The Fairchild Family

by Mrs. Sherwood

  Grandmamma's History of Evelyn Vaughan. Part I.

  To teach little Francis his letters]

  "Will it not sound very strange to you, my dear children," said oldMrs. Fairchild, "to hear me talk of people, whom I knew very well, whowere born one hundred years or more ago? But when you know that I canremember many things which happened seventy years ago, and that I thenknew several people who were more than seventy years old--even Henrywill be able to make out more than a hundred years since the time thatthey were born."

  "Stop, grandmamma," said Henry, "and I will do the sum in the sand."

  Henry then took a stick and wrote 70 on the ground.

  "Now add to that another seventy, and cast it up, my boy," saidgrandmamma.

  "It comes," cried Henry, "to a hundred and forty; only think,grandmamma, you can remember people who were born a hundred and fortyyears ago: how wonderful!"

  "And the odd years are not counted," remarked Emily: "perhaps if wewere to count them they might come up to a hundred and fifty."

  "Very likely, my dears," said the old lady; "so do you all sit still,and I will begin my story.

  "One hundred and, we will say, forty years ago, there resided near thetown of Reading, in which I was born, a very wealthy family, descendedfrom the nobility, though through a younger son.

  "There are some reasons why I shall not mention the real name, orrather the first name of the family, for it had two; I will thereforegive the second, which was Vaughan. They had many houses and finelands, amongst which was The Grove, the place which we have now.

  "The Mrs. Vaughan who was married one hundred and forty years ago was avery particular woman, and insisted on abandoning all her pleasantplaces in the country, and residing in a very dull and dismalold-fashioned place just at the end of one of the streets at Reading. Ishall tell you more about that place by-and-by.

  "This lady had four daughters before she had a son; not one of thesedaughters ever married. They were reared in the greatest pride, and noone was found good enough to marry them. There was Mistress Anne, andMistress Catherine, and Mistress Elizabeth, and Mistress Jane, for inthese old days the title of Miss was not often used.

  "After many years, Mrs. Vaughan added a son to her family, and soonafterwards became a widow.

  "This son lived many years unmarried, and was what you, my children,would call an old man, when he took a young and noble wife. Thedaughter and only child of this Mr. Vaughan was about my age, and sheis the person whose history I am going to tell you.

  "There is a picture of her at The Grove in the room in which your dearcousins spent many of their early days. It is drawn at full length, andis as large as life. It represents a child, of maybe five years ofage, in a white frock, placing a garland on the head of a lamb; behindthe child, an old-fashioned garden is represented, and a distant viewof The Grove house in which she was born."

  "But, grandmamma," said Henry, "you have not told us that little girl'sname."

  "Her name was Evelyn," answered the old lady; "the only person I everknew with that name."

  "But it is a pretty one," remarked Lucy.

  "There were a great many people to make a great bustle about littleEvelyn, when she came: there were her own mother and her father, andthere were the four proud aunts, and many servants and other personsunder the family, for it was known that if no more children were born,Evelyn would have all her father's lands, and houses, and parks, andall her mother's and aunts' money and jewels.

  "But, with all these great expectations, Evelyn's life began withsorrow. Her mother died before she could speak, and her father also,very soon after he had caused her picture to be drawn with the lamb."

  "Poor little girl!" said Lucy; "all her riches could not buy heranother papa and mamma. But what became of her then, grandmamma?"

  "She was taken," added the old lady, "to live under the care of heraunts, at the curious old house I spoke of as being close at the end ofthe town of Reading; and she desired to bring nothing with her but thepet lamb, which, by this time, was getting on to be as big as a sheep,though it still knew her, and would eat out of her hand, and wouldfrisk about her.

  "The four Mistresses Vaughan were at the very head and top of formaland fashionable people. As far as ever I knew them, and I knew themvery well at one time, they were all form, and ceremony, and outsideshow, in whatever they did, until they were far, very far advanced inyears, and had been made, through many losses and sorrows, to feel theemptiness of all worldly things. But I have reason to hope that theeyes of some of them were then opened to think and hope for betterthings than this life can give; but I shall speak of them as they werewhen Evelyn was under their care, and when I was acquainted well withthem.

  "The entrance to the house where they lived was through heavy stonegates, which have long since been removed; and along an avenue formedby double rows of trees, many of which are now gone.

  "I have often, when a little child, been taken by my nurse to walk inthat avenue; and I thought it so very long, that had I not seen itsince, I could have fancied it was miles in length."

  "That is just like me, grandmamma," said Henry; "when I was a littleboy, I used to think that the walk through Mary Bush's wood was milesand miles long."

  "And so did I," added Emily; and then the story went on.

  "At the farthest end of this avenue," continued grandmamma, "the groundbegan to slope downwards, and then the house began to appear, but sohidden by tall dark cypress-trees, and hedges, and _walls_, I may callthem, of yew and box and hornbeam, all cut in curious forms and shapes,that one could only here and there see a gable, or a window, or door,but in no place the whole of the front. The house had been built many,many years before, and it was a curious wild place both within andwithout, though immensely large. The way up to the door of theprincipal hall was by a double flight of stone steps, surmounted withhuge carved balustrades. Nothing could, however, be seen from anywindow of the house but trees; those which were near being cut intoall sorts of unnatural forms, and those which were beyond the gardengrowing so thickly as entirely to shut out the rays of the sun from theground below."

  "I should like to see that place, grandmamma," said Lucy.

  "You would see little, my child," replied the old lady, "of what it wasseventy years ago. I am told that it is altogether changed. But if theplace was gloomy and stiff without, it was worse within, where the fourold ladies ordered and arranged everything. I can tell you how theypassed their days. They all breakfasted either in their owndressing-rooms or in bed, being waited upon by their own maids."

  "Why did they do that, grandmamma?" asked Henry.

  "I will tell you, my dear," answered the old lady. "At that time, whenI was a little girl, and knew those ladies, people dressed in thatstiff troublesome way which you may have seen in old pictures.

  "The ladies wore, in the first place, very stiff stays; and those whothought much of being smart, had them laced as tight as they could wellbear. Added to these stays, they wore hoops or petticoats wellstiffened with whalebone. Some of these hoops were of the form of abell with the mouth downwards--these were the least ugly; others weremade to stand out on each side from the waist, I am afraid to say howfar; but those made for grand occasions were nearly as wide as your armwould be, if it were extended on one side as far as it would go. Overthese hoops came the petticoats and gowns, which were made of therichest silk--for a gown in those days would have cost thirty or fortypounds. Then there was always a petticoat and a train; and these, infull dress, were trimmed with the same silk in plaits and flounces,pinked and puckered, and I know not what else. The sleeves were madeshort and tight, with long lace trebled ruffles at the elbows; andthere were peaked stomachers pinned with immense care to the peakedwhalebone stays. It was quite a business to put on these dresses, andmust have been quite a pain to walk in the high-heeled silk shoes andbrilliant buckles with which they were always seen. They also worewatches, and equipages, and small lace mob caps, under which the hairwas drawn up stiff and
tight, and as smooth as if it had been gummed."

  "Oh, I am glad I did not live then!" said Lucy, fetching a deep breath;"yet it is very pleasant to hear these stories of people who lived justbefore we did; and there is no harm in liking it, is there,grandmamma?"

  "None in the least, my child," said grandmamma; "the persons whoremember anything of those times are getting fewer and fewer every day.If young people, then, are wise, instead of always talking their owntalk, as they are too apt to do, they will have a pleasure in listeningto old persons, and in gathering up from them all they can tell ofmanners and customs, the very memories of which are now passing away.But now, Henry, my boy, you may understand why the Mistresses Vaughanalways breakfasted in their own rooms; they never chose to appear butin their full dress, and were glad to get an hour or two every morningunlaced, and without their hoops.

  "About noon they all came swimming and sailing down into a largesaloon, where they spent the rest of their morning. It was a vast lowroom, with bright polished oaken floors, and with only a bit of finecarpet in the middle of it. They each brought with them a bag forknotting, and they generally sat together in such state till it wastime for their airing.

  "This airing was taken in a coach-and-four; and they generally went thesame road and turned at the same place every day but Sunday throughoutthe week. They dined at two, and drank tea at five; for though they hadsome visitors who came to tea, they were too high to return thesevisits. They finished every evening by playing at quadrille; supped atnine, and then retired to their rooms."

  "What tiresome people!" said Henry; "how could they spend such lives? Iwould much rather live with John Trueman, and help to thatch, than havebeen with them."

  "But how did they spend their Sundays, grandmamma?" asked Emily.

  "They went to church in Reading," answered the old lady; "where theyhad a grand pew lined with crimson cloth. They never missed goingtwice; they came in their coach-and-four; they did not knot on Sundays,but I can hardly say what they did beside."

  Lucy fetched a deep breath again, and grandmamma went on.

  "It was to this house, and to be under the care of these ladies, thatlittle Miss Evelyn came, the day after her father's funeral. She wasnearly broken-hearted.

  "The Mistresses Vaughan were not really unkind, though very slow intheir feelings; so, after the funeral, they soothed the child, takingher with them from The Grove to their own house, where she afterwardsalways remained. But they did another unfeeling thing, without seemingto be aware of it: Evelyn's nurse had been most kind to her, but sheunhappily spoke broad Berkshire, and was a plain, ordinary-lookingperson; so she was dismissed, with a handsome legacy left by hermaster, and the poor little girl was placed under the care of a sort ofupper servant called Harris. Harris was charged never to use any butthe most genteel language in her presence, and to treat her with therespect due to a young lady who was already in possession of a vastproperty, though under guardians.

  "Three handsome rooms in one wing of the house on the first floor weregiven to the little lady and Harris; and an inferior female servant wasprovided to wait upon them in private, and a footman to attend theyoung lady in public. It was not the custom for young children then todine with the family; the only meal, therefore, which Evelyn took withher aunts was the tea, when she saw all the company who ever visitedthem; her breakfast and dinner were served up in her own rooms.

  "She was required to come down at noon, and to go down and salute heraunts and ask their blessing; and whenever any one of them declined thedaily airing, she was invited to take the vacant place as a greattreat.

  "Her education was begun by Harris, who taught her to read, to use herneedle, and to speak genteelly; it was afterwards carried on by mastersfrom Reading, for her aunts had no sort of idea of that kind ofeducation which can only be carried on by intellectual company andteachers. Harris was told that no expense would be spared for MissVaughan; that her dress must be of the first price and fashion; that ifshe desired toys she was to have them, and as many gift-books as St.Paul's Church-yard supplied.

  "As to her religious duties, Harris was to see that she was always verywell dressed, and in good time to go to Church with her aunts; that shewas taught her Catechism; and that she read a portion every day of somegood book; one of the old ladies recommending the _Whole Duty of Man_,another Nelson's _Fasts and Festivals_, a third Boston's _FourfoldState_, whilst the fourth, merely, it is to be feared, in opposition toher sisters, remarked, half aside to Harris, that all the books abovementioned were very good, to be sure, but too hard for a child, andtherefore that the Bible itself might, she thought, answer as well,till Miss Vaughan could manage hard words. As Harris herself had noparticular relish for any of the books mentioned, she fixed upon theBible as being the easiest, and moreover being divided into shortersections than the other three.

  "So Evelyn was to have everything that a child could wish for thatcould be got with money; and though Harris minded to the letter everyorder that was given her, yet she thought only of serving herself inall she did. In private with the child she laid praises and flatteryupon her as thick as honey in a full honeycomb; she never checked herin anything she desired, so long as she did nothing which mightdisplease her aunts, should it come to their knowledge; she scarcelyever dressed her without praising her beauty, or gave her a lessonwithout telling her how quick and clever she was. She talked to her ofthe fine fortune she would come into when she was of age; of hermamma's jewels, in which she was to shine; of the fine family houses;and, in short, of everything which could raise her pride; and there wasnot a servant about the house who did not address the little girl as ifshe had not been made of the same flesh and blood as other people."

  "Poor little girl!" said Lucy.

  "I am sorry for her," remarked Emily; "she must have been quite spoiledby all these things."

  "We shall see," continued the old lady. "It was in a very curious waythat I, many years afterwards, learned many particulars of the ways andcharacter of this little girl in her very early years, before I waspersonally acquainted with her. After my eldest son was born, being inwant of a nursemaid, Fanny, the very servant who had waited on MissEvelyn and Mrs. Harris, offered herself; and as I had known her welland loved her much, though I had lost sight of her for some years, Imost gladly engaged her. She told me many things of Mrs. Harris and herlittle lady, which I never could have known otherwise. She said thatMrs. Harris was so much puzzled at the ways of the little girl, thatshe used often to speak of it to Fanny.

  "'Miss Evelyn,' she said one day, 'is the queerest little thing I evermet with; I don't know where her thoughts are. When I am dressing herto go down to tea in the saloon, and putting on her nice smart dresses,and telling her to look in the glass and see how pretty she is--and tobe sure she is as pretty as any waxwork--she either does not answer atall, as if she did not hear me, or has some out-of-the-way question toask about her lamb, or some bird she has seen, or the clouds, or themoon, or some other random stuff; there is no fixing her to any sense.'

  "'Perhaps, Mrs. Harris,' Fanny said, 'she has heard your praises, andthose of other people, till she is tired of them.'

  "'Pish!' answered Mrs. Harris; 'did you ever hear of anyone ever beingtired of their own praises? The more they hear of them the more theycrave them; but this child has not sense enough to listen to them. Doyou know what it is for a person to have their wits a wool-gathering?Depend on it that Miss Vaughan, with all her riches and all herprettiness, is a very dull child; but it is not my business to say asmuch as that to the ladies; they will find it out by-and-by, that issure. But it is a bad look-out for you and me, Fanny, with such chancesas we have; for if Miss Evelyn was like other young ladies, we might besure to make our fortune by her. I have known several people in mycondition get such a hold on the hearts of children of highcondition, like Miss Vaughan, that they never could do without them inno way, in their after lives. But I don't see that we get on at allwith this stupid little thing; though for the life of me I ca
nnot tellwhat the child's head is running upon. She never opens out to me, orasks a question, unless it is about some of the dumb animals, or theflowers in the garden, and the trees in the wood.'

  "_I cannot tell what the child's head is runningon._"--Page 433.]

  "'Or the moon or the clouds,' Fanny added. 'She asked me the other daywho lived in the moon, and whether dead people went there.'

  "It is very clear, from the conversation between Mrs. Harris and Fanny,that Evelyn passed for a dull child, and had very little to say,because she had not found anyone since she had left The Grove who wouldtalk to her in her own way and draw out her young ideas, and encourageher to tell her thoughts. Her father had encouraged her to talk to himin her own way whilst he was spared to her; and her nurse had been thekindest, best of foster-mothers. Though, to be sure, she did speakbroad Berkshire, and though she was what learned people would call anignorant woman, nurse had the strongest desire to do right, for she hadbeen made to feel that God was the friend of His creatures. She feltsure that He would help those who behaved well; and she did what shecould to teach what she knew to her little girl. She told her that shemust be good, and not proud, or she would never go to the happy worldwhere angels are. She told her also, that though her mother was goneinto another world, she knew and was sorry when she was naughty.

  "Nurse was a particularly generous woman, and was always teaching thelittle lady to give things away; and she took great pains to make hercivil to everybody, whether high or low.

  "Nurse had loved to be much out of doors, and Evelyn loved it as much;and the two together used to ramble all about the place, into thefields and yards where animals were kept, and into the groves andgardens to watch the birds and butterflies, and to talk to thegardeners and the old women who weeded the walks. Nurse was alwaysreminding Evelyn to take something out with her to give away; if it wasnothing else than a roll or a few lumps of sugar from breakfast; forEvelyn's mother, just before her death, had said to her nurse:

  "'My child may be very rich, teach her to think of the wants of thepoor, and to give away.'

  "But the more happy Evelyn had been with her nurse, the more sad shewas with Harris. There was not anything which Harris talked of that thelittle girl cared for, and the consequence was that she passed forbeing very dull; because when Harris was talking of one set of things,she was thinking of something very different.

  "When Harris wanted her to admire herself in her new frocks, when shewas dressed to go down to tea, or at any other time, she was wishing tohave her pinafore on, or that she might run down to her lamb, which fedin a square yard covered with grass, where the maids dried the clothes.

  "Mr. Vaughan had died somewhat suddenly in the spring; the lamb wasthen only six weeks old. Evelyn came to live with her aunts immediatelyafter the funeral; and the summer passed away without anything veryparticular happening.

  "It was Harris's plan to indulge Evelyn as much as she possibly could,though she did not like the child; and therefore, when she asked to goout, which, by her goodwill, would have been every hour of the day, shewent with her. When she went to take anything to her lamb, and tostroke it, or to hang flowers about its neck, Harris stood by her. Butif Harris did not like Evelyn, she hated her pet still more; shepointed out to Evelyn that there were young horns budding on its brow;that it was getting big and coarse, and, like other sheep, dirty; andsaid that it would soon be too big for a pretty young lady like MissVaughan to stroke and kiss.

  "'But I _must_ kiss it,' answered Evelyn, 'because I got poor papa onceto kiss it; and I always kiss it in the very same place, just above itseyes, Harris--exactly there.'

  "'Just between where the horns are coming, Miss Vaughan,' said Harris;'some day, by-and-by, it will knock you down when you are kissing it,and perhaps butt you with its horns, till it kills you.'

  "That same day Mrs. Harris told Fanny that she would take good carethat Miss Vaughan's disagreeable pet should be put beyond her reachbefore very long--and, indeed, one fine morning, when Evelyn went downto the yard, the lamb was missing. There was much crying on the part ofthe little girl, and much bitter lamentation but her footman, havingbeen told what to say by Harris, said to his little lady, that theyoung ram had got tired of the drying-yard, and had gone out into thewoods to look for fresh grass and running water, and that he wassomewhere in the park.

  "'And is he happy?' asked Evelyn.

  "'Very happy,' answered the footman; 'so don't cry about him, Miss.'

  "'I will go and see if I can find him,' said the child.

  "'You had better not go near him now,' said Mrs. Harris; 'when petlambs become large sheep they often turn most savage on those who weremost kind to them.'

  "'He knew me yesterday,' replied the child, 'and let me stroke him.Would he forget me in one day?' and she burst into fresh tears."

  "I am sorry for her," said Henry, rubbing the sleeve of his pinaforeacross his eyes.

  "And there was one person who heard her," said grandmamma, "who wassorry for her also, and that was Fanny; but she did not dare to sayanything because of Mrs. Harris."

  The old lady then went on:

  "When the summer was past, and the weather less pleasant, Mrs. Harrispretended to have a pain in her face, and instead of going out alwayswith Evelyn, she sent Fanny.

  "This was a pleasant change for the little lady. She found Fanny muchmore agreeable to her. And Fanny was surprised to find how Evelynopened out to her during their walks.

  "For several days Evelyn led Fanny about the groves and over the lawnsof the park to look for the lamb. They could not find him, but thechild still fancied that he was somewhere in the park.

  "One morning Evelyn proposed that they should try the avenue, and lookfor the lamb in that direction. Fanny had no notion of contradictingEvelyn--indeed Harris had told her to keep her in good humour, lest sheshould tell her aunts that Harris seldom walked with her; so that waythey went. They had scarcely got to one end of the long row of treeswhen they saw a plain-dressed woman coming to meet them from the other.Evelyn uttered a joyful cry, and began to run towards her; Fanny ran,too, but the little girl quite outstripped her.

  "It was nurse who was coming; she had been forbidden the house; but shehad often come to the lodge, and often walked a part of the way alongthe avenue, if it were only for a chance of seeing her child.

  "Nurse was a widow, and had only one child living. He had a goodsituation in the school on the London road, which anyone may see at theentrance of the town. So nurse then lived alone, in a small house onthat road.

  "How joyful was the meeting between Evelyn and her nurse! how eagerlydid the little girl rush into those arms which had been the cradle ofher happy infancy!

  "After the first moments of joy were past, they sat down on a fallenand withered bough, between the rows of trees, and talked long and longtogether; so long, that Evelyn was almost too late to be taken to heraunts at noon. They talked of many things; and the good nurse forgotnot to remind Evelyn of what she had taught her by the desire of hermother; especially to remember to give; to be civil to all persons; tospeak when spoken to; to say her prayers; and not to be proud andhaughty.

  "The nurse also took care to tell Evelyn, that when she talked ofgiving, she wanted nothing herself, being in her way quite rich,through the goodness of Mr. Vaughan.

  "'So don't give _me_ anything, my precious child, but your love.'

  "This meeting with nurse served the purpose of keeping alive all thesimple and best feelings of Evelyn. The little one told her how herlamb had left her, and that they had been looking for it that verymorning.

  "'Well, my dear,' said the nurse, 'the poor creature is happier in thefields, and with its own kind, than you can make it; and if you are nottoo young to understand me, I would advise you to learn, from this lossof your lamb, henceforth not to give your heart and your time to dumbcreatures, to which you can do little good, but to your ownfellow-creatures, that you may help. Now, to make what I say plain,there is, at this very time, at the lod
ge, a pretty orphan boy, maybetwo years of age, who has been taken in for a week or so by Mrs.Simpson, at the lodge. She means to keep him till the parish can puthim somewhere, for she cannot undertake to keep him without more paythan the parish will give, having a sick husband, who is a heavy burdenupon her. Now, if you have--as I know you have--the means, why not helpher to keep this little boy? Why not get some warm comfortable clothingfor him, with your aunts' leave, and so help him forward till he wantsschooling, and then provide for that?'

  "'I will do it, nurse; I will do it,' answered Evelyn.

  "'God bless you, my lamb!' said nurse.

  "And soon after this nurse and Evelyn parted; but they both criedbitterly, as Fanny told me.

  "The name of the baby at the lodge was Francis Barr; and, as Fannysaid, he was a most lovely boy, with golden hair curling about hissweet face.

  "Evelyn had only to mention him to her aunts, and they immediatelyordered their steward to pay so many shillings a week to Mrs. Simpson,and to give another sum for his clothing; and this was, they said, tobe done in the name of Miss Vaughan.

  "They would have done better if they had let Evelyn look a little afterthe clothes, and, indeed, let her help to make them; but such was nottheir way; perhaps they thought Miss Vaughan too grand to help the poorwith her own hands. But it is always easier for the rich to order moneyto be paid than to work with their own hands.

  "Mrs. Harris was told of the meeting with the nurse by Evelyn herself;but the little girl did not tell her all that nurse had said, not fromcunning, but because she was not in the habit of talking to Harris. Shecould not have told why she did not; but we all know that there aresome people whom we never feel inclined to talk to, and we hardly knowwhy.

  "Mrs. Harris was, however, jealous of nurse, and thinking to put herout of her young lady's head, she used the liberty allowed her, andwent one day to Reading, and bought a number of toys and gilt books."

  "I wonder what they were, grandmamma," said Henry.

  "Fanny did not tell me," answered the old lady, "and I had all thispart of the story from Fanny.

  "Evelyn, she said, was pleased with them when they came, and put themall in a row on a side-table in her sitting-room, and changed theirplaces several times, and opened the books and tried to read them; butshe was hardly forward enough to make them out with pleasure. However,she picked a few out from the rest, and told Fanny to put them in herpocket; for her plan was, that Fanny was to read them to her when theywent out, which was done.

  "The day after she had picked out the books, she asked for some paperand a pen and ink, and set herself to write, by copying printedletters. It was well she was in black, as she inked herself well beforeshe had finished her letter.

  "Harris did not ask her what she was doing; that was not _her_ way; butshe looked at what she had written when it was done, and found it was aletter to nurse, blotted and scrawled, and hard to be read. When thisletter was finished, the child asked Fanny for some brown paper, and inthis she packed most of the toys and the letter, and having sent forher footman, she told him to get a horse and ride to nurse's and giveher the parcel and the letter.

  "The man looked at Mrs. Harris, as doubting whether he was to obey.Mrs. Harris was sewing, and looked like thunder.

  "'Miss Vaughan,' she said, 'did I hear aright? Is that parcel to betaken to nurse's?'

  "'Yes, Harris,' answered Evelyn; 'those things are mine, and I am goingto send them to nurse.'

  "'Upon my word, Miss Vaughan, you have chosen a very proper present forthe old woman; she will be vastly amused with all those pretty things.'

  "This speech was made in much bitterness, and meant the very contraryto what the words expressed; but Evelyn thought she meant what shesaid, and she answered:

  "'Yes, Harris, nurse will be so much pleased; I think she will put thethings in a row on her chimney-piece.'

  "Harris, as Fanny told me, did not answer again immediately, but satwith her head stooped over her work, whilst Evelyn repeated herdirections to Richard; and Richard looked for his orders to Mrs.Harris.

  "'Don't you hear what Miss Vaughan says, Richard?' she at length said,as she looked up with very red cheeks and flashing eyes; 'what do youstand gaping there for? Don't you know that all Miss Vaughan's ordersare to be obeyed? Make haste and carry the parcel.'

  "'And tell nurse to read my letter,' said Evelyn; 'and to send me wordif she has read it; she will be so glad, I know.'

  "As soon as Richard was gone, Harris called Evelyn to her, and, liftingher on her knee, she began to kiss and praise her, and to coax her, butnot in the old way by telling her of her beauty and her grandeur, butby flattering her about her kindness and her gratitude to nurse.

  "'I love nurse, Harris,' answered Evelyn.

  "'And she deserves it too, Miss Vaughan,' replied Harris; 'she tookcare of you when you could not have told if you were ill-used. Littleladies should always remember those who were kind to them in theirhelpless years. Come now, tell me what nurse said to you when you sawher last. I am sure she would tell you nothing but what was very good.'

  "'She told me,' said Evelyn, 'about my mamma being an angel; and shetold me that if I was good, and not selfish, and gave things away, thatI should go to heaven too; I should then, she said, be like a lambliving under the care of a good shepherd.'

  "Harris, on hearing this, as Fanny said, looked about her in that sortof wondering way which people use when they are thoroughly surprised;but it being very near twelve at noon, she had no time to carry on thediscourse further then. Evelyn's frock required to be changed, and herhair put in order; and then, as the custom was, Mrs. Harris had to leadthe child into the saloon to make her curtsey, and leave her till thebell rang to recall her.

  "When Harris had left the child with her aunts, she came up again toher own apartments. She came with her mouth open, being all impatienceto let out her thoughts to Fanny.

  "'Who would have guessed,' said she, 'that the wind blew from thatquarter, Fanny? and here I have been beating about and about to findout the child, and trying to get at her in every way I could think of,all the while missing the right one.'

  "'What do you mean, Mrs. Harris?' said Fanny.

  "'What do I mean?' answered Harris; 'why, how stupid you are, girl!have I not been trying to get to the child's heart every day these sixmonths, by indulging her, and petting her, and talking to her of herpretty face and fine expectations, and all that? and has she not allalong seemed to care as little for what I said as she would for thesound of rustling leaves?'

  "'Will you deny that it is very true?' answered Fanny; 'I think shehas heard of her grandeur and those things, till they are no news toher.'

  "'Maybe so,' answered Harris; 'but I never yet met with the person,young or old, who could be tired out with their own praises, howeverthey may pretend.'

  "'I was never much tired in that way,' answered Fanny.

  "'Maybe not,' said Mrs. Harris; 'what was anyone to get by honeying onelike you? Well, but to return to this child. I did set her down to benone of the sharpest; but for once I think I was mistaken. It is notoften that I am; but I have got a little light now; I shall get onbetter from this day forward, or I am much mistaken.'

  "'What light is it?' said Fanny.

  "'Why, don't you see,' answered Harris, 'that young as Miss Evelyn is,that old nurse has managed to fill her head with notions about death,and heaven, and being charitable, and giving away; and that the child'shead runs much, for such a child, on these things?'

  "'I cannot wonder at it,' answered Fanny, 'when one thinks how much thepoor orphan has heard and seen of death.'

  "'And who has not heard and seen much of death, Fanny?' answered Mrs.Harris: 'but for all that we must live and make our way in life.'

  "Then, as if she thought that she might just as well refrain fromopening herself any more to Fanny, she sent her away on some errand,and there the discourse ended. But not so the reflections of the youngservant on what she had said; she had let out enough to make he
r quiteunderstand a very great change, which took place from that day, in thebehaviour of Harris to Evelyn.

  "She never spoke to her again about her beauty and riches; she neverpraised her on these accounts; but she constantly spoke of hergoodness in giving away, of her civility and courtesy, of her being sohumble, of the very great merit of these things, and of the certaintythat these things would make her an angel in glory."

  "Oh, the cunning, wicked woman!" cried Henry.

  "Was not this sort of flattery more dangerous, grandmamma, than theother?" asked Lucy.

  But Emily said nothing; for Emily's besetting sin was vanity, and shefelt that she should have been more hurt by the praises of her beautythan of her goodness.

  "By this new plan Harris gained more on Evelyn," continued grandmamma,"than she had done by the first, and the child, as time went on, becamemore attached to her.

  "Two years passed away after this affair of sending the toys to nurse,without many changes. Nurse was not allowed to see Evelyn again, thoughthe little lady often sent her a note, and some little remembrance tonurse's son. Masters came from Reading to carry on Miss Vaughan'seducation; and she proved to be docile and industrious. She still keptup her love of being out of doors; and being of a friendly temper, sheoften visited the cottages close about, and took little presents, whichcaused the poor people to flatter her upon her goodness, as much asHarris did. She had no pet animal after she had lost her lamb; but shebecame very fond of Francis Barr, and often walked with Fanny to seehim. He soon learned to know her, and to give her very sweet smiles inreturn for all her kindness; and when he could walk by himself, healways hastened to meet her.

  "He was nearly six years younger than Evelyn, and was, therefore, notmuch more than four during the summer in which she was ten.

  "In the early part of that summer she used to go with Fanny most daysto the lodge, to teach little Francis his letters, and talk to himabout God; and they used to hear him say his prayers. Evelyn loved himvery much, and Harris praised her before every one for her goodness tothis poor orphan.

  "It would have been strange if all this dangerous flattery, togetherwith the pleasure the dear child had in bestowing kindnesses, which,after all, cost her but little, had not so worked on her mind as tomake her vain and self-satisfied.

  "But her heavenly Father, who had guided her so far, was not going toleave her uncared for now. He who had begun the work with her was notgoing to leave it imperfect.

  "I am now come nearly to what I may call the end of the first part ofmy story, and to the end of the young, and sunny, and careless days ofthe life of dear Evelyn Vaughan.

  "These careless days, these days of young and comparatively thoughtlesshappiness, were suddenly finished in a very sad and awful way.

  "I will not enter into many particulars of that affair, because it willgive you pain. In a few words it was this: Late one evening, in thesummer, little Francis Barr was playing in the road, when a carriage,coming along at a full gallop, the horses having taken fright andthrown the postillion, came suddenly upon the poor child, knocked himdown, and killed him on the spot. There was no time to send the news tothe great house; and, as it happened, Evelyn and Fanny went the nextmorning, before breakfast, to give the little boy his lesson. Whenarrived at the lodge, they found the door open and no one within. Mrs.Simpson had just gone into the garden to fetch more flowers to lay overthe little boy. Not seeing anyone in the kitchen, they walked into theparlour, and there poor Evelyn saw her little loved one cold, yetbeautiful, in death, having one small hand closed upon a lily, and theother on a rose.

  "Evelyn could not mistake the aspect of death; she uttered a wildshriek, and fell senseless to the floor. She was carried home, but shewas very ill for many days; and I may truly say never perfectlyrecovered from that time.

  "But now, my dear children," added grandmamma, "I begin to feel tired,and have only finished half my story; if all is well, we will come hereto-morrow, and then I shall hope to finish it."

  "I wish it was to-morrow," said Henry: and his sisters joined in thewish.

  "_To hang flowers round its neck._"--Page 445.]