The Fairchild Family

by Mrs. Sherwood

  Story of the Last Days of Mrs. Howard

  When Betty returned, Mrs. Howard was well satisfied]

  "It was about half a year after the things had happened which arerelated in the last story of Mrs. Howard, that Betty, one evening whenshe returned from market upon Crop, came into the parlour to hermistress and said:

  "'Ma'am, I have heard a bit of news; Mr. Bennet is going to leave thecountry.'

  "'Indeed, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard: 'how has that happened?'

  "'Some relation towards London has left him a property, and our countyis glad of anything that takes off the family.'

  "'Well, well, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard, and Betty knew that when hermistress said, 'Well, well,' it was a hint to her to say no more on thesubject. Mrs. Howard soon heard from other quarters that the Bennetswere going, but they were not to be off till the Lady Day next.

  "A week or two before that time, Betty had occasion to go again totown. Many things were wanted, and on such occasions Crop did notobject to carry panniers.

  "When Betty was quite ready, and Crop at the door, and the woman in thehouse who always came to take care of things on such occasions, shecame to ask her mistress if there was anything more not yet mentioned.

  "Betty never travelled in cold weather without a long blue cloak, and ablack felt hat tied over her mob.

  "'Yes, Betty,' replied Mrs. Howard, 'but you must be veryparticular--you must get me two small neat Bibles with gilt edges,bound in morocco, scarlet or green; I should wish them alike, and aclear print; besides which you must bring a young gentleman'spocket-book, all complete and handsome, with a silver clasp; andlastly, you must bring me a genteel equipage in chased silver, thefurniture quite complete and as it should be, and mind it is wellwrapped in paper.'

  "'Oh, ma'am,' said Betty, 'how shall I be able to choose one that willexactly suit for what you want? I am quite afraid to undertake thebringing of a genteel equipage, there is such a difference of opinionabout so tasty a thing.'

  "'Betty,' replied Mrs. Howard, 'you know I am always pleased with yourtaste; and if anyone in the world knows what I like, it is you, my goodgirl.'

  "Mrs. Howard often called Betty a good girl, though she was too old tobe so called; but it was a habit in those days in which the old ladylived.

  "'I should know your taste, ma'am,' said Betty, smiling, 'by this time,I should think--me who has lived in yours and your lady mother'sservice four-and-forty years next Candlemas;' and so saying Betty setout."

  "Pray, ma'am," asked Lucy, "what is an equipage?"

  "A fine carriage and horses, to be sure, Lucy," said Henry. "Lady Noblehad an equipage. I heard John once say, 'That's a fine equipage,' whenhe saw Lady Noble riding by."

  "Oh, Henry," said Emily, "surely what Betty was to bring with her couldnot be a carriage and horses wrapped in paper."

  Mrs. Goodriche smiled, and explained to the children what Mrs. Howardmeant: she told them that an equipage was a little case which held athimble, scissors, a pencil, or other such little matters, and, beingeither of gold or silver, was hung to the girdle to balance the greatwatches worn by the grandmothers and great-grandmothers of people nowliving.

  "Thank you, ma'am," said Lucy; "and now please to go on, and tell uswhat Mrs. Howard meant to do with this equipage."

  "When Betty returned," continued Mrs. Goodriche, "Mrs. Howard was wellsatisfied with what she had done; and the very next Sunday evening shetook occasion, after service, to speak to Master and Miss Bennet, andto invite them to tea for the next evening.

  "'I wonder,' said Master Jacky to Miss Polly, as they walked hometogether by their mother, 'what she can want with us. I promise you Ishan't go.'

  "'What's that you are saying, Jacky?' said Mrs. Bennet.

  "Miss Polly then told her mother of the invitation and what her brotherhad said.

  "'You had best go,' said Mrs. Bennet, 'and you may, perhaps, get somepretty present. I was told by one who was told by another, that Bettywas in town last week, and laying out money at the silversmith's, andat Mr. Bates the bookseller's, so I would have you go: you don't knowbut that the old lady may have some keepsakes to give you.'

  "'Well then,' said Jacky, 'if Polly goes, I will; for I don't see whyshe is to have the presents, and me nothing--but as to anything thatMrs. Howard ever gave me yet,' added the rude boy, 'I might put it intomy eye and see none the worse.'

  "'And whose fault is that?' said Miss Polly.

  "'It don't become you to talk, Miss,' replied Jacky; 'for if I have hadnothing, you have had no more--so there is half a dozen for one and sixfor another.'

  "By this discourse we may see," said Mrs. Goodriche, "that no greatchange for the better had yet passed on these rude children.

  "But they had got a notion that, as Jacky said, there were presents inthe wind, and they set out for Mrs. Howard's determining to behavetheir best, though they did not tell their thoughts to each other, forJacky hoped that Polly would disgrace herself and get nothing, andPolly had the same kind wishes for Jacky.

  "Mrs. Howard received them in the summer parlour, and they both behavedthemselves very well, but more out of spite for each other than fromlove of what is right in itself; but you shall hear by-and-by how Icame to the knowledge of these their thoughts.

  "Betty had made a cake, and there was a roast fowl and hot apple-tartfor supper; and between tea and supper Mrs. Howard showed them manycurious things, pictures, and dolls dressed in the fashions of heryouth, and a number of other things which she kept in a Japan cabinet,which always stood in the summer parlour while she lived in this house.

  "It was not till after supper that she brought out the two Bibles andthe pocket-book and equipage. She then laid them before her on thetable, and she spoke to the two children:

  "She began by saying that as they were going out of the country and shewas far in years, she might, perhaps, never see them again in thisworld. She then spoke, in her own sweet warm way, of what our dearSaviour has done for us, and when she had said as much as she thoughtthe children could bear, she presented each a Bible, having writtentheir names in them. She next took the other presents in her hands:

  "'And these, my dears,' she said, 'I ask you to accept. I am sorry ifon former occasions I may have seemed harsh to you, but these littlegifts are to prove that I am truly sorry if ever I gave you pain; whenyou look at them you will think of me, and know that nothing would evergive me more delight than to hear that you were both walking in theways of holiness.'

  "She then put the pocket-book into Jacky's hand, and the equipage intoMiss Polly's; but she hardly expected what followed. The two childrenburst into tears; Jacky rubbed his eyes to hide his; but Miss Pollysprang from her chair, and fell weeping into Mrs. Howard's arms.

  "'We will, we will try to do better, ma'am,' she said; 'we willindeed.'

  "As the children walked home they said not one word to each other; anda very few days afterwards the family left the country, Mr. Bennet nothaving had even the decency to call and say good-bye to the old lady.

  "Mrs. Howard was half-way between sixty and seventy when the Bennetsleft the country, and was supposed by many to be older, for she haddressed like an old woman for many years; her hair had long been gray,and she had always been a weakly person, very small and very pale.

  "She, however, continued to live in this house as many as seventeenyears after the Bennets were gone, and every year till the last had herchildren's party; but a change was coming on her household--Crop haddied years before, and Betty afterwards always went to town in themarket-cart; but what was the loss of Crop to the loss of Betty?

  "Betty was younger than Mrs. Howard, but she was called away beforeher; she had lived forty years with Mrs. Howard in this very house, andthe loss could not be made up to her in this world.

  "Mrs. Howard had a great-nephew, a surgeon, of the name of Johnson, wholived in a fair village, called Pangbourne, in Berkshire; and when heheard of the death of Betty, and how low his aunt was, he came to her,and persuaded her to
leave the country, and go and reside near to him.She was at first unwilling to go, but was at last persuaded; she tooknothing with her but her favourite chair, her old round table, herbooks, and her cabinet. Her nephew got her some very pleasant rooms ina house called the Wood House, about half a mile from the village,towards the hills which are near the place. That side of Pangbourne wasin those days almost a continued wood coppice, with occasional talltrees towards the hills, and there was a narrow road and raised paththrough the wood to the town.

  "Mrs. Howard's parlour had an old-fashioned bow-window in it, lookingto the road, though somewhat raised above it; and Mrs. Howard, as oldpeople do, loved in fine weather to sit in the bow, and see the fewpeople who passed.

  "Every day her kind nephew came to see her, and now and then shereturned his visit; but she was getting very infirm, though she hadlost neither sight nor hearing, could read and work as in her youngerdays, and having got over the first shock of losing Betty, and thefatigue of the change, her faith in God's love was making her as happyas she had been before; she liked the people also who kept the house,and made herself very pleasant to them. Though she went to Pangbournein the autumn, she did not, until the month of April, find the pleasureof sitting in the bow-window.

  "It was then that she first noticed two little girls passing andreturning every day at certain hours to and from the village.

  "They were so near of a size that she thought they must be twins. Theywere very fair, and very pretty, and very neat. They wore light greenstuff frocks, with lawn aprons and tippets, and little tight neat silkbonnets of the colour of their frocks. They both always carried a sortof satchel, as if they were going and coming from school; and there wasoften with them, when they went to the village, either a man or womanservant, such as might be supposed to belong to a farmhouse. Theyoften, however, passed by the window in the evening without a servant,and sometimes were met by a servant near the house. These little onescould not, from their appearance, have been more than seven years ofage.

  "As Mrs. Howard watched them from day to day, she thought them thepleasantest little people she had seen for a long time; and all herancient love for children, which age and weakness had almost made herfancy was nipped and blighted, began to spring up again and blossom asflowers in May. She wished to get acquainted with these fair ones, butshe took her own way to do so.

  "She began one morning, when her window was open, by giving them a kindsmile as they were walking gravely by, with a man in a smock-frockbehind them. On seeing this smile they both stopped short and droppedformal curtseys.

  "From that time, for a week or more, these smiles and these curtseyspassed between the old lady and the twins twice every day regularly.Before the end of the week the children had left off looking grave atthe lady, and gave smile for smile. You may be sure that Mrs. Howard,though she had not poor Betty and Crop to send on her errands, didmanage to get some pretty toys ready to give these little girlswhenever the time should come when she should think it right to makeherself better acquainted with them; but she thought that she wouldobserve their ways first, and in doing so she saw several things whichpleased her. Once she saw them give a poor beggar some of what had beenput in their satchels for their dinners; and she saw them another timepick up something which a very old man had dropped, and give it him aspolitely as they would have done to my lord judge, though it was only apotato which he had dropped from a basket. Seeing this it reminded herof the old man and his bundle of sticks, and of the ill-behaviour ofMaster Bennet; and then all those old days came fresh to her mind. Mrs.Howard had sent to a friend in London to get the toys--two dollsexactly alike, and the histories of Miss Jemima Meek and Peter Pippinwere the things she sent for; and they had not arrived a week when Mrs.Howard found a use for them. It was the beginning of July, and a veryhot close day; Mrs. Howard sat at her window, and saw the little onesgo as usual towards the village; it was Saturday, and she knew thatthey would be back again about one, for it was a half-holiday. The heatbecame greater and greater towards noon; there was not a breath of air,and the sun was hidden by a red glaring mist.

  "'We shall have a tempest,' said Mrs. Howard to a maid who had beenhired to wait upon her; 'I hope the little girls will get home beforeit comes on--have they far to go?'

  "When Mrs. Howard had explained what little girls she meant, the maidtold her that they were the children of a farmer of the name ofSymonds, and that the house was not a half-mile distant up the lane.

  "Whilst Mrs. Howard was talking with the servant, the heavens had grownblack, the clouds hung low; there was a creaking, groaning sort ofsound among the trees, and the larger birds arose and flew heavily overthe woods, uttering harsh cryings.

  "'It's coming,' said the servant; and at the same instant the twolittle ones appeared walking from the village.

  "'There they are,' cried Mrs. Howard; and at the same moment atremendous flash of lightning covered the whole heavens, followed by apeal of awful thunder. Mrs. Howard put her head out of the window, andcalled the little girls, who, from very fright, were standing still.

  "They gladly obeyed the call, the maid went down to meet them, and thenext minute they stood curtseying within the parlour-door. The maid hadseen a boy who had been sent to meet them, and sent him back to tellhis mistress that the Misses were with the lady, and that she wouldkeep them till the storm was over.

  "'What lady am I to say?' asked the boy.

  "'Our lady,' replied the maid; 'Surgeon Johnson's aunt.'

  "The boy ran home, and told Mrs. Symonds not to be uneasy, for thelittle Misses were safe with Madam Johnson, who lodged at the WoodHouse; so Mrs. Symonds was made easy about her pretty daughters.

  "'Well, my dears,' said Mrs. Howard, putting her hands out to thelittle people, 'I am glad to see you in my parlour.'

  "'Thank you, ma'am,' said one of them; and the other repeated the samewords.

  "As they spoke they came near, and put each a hand into Mrs. Howard's.

  "'Let me look at you, my children,' said the old lady in her pleasantsmiling way; 'you are like two lilies growing out of one root; I cannottell one from the other; what are your names?'

  "'I am Mary, ma'am,' said the eldest.

  "'And I am Amelia,' added the other.

  "'Amelia,' said Mrs. Howard, 'why, that is my name: but which is theoldest?'

  "'We came to our mother the same day,' replied Mary; 'but I came first,only a very little while though.'

  "'Indeed!' said Mrs. Howard.

  "Mrs. Baynes had come into the parlour after the children, to see andhear what was going forward; and now she thought it time to put in aword.

  "'Yes, ma'am,' she said, 'they are twins; they are the only ones theirmother ever had, and they are two pretty Misses, and very goodchildren. Are not you very good, my precious dears?'

  "The two little ones turned to her; and answered both together:

  "'No, ma'am.'

  "Mrs. Howard rather wondered at this answer, and said:

  "'Not good, my dears, how is that?'

  "'We wish to be good, ma'am,' said one of the little girls, 'but we arenot.'

  "'Well to be sure!' remarked Mrs. Baynes; 'but you have a very goodmamma, my little dears.'

  "'Mamma is good to us,' said Mary.

  "'But God is the only real good person,' added Amelia.

  "Mrs. Howard was rather surprised, but as the storm was still gettingmore frightful, she moved her chair, shut the window, and sat in themiddle of the room; the two little ones in their fear clinging to her,whilst she put an arm round each of them.

  "Mrs. Baynes went out to close the windows, and they were lefttogether.

  "Peal came after peal, and flash after flash; and the old lady andchildren trembled.

  "'We ought not to fear,' said Mrs. Howard; 'it is wrong; is not thelightning in the hands of God?'

  "'We will try not to be afraid,' said the little ones; and they clungcloser to Mrs. Howard.

  "And now there came a fearful hailstorm, patter, patter,
against thewindow; and when the hail ceased the rain came pouring down.

  "'Now, my loves, let us thank God,' said Mrs. Howard, 'the danger ispast.'

  "The little ones, with that quick obedience which we see in childrenonly who are well brought up, joined their hands and said, 'Thank God!'but they expressed some fear lest their mother should be frightenedabout them.

  "'We will see about that,' said Mrs. Howard; and she rang the hand-bellwhich always stood on the table, for bells were not then fixed oncranks and wires in every room as they are now.

  "Up came Mrs. Baynes again, and told the little ones that their motherknew where they were, for she had sent her a message by the boy.

  "'Then we can stay, ma'am,' said the children, quite pleased: and Mrs.Howard asked to have the dinner sent up, requesting Mrs. Baynes to makeup a little more from her own pantry, if she could.

  "'That shall be done, ma'am,' she answered; and she added some eggsand bacon and a currant tart to Mrs. Howard's four bones of roast lamb.

  "'We should like to dine with you, ma'am,' said one of the littlegirls, 'and to drink tea with you sometimes.'

  "Mrs. Howard did not yet know one from the other, but she felt that allher old love for children was burning up again in her heart.

  "'I am old, my dears,' she answered, 'and cannot bear noise and bustle;if you can be quiet, I shall be glad to see you often, but if you tireme I cannot have you.'

  "'I hope we shall be quiet,' they answered; and then they asked her ifshe was _very, very_ old.

  "She told them she was eighty-two; and they said to each other, 'Thenwe _must_ be very quiet.'

  "The maid came in to lay the cloth, and they seemed quite amused bylooking at her. The table was very small, but they said there would bequite room; and by Mrs. Howard's direction they went to her bedroom,took off their bonnets, and the maid combed their pretty curling hair.

  "They behaved as well as children could possibly do at table, thoughthey prattled a little, and told Mrs. Howard of the animals they had athome, their kittens and the old cat, and an owl in the garden calledRalph, and many other things. When the dinner was removed, Mrs. Howardsaid she had a great treat for them.

  "'What is it, ma'am?' they said.

  "'Something very nice,' replied the old lady; and going to the cornercupboard, she brought out a doll's cradle, and a small trunk full ofdoll's clothes, and the two new dolls both wrapped in the paper inwhich they had come from London.

  "'Now,' she said, 'these are dolls which I keep for my visitors, andwhen you are here you may play with them. I do not call them yours,only when you are here; but you may choose which you will call your ownin this house. Their names are Mary and Amelia.'

  "'Oh, ma'am! Oh, ma'am!' cried the children; they were too glad to sayanother word.

  "'You may take out the clothes from the trunk and dress them; but,before you go, you must put on their night-dresses, and put them to bedin the cradle, and restore all the other clothes to the trunk.' Thelittle ones quite trembled with joy; they were past speaking. 'Now,'said Mrs. Howard, 'go into the bow-window. The lightning is past. Imust keep in my chair, and you must not disturb me. If the day wasfiner I should let you go into the garden to play, but to-day youcannot.'

  "_The happy little girls went with the dolls into thebow-window._"--Page 174.]

  "The happy little girls went with the dolls into the bow-window, andMrs. Howard got her usual short sleep. They did not make any noise. Inall their behaviour they showed that they had been well brought up.

  "They drank tea with Mrs. Howard, and were very busy after tea inshowing all the clothes to their old kind friend, and in packing themup in the trunk, and putting the dolls in the cradle, and restoring allthe things to the place from whence they had been taken.

  "Mrs. Howard saw them kiss the dolls, and heard them wish them agood-night when they had done.

  "Mrs. Symonds had sent her green market cart and cloaks for her littlegirls. When the cart came they both kissed Mrs. Howard, and asked herif they had been quiet.

  "'Very quiet, my dears,' she answered.

  "'Then may we come again?'

  "'You may, my darlings,' answered the old lady; 'and next Saturdayshall be the day, if all is well.'

  "The fair little creatures did come on the day fixed, and the manwho fetched them home that night brought Mrs. Howard a small creamcheese and several pats of fresh butter, with many, many thanks fromMrs. Symonds for her great kindness to her children.

  "From the day of the thunderstorm till the end of the summer the littlegirls spent Saturday afternoon, every week, with Mrs. Howard, and nowand then stopped an hour with her on other days; and never passed thewindow without speaking to her, often coming in with flowers, or fruit,or a fresh egg, or some little thing from the garden or poultry-yard.Thus such a friendship grew up between the old lady and these littlegirls, that one might have thought that Mrs. Howard must have beentheir grandmother.

  "Often and often she would hear them read a chapter, or repeat a hymn,and do what she could to improve their minds; she taught them to singsome fine old psalm tunes, and she also taught them some new stitchesin the samplers they were working. Many times she walked between them alittle way in the wood, whilst they carried the dolls, and in thesewalks she often told them stories, so that they loved her more and moreevery day, and tried more and more to please her.

  "All this time Mrs. Symonds had been so busy with the work of the farmthat she had not found time to come herself to thank Mrs. Howard forall she was doing for her little ones; and it was rather strange thatall this time she had understood that the kind old lady's name wasJohnson. The children never called her anything but 'our nice lady,'and never thought of any other name for her.

  "But the harvest-time being over, Mr. Symonds told his wife that shemust not put off calling on the lady any longer.

  "'And be sure,' he said, 'that you take something nice in your hand, orlet the boy carry it after you; some nice cakes and butter pats, oranything else; and you may as well go and meet the children as theycome home this evening, and go in with them.'

  "Mrs. Symonds was one of those old-fashioned wives who never wentanywhere but to church, and as her church was not at Pangbourne sheseldom passed the Wood House. She, however, made up her basket ofpresents, and having dressed herself neatly, she took the boy and wentto meet her children.

  "She met them a little above the Wood House, and they turned back withher, and soon brought her to the door of Mrs. Howard's parlour: therethey knocked, and the old lady having called to them to come in, thetwins entered, leading their mother.

  "But how great was their surprise when their mother, at the sight ofMrs. Howard, uttered a cry, ran forwards and threw her arms round theold lady's neck.

  "'Oh, dear, dear Mrs. Howard,' she said, 'is it you? Can it be you?'

  "Mrs. Howard did not know Mrs. Symonds, and as she drew herself civillyfrom her arms, she said:

  "'Indeed, ma'am, I have not the pleasure of knowing you.'

  "'Not remember Polly Bennet?' replied Mrs. Symonds, 'but I rememberyou, my best and dearest friend, and shall remember you, for I havecause to do so, when time shall be no more.'

  "Mrs. Howard now herself came forward and kissed Mrs. Symonds. Thetears stood in the old lady's eyes, and she placed her old thin handsin the other's.

  "'And are you,' she said, 'the mother of these dear little girls? andhave I lived near you so long and not known you? Now I think I cantrace the features; sit down, my dear friend, and tell me all aboutyourself and your family.'

  "'I have not much to say,' answered Mrs. Symonds; 'my parents are dead,and my brother living far off: and I have been blessed beyond mydeservings in a good husband and these dear children.'

  "'Dear, indeed,' said Mrs. Howard.

  "'But how can I value enough what you have done for me, Mrs. Howard?'said Mrs. Symonds, 'and through me, in some sort, to my mother andfather before their death.'

  "'I do not understand you,' said Mrs. Howard. />
  "Mrs. Symonds then told the old lady how she had been affected by thelast kindness which she had shown to her and her brother.

  "'When you sent for us, dear madam,' she said, 'we accepted yourinvitation because we expected presents; but with presents we expectedalso, what we had well deserved, a severe lecture. But when you spoketo us, as you did, with such amazing kindness--when you even almostbegged our pardons if you had been hard upon us, which you neverwere--when you spoke to us of our Saviour, whilst your eyes filled withtears, we were cut to the heart and filled with shame, and we thenresolved to read the Bibles you gave us. And we never could forget yourwords.

  "'The work, indeed, is of God; but you, dear lady, were made theminister of it in the commencement. You were the first person who mademe and my brother to understand that the new spirit imparted by God toHis children is the spirit of love.'

  "Mrs. Symonds said much more; indeed she went on speaking till Mrs.Howard burst into tears of joy and thankfulness.

  "The little ones were frightened to see their mother and Mrs. Howardweeping, and could not at first be made to understand that they werecrying for very joy. When they understood that Mrs. Howard was an olddear friend of their mother's, they became happy again.

  "What a pleasant party there was that evening in the bow-window! thewhite cakes and fresh butter and cream were added to the feast; andwhat a delightful story was there to tell to Mr. Symonds when his wifeand children got home!

  "'Tell the old lady,' said Mr. Symonds, 'that I should be ever ready toserve her to the last drop of my blood.'

  "From that time," continued Mrs. Goodriche, "till the death of Mrs.Howard, which happened in her ninetieth year, Mr. and Mrs. Symonds werea son and daughter to her. Mary and Amelia never both left her;sometimes one, and sometimes both, being continually with her."

  "This is a beautiful story," said Lucy.

  "I wish it was longer," said Henry; "can't you tell us more, ma'am?"

  "Not now, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche, "we must go in now; and,indeed, I know not that I have any more to tell."

  It was late when the family got home. As they were returning, Mrs.Fairchild told Mr. Fairchild the story of old Mrs. Howard, whichpleased him much.