The Three Brides

by Шарлотта Мэри Йондж

A finger's breadth at hand may mar A world of light in heaven afar; A mote eclipse a glorious star,

  An eyelid hide the sky.-KEBLE.

  The dinner was over, and Cecil was favouring the audience with a severely classical piece of music, when, under cover thereof, a low voice said to Julius, "Now, really and truly, tell me how he is getting on?"

  "Really and truly, Jenny?"

  "Well, not as you would tell mamma, for instance; but as you think in your secret soul."

  "I am sorry you think me so duplex."

  "Come, you understand how anxious I am about the boy."

  "Exactly." And they both laughed.

  "Is that all?" said Joanna Bowater.

  "Really and truly it is! Rose can manage him much better than I can."

  "He is very fond of her; but does he-is he-is his heart in his work?" asked the sister, looking with her honest eyes earnestly at Julius, her contemporary and playfellow as a child, and afterwards the companion with whom she had worked out many a deep problem, rendering mutual assistance that made each enter in no common degree into the inner thoughts of the other.

  Julius smiled. "I doubt whether he has come to his heart yet."

  "Why should he be so young? Think what you were at twenty-three."

  "I never had Herbert's physique; and that makes an immense difference. I had no taste or capacity for what is a great privation to a fine young fellow like him. Don't look startled! He attempts nothing unfitting; he is too good and dutiful, but-"

  "Yes, I know what that but means."

  "Nothing to be unhappy about. You know how blameless he has always been at Eton and Oxford; and though he may view his work rather in a school-boy aspect, and me as a taskmaster, as long as he is doing right the growth is going on. Don't be unhappy, Jenny! His great clear young voice is delightful to hear; he is capital at choral practices, and is a hero to all the old women and boys, the more so for the qualities that earnestness cannot give, but rather detracts from."

  "You mean that he is not in earnest?"

  "Don't pervert all I say! He is not past the time of life when all appointed work seems a task, and any sort of excuse a valid cause against it; but he is conscientious, and always good-humoured under a scolding,-and Rosamond does not spare him," he added, laughing.

  "Then you don't think there has been a mistake about him?" said Jenny, in a low voice of alarm.

  "I have little doubt that when anything develops his inner life, so as to overcome the great strong animal that demands play and exercise, he will be a most useful clergyman."

  "Perhaps he is too young, though I don't see how it could be helped. Papa always intended it, because of the living; and Herbert never wished anything else. I thought he really desired it, but now I don't know whether he did not only take it as a matter of course."

  "Obedience is no unwholesome motive. As things stood, to delay his ordination would have been a stigma he did not deserve; and though he might have spent a year with advantage in a theological college, pupilage might only have prolonged his boyhood. It must be experience, not simply years of study, that deepens him."

  "Ah, those studies!"

  "To tell the truth, that's what I am most uneasy about. I take care he should have two hours every forenoon, and three evenings every week, free; but when a man is in his own neighbourhood, and so popular, I am afraid he does not get many evenings at home; and I can't hinder Bindon from admonishing him."

  "No," said the sister; "nothing will stir him till the examination is imminent; but I will try what I can do with him for the present. Here he comes, the dear old idle fellow!"

  "Joanie, here you are at last, in conclave with the Rector. Lady Rose wants me to sing, and you must accompany me. No one is so jolly for picking one up."

  'Picking one up' was apt to be needed by Herbert, who had a good ear and voice, but had always regarded it as 'bosh' to cultivate them, except for the immediately practical purposes that had of late been forced on him. The choral society had improved him; but Jenny was taken aback by being called on to accompany him in Mrs. Brown's Luggage; and his father made his way up to him, saying, "Eh, Herbert! is that the last clerical fashion?"

  "'Tis my Rectoress who sets me on, sir," was Herbert's merry answer, looking at her. "Now, Lady Rose, you'll keep me in countenance! My father has never heard you sing Coming through the Rye."

  "No, no, Herbert, my singing is only to amuse little boys. Here's the higher order of art!"

  For Cecil was leading a young lady to the piano, and looking as if she by no means approved of such folly, though everybody had listened to the Poor Old Cockatoo, laughed and applauded heartily; and the ensuing performance seemed to be unappreciated by any one except Raymond and Cecil themselves.

  Anne was sitting in a corner of the sofa, with a straight back and weary face, having been driven out into the throng by the old friends who came to sit with Mrs. Poynsett; but she brightened as Miss Bowater took a seat beside her, and accepted her inquiries for Captain Charnock far more graciously than the many which had preceded them. Was not her likeness in his album? And had he not spoken of her as one whom Anne would like?

  Soon Joanna had led her to tell not only of Miles's last letter, but of those from Glen Fraser, of which she had spoken to no one, under the impression that nobody cared. She even spoke of the excellent farm and homestead which Mr. Van Dorp wanted to sell before going to the Free State, and which her father thought would exactly suit Miles.

  "Does he mean to settle there?"

  "Oh, yes; he promised me to leave the navy and take me home as soon as this voyage is over," said Anne, eagerly. "If the Salamanca only puts in for long enough, he might run up to Glen Fraser, and see Bocksfeld Stoop, and settle it all at once. I am sure he would be delighted with it, and it is only two miles from Mr. Pilgrim's."

  "I'm afraid you can never feel this like home," said Jenny.

  "Miles wanted me to know his family, and thought I should be useful to his mother," said Anne; "but she does not want anything I could do for her. If she has Raymond, she seems to need nobody else."

  "And have you nothing to do?"

  "I have letters to write to Miles and to them all at home; and I am making a whole set of shirts and stockings for papa and the boys-it will spare mamma and Jeanie, and I have plenty of time."

  "Too much, I am afraid! But Herbert said you were very useful at the Work Society at Wil'sbro'."

  "Not now."

  "Indeed!"

  "No," in the old cold dry tone. But while Jenny was doubting whether to inquire further, innate sympathy conquered, and Anne added, "I wonder whether I did wrong!"

  "As how?" asked Joanna, kindly.

  "They said"-she lowered her voice-"I must never speak on religious subjects."

  "How do you mean? What had you done?"

  "One day I found a woman crying because her husband had gone away to seek work, so I told her my husband was further away and repeated the texts I like. She was so much comforted that I printed them on a card for her."

  "Was that all?"

  "No; there was another poor dear that was unhappy about her baby; and when I bade her pray for it, she did not know how, so I had to tell her a little. There is one who does know her Saviour, and I did love to have a few words of peace with her."

  "And was that what was objected to?"

  "Yes; they said it would change the whole character of the institution."

  "Who did?"

  "Cecil-Mrs. Charnock Poynsett. I think Lady Tyrrell and Mrs. Duncombe desired her. I thought it was no place for me where I might not speak one word for Christ, and I said so; but since I have wondered whether the old Adam did not speak in me, and I ought to have gone on."

  "My wonder," said Jenny, indignantly, "would be what right they had to stop you. This was private interference, not from the Vicar or the committee."

  "But I am not a real visiting lady. I only go to help Cecil."

  "I see; but why didn't you ask Julius what was
right? He would have told you."

  "Oh, no, I could not."

  "Why not?"

  "It would seem like a complaint of Cecil. Besides-"

  "Besides?"

  "I don't think Julius is a Christian."

  The startling announcement was made in so humble and mournful a voice as almost to disarm Jenny's resentment; and before she had recovered enough for a reply, she was called to take leave of her parents.

  Her brother was the professed object of her visit, and she was only at the Hall because there was no accommodation at his lodgings, so that she had no scruple in joining the early breakfast spread for the Rector and his wife, so as to have the morning free for him; but she found Julius alone, saying that his wife was tired after the party; and to Jenny's offer to take her class, he replied, "Thank you, it will be a great kindness if you will teach; but Rose has no regular class. Teaching is not much in her line; and it is a pity she should have to do it, but we have to make the most of the single hour they allow us for godliness."

  "Don't you utilize Mrs. Charnock? or is she not strong enough for early hours?"

  "Poor Anne! The truth is, I am afraid of her. I fancy all her doctrine comes out of the Westminster Catechism."

  "Could Calvinism be put in at seven years old? Would not it be a pouring of stiff glue into a narrow-necked phial?"

  "Result-nil."

  "A few pure drops might got in-and you could give her books."

  "It had struck me that it might be wholesome work for her; but the children's good must stand first. And, timid and reserved as she seems, she insisted on preaching at the work-room, so that Cecil had to put a stop to it."

  "Are you certain about that preaching?"

  "Rose heard of it from Cecil herself."

  "Did she ask what it amounted to?"

  "I don't know; perhaps I had better find out. I remember it came after that ride to Sirenwood. By the bye, Jenny, I wish Cecil could be hindered from throwing herself into that oak of Broceliande!"

  "Are not you so suspicious that you see the waving arms and magic circles everywhere?"

  "A friendship with any one here is so unnatural, that I can't but think it a waving of hands boding no good. And there is worse than friendship in that quarter too."

  "Oh, but Lenore is quite different!"

  "A Vivienne still!" said Julius, bitterly. "If she costs poor Frank nothing more than his appointment, it will be well."

  "I don't understand!"

  "She caught him in her toils two years ago at Rockpier; and now she is playing fast and loose with him-withdrawing, as I believe; and at any rate keeping the poor foolish boy in such an agitation, that he can't or won't settle to his reading; and Driver thinks he will break down."

  "I can't think it of Lenore.-Oh! good morning, Raymond!"

  "Good morning! May I come to breakfast number one? I have to go to Backsworth."

  "Yes," said Jenny; "we told papa it was too bad to put you on the Prison Committee. What does your wife say?"

  "My wife has so many occupations, that she is very sufficient for herself," said Raymond. "I hope you will get on with her, Jenny. If she could only be got to think you intellectual!"

  "Me? O, Raymond! you've not been telling her so?" exclaimed Jenny, laughing heartily.

  "A very superior coach in divinity, &c.," said Julius, in a tone half banter, half earnest.

  But Jenny exclaimed in distress, "No, no, no; say nothing about that! It would never do for Herbert to have it known. Don't let him guess that you know."

  "Quite right, Jenny; never fear," said Julius; "though it is tempting to ask you to take Frank in hand at the same time."

  "Have you seen anything of the Vivians?" asked Raymond.

  "Very little. I hoped to see something of Eleonora from hence."

  "I can't understand that young lady," said Julius. "She was very friendly when first we met her; but now she seems absolutely repellant."

  "Tant mieux," Raymond

  "They seem inclined to take up all the good works in hand," said Jenny. "By the bye, what is all this story about Raymond affronting Wil'sbro' by stirring up their gutters? Papa has been quite in a state of mind for fear they should take offence and bring in Mr. Moy."

  "Julius only thinks I have not stirred the gutters enough," said Raymond. "And after all, it is not I, but Whitlock. I was in hopes that matters might have been properly looked after if Whitlock had been chosen mayor this year; but, somehow, a cry was got up that he was going to bring down a sanitary commission, and put the town to great expense; and actually, this town-council have been elected because they are opposed to drainage."

  "And Truelove, the grocer, is mayor?"

  "Yes; one of the most impracticable men I ever encountered. One can't get him so much as to understand anything. Now Briggs does understand, only he goes by pounds s. d."

  "Posterity has done nothing for me, and I will do nothing for posterity, is his principle," said Julius. "Moreover, he is a Baptist."

  "No chance for the Church in his time," said Jenny.

  "There's the less harm in that," said Raymond, "that the plan is intolerable. Briggs's nephew took the plan of what he calls a German Rat-house, for the town-hall, made in gilt gingerbread; and then adapted the church to a beautiful similarity. If that could be staved off by waiting for the bazaar, or by any other means, there might be a chance of something better. So poor Fuller thinks, though he is not man enough to speak out at once."

  "Then the bazaar is really fixed?"

  "So far as the resolution goes of the lady population, though Julius is sanguine, and hopes to avert it. After all, I believe the greatest obstructive to improvement is Moy."

  "Old Mr. Proudfoot's son-in-law?" said Jenny. "I know he has blossomed out in great splendour on our side of the county, and his daughter is the general wonder. Papa is always declaring he will set up in opposition to you."

  "Not much fear of that," said Raymond. "But the man provokes me, he has so much apparent seriousness."

  "Even to the persecution of Dr. Easterby," put in Julius. "And yet he is the great supporter of that abominable public-house in Water Lane, the Three Pigeons-which, unluckily, escaped the fire. He owns it, and all those miserable tenements beyond it, and nothing will move him an inch towards doing any good there!"

  "I remember," said Jenny, "papa came home very angry on the licensing day; the police had complained of the Three Pigeons, and the magistrates would have taken away the license, but that Mr. Moy made such a personal matter of it."

  "You don't mean that he is a magistrate!" exclaimed Julius.

  "Yes," said Raymond. "He got the ear of the Lord-Lieutenant."

  "And since he has lived at the Lawn, they have all quite set up for county people or anything you please," said Jenny, a little bitterly. "Mrs. Moy drives about with the most stylish pair of ponies; and as to Miss Gussie, she is making herself into a proverb! I can't bear them."

  "Well done, Jenny!" exclaimed Julius.

  "Perhaps it is wrong," said Jenny, in a low voice. "I dare say I am not just. You know I always did think Mr. Moy could have cleared Archie if he would," she added, with a slightly trembling tone.

  "So did I," said Raymond. "I gave him the opportunity after George Proudfoot's death; but when the choice lay between two memories, one could hardly wonder if he preferred to shield his brother-in-law."

  "Or himself!" said Jenny, under her breath.

  "Come, Jenny," said Julius, feeling that the moment for interruption had come, "it is time we should be off. Methinks there are sounds as if the whole canine establishment at Mrs. Hornblower's were prancing up to meet us."

  So it proved; and Jenny had to run the gauntlet through the ecstasies of all the dogs, whose ecclesiastical propriety was quite overthrown, for they danced about her to the very threshold of the church, and had to have the door shut on their very noses. That drop of bitterness, which her sad brief story could not fail to have left in poor Joanna's heart, either passed o
ut of mind in what followed, or was turned into the prayer, "And to turn their hearts;" and she was her bright self again for her promised assistance at the school.

  Then Herbert's address was, "Come, Joan, I promised to take you to see the Reeves's pheasant at the Outwood Lodge. Such a jolly old woman!"

  "The pheasant?"

  "No; the keeper's mother. Tail a yard long! I don't see why we shouldn't turn them out at home. If father won't take it up, I shall write to Phil."

  "Thank you, Herbs. Hadn't you better secure a little reading first? I could wait; I've got to write to Will."

  "The post doesn't go till five."

  "But I want to get it done. The mail goes to-morrow."

  "You'll do it much better after a walk. I can't understand anything after the fumes of the school, unless I do a bit of visiting first; and that pheasant is a real stunner. It really is parish work, Jenny. Look here, this is what I'm reading her."

  "Learn to die!" said Jenny, laughing heartily. "Nothing could be more appropriate, only you should have begun before October."

  "You choose to make fun of everything!" answered Herbert, gruffly; and Jenny, deciding that she would see a specimen day, made her peace by consenting to share in the pastoral visit, whether to pheasant or peasant. Indeed, a walk with Herbert was one of the prime pleasures of her life-and this was delightful, along broad gravelled drives through the autumnal woods with tinted beech-leaves above, and brackens of all shades of brown, green, and yellow beneath. And it was charming to see Herbert's ways with the old woman-a dainty old dame, such as is grown in the upper ranks of service, whom he treated with a hearty, bantering, coaxing manner, which she evidently enjoyed extremely. His reading, for he did come to more serious matters, was very good-in a voice that without effort reached deaf ears, and with feeling about it that did a great deal to reassure his sister that there was something behind the big bright boy.

  But by the time he had done the honours of all the pheasants, and all the dogs, and all the ferrets, and all the stuffed birds, and all the eggs (for the keeper was a bit of a naturalist), and had discussed Mr. Frank's last day's shooting, it was so late, that Jenny had only just time to walk back to the Hall at her best pace, to see Mrs. Poynsett for a few minutes before luncheon; and her reception was, "Is that Herbert's step? Call him in, my dear!-You must make the most of your sister, Herbert. Come in to all meals while she is here."