Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 697

By this time we were presented with the key of the next cottage, together with a pressing invitation to extend the field of our operations. As days went on we began to feel a little proud of our success, such as it was, though it could not be said to have been achieved without difficulty. In the outset, all sorts of obstacles were placed in our way. It took us, for instance, some days to bring a certain dirty table to reason. After cleaning away sundry marks, such as beer-stains, which offended our sense of propriety, we invariably found it as dirty as ever. A more unmanageable piece of business than this obstinate old table is not often found. It really was depressing, as Lilian said, to find our efforts so entirely ignored, not to say set at naught; though of course we did not intend to yield. We tried the effect of placing a little round waiter on the table, in the hope that its use would suggest itself; but without any good result. At length I began to perceive that this was a case in which we were contending against one of the lords of creation, and that for some reason he considered it necessary to assert his independence.

'It's old Jemmy Rodgers as lives with his darter,' explained Sally Dent, to whom I had put a question upon the point. 'He says you ain't a-doing all this for nothing – 't ain't likely; and he ain't a-going to give in to the new ways till he knows for certain what's to come of it.'

'I should think he might be sure no harm could come of it.'

'He ain't so sure, Miss. He says' (carefully fixing the responsibility upon Jemmy Rodgers) 'that perhaps you only wants to make us all obligated to you, so as we can't shake you off when you comes by-and-by a-worriting about' —

'About what?' I asked, seeing that she hesitated to go on.

'Well, there; he says, most like you have got hold of some newfangled way for saving souls, and you wants to try it on we. William Marther, he says there's all sorts of new ways a-being tried up in London. But we are old-fashioned folks, and we've got enough to do to read our Bibles and 'tend to what the clergyman says. He's a good kind gentleman; and if he worrits a bit about the drink and all that, we don't mind it from he, because he shews us the texts for what he says, and there's no saying nay to them.'

I very gravely assured her that I had no intention whatever of worriting; and that we did not, at anyrate for the present, even desire to make the acquaintance of the cottagers.

'But you must have some reason for doing it, Miss; at least Jemmy Rodgers ses so,' said Sally Dent, eyeing us sharply.

'Tell Jemmy Rodgers that if he attended more to what Mr Wyatt teaches, he would not be so ready to doubt others,' I replied.

And leaving that to sink into Jemmy Rodgers' heart, we cleaned away at the table again. All to no purpose; that table represented Jemmy Rodgers' independence of us and our help, and we regularly found it in the same state every morning. But we made up our minds that even Jemmy Rodgers must have a weakness somewhere; and after a few diplomatic questions to Sally Dent, we discovered it. Once his weakness discovered, Jemmy Rodgers was vanquished, though it cost us five shillings to do it, and he really did not deserve to have that much spent upon him. But by-and-by perhaps, he would understand that it was the victory only which had been paid for. A neat little bracket was placed beside the fireplace, and on it, Jemmy Rodgers one evening found a pretty stone tobacco-jar filled with good tobacco, and a nice new pipe. Not a little curiously did we open the door the next morning. There was only one mark on the table, and that a very faint one, as a sort of feeble protest that Jemmy Rodgers was not to be bought; but after that we were left to our own devices; regarded, I think, as eccentric, but eccentric in a way that no one had any right to object to – something like children who had a fancy for playing at being servants.

Be that as it may, we were beginning to be rewarded in the way we most cared for. There were unmistakable signs of a disposition to keep the little homes in a more orderly state; and the delight our modest offerings in the way of ornament gave, was very marked as well as suggestive.

The love which the poor display for some little possession in the way of ornament, is not always, I think, sufficiently considered. I can only say that I have known one little thing of beauty, or even a faint and blurred image of beauty, to have a more refining influence in a cottage home than many would suspect. Wherever a cherished bit of china or what not is found, there will be also found some tendency towards making the surroundings more worthy of it.

I found that our proceedings not a little puzzled Mr Wyatt; an earnest, anxious, good man, well known as a friend to the poor in all directions. He too for a time was under the impression that we might possibly be paving the way to introduce doctrinal matters, and felt it, I think, to be his duty to ascertain what these were. It was, I knew, not by chance he one morning made his appearance at the door of a cottage we happened to be at work in. I was busily engaged hammering in a nail for a picture, and did not turn my head when the sunlight streamed in through the open doorway, imagining that Lilian had re-entered, she having gone to borrow a broom from the next house.

'A more wrong-headed nail than this never existed! We must not forget nails the next time we go to Grayleigh, Lilian.'

'I beg your pardon.'

I turned hastily round and met the eyes of Mr Wyatt. Descending from the chair, as gracefully as might be, with due regard to its ricketiness, I offered my hand.

'How do you do, Mr Wyatt? We are not quite strangers, I think?'

'No, indeed,' he replied, looking not a little relieved. Though in the interests of his poor, he had made up his mind to find out who and what we were, he was too much a gentleman to enjoy doing it. I knew afterwards that he had feared having to do battle with some lady with objectionable views and an objectionable way of advocating them; and it was therefore natural enough he should be a great deal relieved to see one of the members of his small congregation. As I have said elsewhere, Lilian and I had, in the prosperous days, preferred attending the primitive little church on the road to Grayleigh, to going to the newly built and more highly decorated church on the hill. And as the congregation consisted mostly of labouring people and the small shopkeepers in the village, it was natural that the appearance of two strangers should attract some attention, which had led to his introducing himself, and a pleasant acquaintance springing up between us.

It was this little church which the inmates of the 'Home,' as it was gracefully designated, attended; sitting in the organ-loft, where they were out of range of curious eyes; a consideration for which I afterwards found they were indebted to Mr Wyatt. We had frequently passed them on their road to church; and I had been painfully struck by the hopeless, not to say sullen and discontented aspect of most of the women, as they filed slowly along, the matron's rich silks and velvets in too marked a contrast to the ugliness of her charge's attire, which I thought savoured unnecessarily of prison uniform for those who were supposed to be struggling to free themselves from past associations.

Then I was disappointed that my occasional smile and word, as we stood aside for them to pass into the porch, should be considered an offence by the matron, as it so evidently was. And I could not see why I should not offer a few violets I was carrying, which the eyes of one of the women seemed to ask for as we passed them one morning in the road.

'I am to give 'em back, Miss,' she exclaimed, running after me and putting them into my hand. 'It's against rules, please – that is, the mistress says I mustn't have them.'

'Well, I cannot present you with the beautiful sky, and that lark's song, and the glorious sunshine, for they are yours already; but please take my good-wishes and give me yours.'

She stood gazing at me a moment, then turned away without a word, and ran back.

'This,' continued Mr Wyatt, 'is a surprise, Miss Haddon. I did not at all expect to find you to be one of the mysterious ladies I have of late heard so much about from the cottagers here. Is Miss' —

'Yes; Miss Maitland is the other delinquent,' I smilingly replied, as he hesitated over the name, and so shewed me that he knew something of what had occurred. At this moment Lilian came in, her skirts and sleeves tucked up, a handkerchief tied corner-wise over her hair, and a broom in her hand.

'We really must contrive to squeeze a better broom than this out of next week's allowance, Mary; it won't go into the corners a bit.' (We had agreed to restrict ourselves to spending only so much a week upon our protégées, leaving the rest to our own ingenuity.) 'We cannot make brooms, you know; and oh' —

'Mr Wyatt, Lilian.'

He gave her a low bow in return for hers, and I fancied that I understood why he was a trifle more embarrassed with her than with me. Lilian had never looked more lovely than she did thus, her refined order of beauty idealising her working dress. The clear, deep-blue eyes, hair of unpurchasable gold, the soft rosy cheeks, and white delicately rounded arms bared, to the elbow, what a charming picture it was! I do not think I would even have dispensed with the little stray black, which had perched itself at the edge of a dimple, much more effectively than anything in the way of a patch could do it. One might have imagined her the beautiful Princess who went as serving-maid in the Ogre's castle, protected only by her goodness and innocence – all-sufficient protectors in fairy tales, and more than they are always allowed to be in real life – to obtain the release of her captive father. She was so natural too, and devoid of all attempts to attract; and only sensitive as a pure good girl, with a delicate sense of truth and honour, is sensitive.

'You have heard what we are attempting here, Mr Wyatt?' I asked.

'Yes;' slowly and awkwardly. 'But I am not altogether sure that I understand your plan.'

I gave him a little explanation of what our intentions were; and he listened gravely and politely, though I could see that I did not entirely succeed in proselytising him. He was ready enough to give us credit for good intentions; but when we were bold enough to ask his opinion as to our succeeding, he acknowledged that he had not much hope of our being able to do permanent good. And when Lilian a little triumphantly told him about our success with Jemmy Rodgers, he smilingly pointed out that that was a success which had been purchased. In truth he confessed that he belonged to the old school, and did not take kindly to innovations.

'I do not, for example, like seeing a lady doing such work as Miss Maitland is doing for people who have quite enough time to keep their own homes clean and neat, if they would only do so, instead of going down to spend their spare hours at the village ale-house.'

'But we are hoping to get them to do that, Mr Wyatt,' said Lilian. 'We are trying to make the homes more attractive than the ale-houses.'

'I can only hope you will succeed, Miss Mervyn.'

'Well, I call it a tiny bit of success to get Meg Lane, as they call her, to brighten her fire-grate and clean her window.'

'Purchased,' he replied, smilingly.

But I could see that he advanced his objections hesitatingly and doubtfully; and I felt that he would be ready enough to acknowledge that we were right, whenever we could prove that we were; and we did not despair of that in time. Moreover, he had now no fear of our attempting to disturb the faith of his flock.

We came off a great deal better with Mr Wyatt than with the district visitors at the cottages; though even they recognised the wisdom of non-interference, and kept aloof, paying their weekly visits in the afternoons when we had retired. Nevertheless, we quite understood why we were always finding certain tracts of a very decided tendency placed in our way, had old Sally Dent not informed us that we were regarded as not being quite 'safe.' We just worked on, and did not intrude ourselves upon the residents at the cottages; not even knowing them by sight, and making a détour on our way to church on Sundays, for the purpose of avoiding them.

CHAPTER XXII. – MORE WEAK THAN WICKED

Robert Wentworth took good care that our time should not hang heavily upon our hands when we were at home, urging us to work, and keeping us well supplied with books, such as he had gradually got me into the habit of reading – books which required some little mental exercise for their proper appreciation. Moreover, he demanded notes, a paraphrase, or criticism, upon all we read; being very exacting about our getting thoroughly to the root of the subject treated upon, and having no mercy upon what he termed a slovenly habit of thinking.

We were much amused at the tests he gave us, and the impossibility of throwing dust in his eyes. If Lilian wrote my thoughts upon a subject, and I hers, he detected which belonged to which with an unerring readiness which proved that our minds were as open books to him. The very difference in his treatment of us when he found us flagging, bantering – not to say taunting – me, and encouraging Lilian, I now think was a proof that he knew the kind of spur we each needed. And although I believed that he was doing all this for Lilian's sake, I was none the less grateful for the benefit it was to me. At his suggestion, Lilian was doing a little French with me, for which she gave me German; whilst our sketch-books were not allowed to lie entirely unused. All this, with what dear Mrs Tipper called our long walks – she did not as yet know how our mornings were employed – sent us healthily tired each night to bed.

Robert Wentworth came down twice and sometimes three times during the week; and after we had given him a résumé of the work we had done in the interval, we finished the evenings with music and singing. Lilian's voice was not her least charm. Then would come some triumph of dear Mrs Tipper's skill in the way of little appetising dainties for our substantial tea, and afterwards Lilian and I went along the lanes with him as far as the stile, which separated them from the fields, in the summer moonlight, bidding him goodnight there.

It was a pleasant life, though at the time I naturally could not think it the pleasantest; it was merely the pleasant peaceful prelude – the, so to speak, preparation for the fuller life to come. But best of all, Lilian was beginning to enter into it with real enjoyment, less as a life lived from duty than from love.

'It is what I never hoped for – to see my darling get over it so well as this!' confided dear Mrs Tipper to me.

'They cannot at anyrate call her broken-hearted at present,' was my cheerful rejoinder.

'No, indeed, dear. I shall begin now to hope that by-and-by some one more worthy of her may have a chance; and I shall yet live to see my Lilian's children about me. – And you too will be thinking of getting married presently, dear?' with what I fancied was an inquiring glance.

I murmured something to the effect that perhaps my time would come; even then shrinking a little nervously from entering into details.

'Of course it will, dear; and Lilian's too. Already there is Mr Wyatt making all sorts of excuses for finding his way to the cottage. A nice gentleman; isn't he, dear – shews what brings him so plain too; doesn't he?'

Yes, he did shew it plainly; no doubt of that. If he did not already love Lilian, he was on the very verge of it. But that was not at all in accordance with my hopes.

'You forget Mr Wentworth,' I put in smilingly. She looked up into my face for a moment; then bent over her knitting again, as I went on: 'I think you must have guessed what brings him so often down here now?'

'Yes, Mary; yes, I have, dear.'

'And so have I; but I suppose it's early days for talking of it yet.'

'Very well, dear; you know best about that, of course. I will only say that Robert Wentworth is a great favourite of mine.'

'That is because he is so good, auntie,' said Lilian, who had caught the last words as she entered the room. 'He is the very best and kindest friend we have known.'

'The very best, dearie?' I asked.

She flushed to her temples; then, after a moment, repeated in a low clear tone: 'The very best and kindest, Mary.'

I was quite satisfied. No love-lorn damsel could talk in that way. Arthur Trafford no longer disturbed her peace. Everything was going on favourably for Robert Wentworth; and the sooner poor Mr Wyatt was allowed to perceive the real state of the case, the better for his future peace.

Two months had glided thus pleasantly away. There was now only one shadow upon Lilian's mind, though that was an abiding one. The wrong done to the innocent mother was not likely to be forgotten by her child. It was that, and not the loss of her lover, which caused the soft yearning regretful expression that still lingered in the beautiful blue eyes.

Fortunately, we had accustomed ourselves to think of Arthur Trafford as Miss Farrar's lover, before the news reached us that it was so; and I was very proud of Lilian's calm reception of it. After that, it was easy to get over the additional information that the marriage was arranged to take place very shortly.

Marian adopted the tone – I think I knew by whom it was suggested – of Arthur Trafford having been badly treated by Lilian, who had cruelly cast him off; and that made matters easier for us all. As Marian said, Lilian could not blame her for accepting one whom she herself had rejected. Nor had she had any misgivings about his love. Fortunately for her own peace, she did not suspect that Arthur Trafford's love for her was less than hers for him. And the readiness with which he had transferred his affections was interpreted in the same convenient way. 'The truth is, he had not seen me when he engaged himself to Lilian,' she confided to me in a little aside. 'You knew he admired me from the very first; now, didn't you, Miss Haddon? I don't blame you now for being cross about his paying me such compliments when he was engaged to Lilian; he really couldn't help it, poor fellow! And I do believe that if Lilian had played her cards well, he would have acted honourably to her; he says he should. But you can't blame me for being glad things have turned out as they have, neither. Caroline says only envious people would blame me.'

I really did not much blame her. I suppose she acted up to her perception in the matter; and I know she meant now to be good-natured. I will do her the justice to say she was honestly glad to find that Lilian shewed no sign of distress at the engagement.

'If you had been miserable or disagreeable about it, I don't know what I should have done, dear,' she said with engaging confidence. 'It would be like that story in the what's-its-name, you know, two sisters in love with the same man. Though I don't think – I'm sure I shouldn't have poisoned you. I expect I should have joined your hands, and then died of a broken heart;' sentimentally.

At which Lilian broke into a smile, and Marian was satisfied. In truth, no one could now have imagined Lilian a love-sick damsel, so improved was she in health and spirits by our present life.

Marian was very pressing with us to be present at the wedding, which was to be a very grand one, she told us.

'But I tell Caroline, I shan't care for it a bit if Lilian won't be first bridesmaid. And it shouldn't cost you a penny, dear,' she urged. 'Everything of the very best, and made at Madame Michaud, if you will only say you will come?'

But Lilian was firm; and then Marian tried the effect of her persuasive powers upon Mrs Tipper.

'You really must, aunt. It would look worse for you to stop away than even for Lilian – my own aunt!'

But Mrs Tipper also shewed that it was not to be thought of; and Marian at length came to the conclusion that their refusal arose from their sense of the wrong done to Lilian's mother; though she was quite as much at a loss to account for that as for everything else we did.

'I don't see why you should be so put out about a thing which can't be helped. When it was thought that it was my Ma who had been taken in, I behaved sensibly about it; and why can't Lilian and you do the same?'

Great preparation were being made for the event; and a great deal of company – 'Caroline's' friends – was constantly at Fairview. Rumours reached us that the bridegroom expectant was not in very good health; indeed it was said that the marriage was being hastened on that account, a change of climate having been recommended for a while.

I saw him once only before his marriage, and that happened by chance. Had Lilian really suffered from his desertion of her – had I felt any desire to see her avenged – I must have been satisfied. As it was I felt almost inclined to pity him, as more weak than wicked. I do not believe that any utterly bad man would be as heartily ashamed of himself as Arthur Trafford appeared to be when he saw Lilian for the first time after his approaching marriage with 'Miss Farrar' was announced.

The Fairview party were attending morning service at the little church to which Lilian and I went. I do not think that they had the slightest expectation of seeing us there; since they could not know that we should choose the long walk to that out-of-the-way little church, in preference to attending the one in the village. Most probably they went there for the drive, or perhaps to create a little sensation, which Miss Farrar was candid enough to acknowledge she had a penchant for doing.

They were shewn into the best pew, as befitted people who had arrived in state, the old clerk himself seeing that their wants in the way of hassocks and hymn-books were duly supplied, before signing to his subordinate to cease pulling the bell, and stepping back into the vestry for Mr Wyatt, whom he always carefully buttoned into his reading-desk before shutting himself up in his own square box beneath. How thankful I felt that although Arthur Trafford could see Lilian, she was so placed that she could not see him. I was glad too that he should see her thus – shewing no traces of suffering from his desertion, her face blooming with the delicate rose-tint of health, and its whole expression calm, and sweet, and pure; whilst she joined in the service in a way which betokened no wandering thoughts, unconscious of the eyes bent upon her half in shame, half in regret. He was surprised, I fancied even disagreeably so, to find his loss borne so calmly as this. And though he no doubt persuaded himself that he was glad to see that his desertion had not permanently injured her, his vanity was wounded.

It was just as well that the bride-elect had no misgivings about herself, and was too much occupied in admiring some bracelets, which I suppose she was wearing for the first time, to notice the direction of her lover's eyes. She did not perceive us where we sat, and I contrived to whisper a few words so as to draw Lilian's attention from them, as they passed down the aisle on their way out. They had driven away before she knew that they had been there, and I was rejoiced to find that her walk home was none the less enjoyed for my telling her of it.

The following evening Lilian was seated at the piano trying a new song which Robert Wentworth had brought down with him. He was standing by her side, listening attentively and critically, stopping her every now and then, to make her go over the ground again, frankly pointing out defects of style or what not, as his habit was with all we did. A glorious July evening.

The world's comforter, with weary gait,His day's hot task has ended in the west.

I was sitting at the open window, my eyes turned towards the hill-side, bathed in the glory of departing day, my mind attuned to Lilian's music, and reflecting the couleur de rose of the scene outside. I was indulging myself with a peep into dream-land, though a little doubtfully, and somewhat as an interloper, liable at any time to be warned off the enchanted ground, which, in my self-consciousness, I told myself youth alone has a right to enter, when my attention was attracted towards Becky, standing at the door and beckoning me out of the room.