely your father will not object to what is natural; if you curled it in paper every night to produce an effect, then he might complain or disapprove."

Mary laughed, but when visiting at her aunt's she allowed Nature to act as she pleased. Yet at home there seemed no happier task to the young girl than to give way to every wish of her father, whether openly expressed or slightly hinted at, no matter to what it referred. It was a kind of hero-worship in the girl's heart. Her father was her hero, and the fact that she did not love him with the same clinging fondness as she loved her mother was quite unknown to herself.

Mary Armstrong certainly obeyed the command, "Honour thy father and thy mother;" yet in the family at Lime Grove there was still one thing wanting, "the perfect love that casteth out fear."

The principles of honour, rectitude, truthfulness, generosity, and other moral virtues were cultivated in Mary's home, but the "charity, or love," without which, St. Paul tells us, all our doings are as "sounding brass and tinkling cymbals," was wanting. Love to God and love to man, on which "hang all the law and the commandments," were known only in theory.

Mary Armstrong had yet to learn that to her Father in heaven she must turn in trouble and sorrow, and in future days she might have said almost in the words of Wolsey, "Had I but served my Father in heaven as diligently as I studied to please my father on earth, He would not have forsaken me now in my hour of sorrow." And yet for these days of trial Mary at last could feel thankful. Christianity in her home had been an acknowledged fact. Its outward duties, its moral principles, were all inculcated; but when our daily life passes smoothly, untroubled, by sorrow or poverty, which is, perhaps, the hardest trial of all to bear, especially when accompanied by sickness and pain, we are apt to forget the sweet principle of love to God and love to man which, St. Paul tells us, "is the fulfilling of the law;" and Mary Armstrong's life hitherto had known no trials more painful than those caused by her father's eccentricities.