CHAPTER XVI.
I was much grieved at the loss of my last letter to Tossil's Barton,because it contained my little Christmas presents for all the family.It was registered for security, but I suppose they "took no count" ofthat where the delivery of letters depended so much upon luck. Of theirChristmas present to me I resolved to give the surplus to those whowould be the better for it, and not (according to the usual law of suchthings) to those who did not want it, and would make return withinterest. So on the Christmas morning Mrs. Shelfer and myself, eachcarrying a large basket, went to the mews round the corner, anddistributed among the poor lodgers there, more Christmas dinners thanhad ever entered those doors before; and how grateful the poor thingswere, only they all wanted the best.
Now the school of design was closed for a while, and I worked hard forseveral days at the landscape for Mr. Oxgall, though the store ofprovisions sent me and the rent enclosed in the turkey had saved me frompresent necessity.
On the day of all days in the year the saddest and darkest to me, Icould not keep to my task, but went for a change of thoughts to theschool, now open again.
It was the 30th of December, 1850, and, though I crouch not to themumming of prigs scolloped out at the throat, who block out with apatchwork screen the simple hearth of religion, and kneel at an ashbinto warm themselves; though I don't care a herring for smallanniversaries dotted all over the calendar, and made by some Murphy ofold; yet I reverence deeply the true feasts of Church and Chapel, therefreshings of faith and charity, whereupon we forgive and are sorry forthose who work hard to mar them. Neither does it seem to me--so far asmy timid and wavering judgment extends--to be superstition or vanity, ifwe dare to set mark by those dates in our own little span which God hasscarred on our memory.
In the long dark room so bare and comfortless, and, to-day, so lonelyand cold, I got my usual books and studies, and tried, all in vain, tofix my attention on them. Finding the effort so fruitless, I packed upmy things in the little black bag and rose to depart. Turning round, Isaw on the table, where students' works were exhibited, a small objectnewly placed there. It was a statuette in white marble of a magnificentred deer, such as I had seen once or twice in the north of Devon. Thelistening attitude, the turn of the neck, the light poise of the massivehead, even the mild, yet spirited eye, and the quivering sensitive lip,I could answer for them all, they were done to the very life. Truth,power, and elegance triumphed in every vein of it. For a minute I stoodovercome with wonder. If this were the work of a youthful sculptor,England might hope at last for something beyond the grotesque.
Before me rose at once all the woodland scenery, the hill-side garbedwith every shade of green, the brambled quarry standing forth, thetrees, the winding vales embosoming the light, the haze that hoversabove the watersmeet, bold crests of amaranth heath behind, and far awaythe russet wold of Exmoor. The stag in the foreground of my landscape,I feel so grateful to him for this expanse of vision that I stoop downand kiss him, while no one can see me. As I bend, the gordit drops fromits warm home in my breast. By some impulse undefined I lift the ribbonfrom my neck, and hang the little fairy's heart on the antlers of theDevonshire deer. Out springs from behind a chest full of casts andmodels--what model can compare with her?--the loveliest of all lovelybeings, my little Isola Ross.
I hide the tears in my eyes, and try to look cold and reserved. Whatuse is it? One smile of hers would have disarmed Belial.
"It isn't my fault, dear. It isn't indeed. Oh, please give me thatcordetto. No don't. That is why I loved you so at first sight. Andhere is all my money dear. I have carried it about ever since, though Isewed up the purse not to spend it, and only once cut it open. Theymade me promise, and I would not eat for three days, and I tried to besulky with Pappy because he did not care; they made me promise with allmy honour not to go and see you, and Cora came about with me so that Ihad no chance of breaking it. And I would not tell them where youlived, dear; but I led old Cora a dance through your street on the sideyou live, till she began to suspect. But I could never see you, though Ilooked in at all the windows till I was quite ashamed, and the peoplekissed their hands to me."
Poor little dear! I lived upstairs, and could not have seen her withoutstanding out on the balcony, which was about the size of a chess-board.If she had not been so simple as to walk on my side of the street, shemust have seen me ere long, for I sat all day near the window to draw,when I was not away at my school.
I forgave her most graciously for having done me no wrong, and kissedher with all my heart. Her breath was as sweet as violets in Springclover, and her lips warm and soft as a wren's nest. On receiving myforgiveness, away she went dancing down the long room, with her cloakthrown off, and her hair tossing all out of braid, and her exquisitebuoyant figure floating as if on a cloud. Of course there was no onethere, or even impulsive Isola would hardly have taken her frolic; andyet I am not sure. She never thought harm of any one, and neverimagined that any one could think harm of her.
After a dozen flits of some rapid elegant dance quite unknown to me (whohave never had much of dancing), but which I supposed to be Scotch, backshe came out of breath, and kissed me ever so many times, and kissed mygordit too, and told me never to part with it. One thing she was sureof, that her Papa could not resist me now, and when he was told of it Ishould come to their house the next day. And she knew I was dreadfullyproud, but would I, for her sake, forgive her Pappy? Of course, he knewnothing about me, and she had never told him my name, though she couldnot help telling my story, at least all she knew of it; but he was sodreadfully jealous of her, he did not want any one to have a touch ofher glove but himself.
Looking at her pure sweet face, I could well believe it; but how couldhe bear to see that dear little thing go three days without food? Mostlikely she had exaggerated. Although she was truthful as light,sometimes her quick fancy and warmth, like the sunshine itself, wouldbring out some points too strongly. However, I was prepared, withoutthat, to dislike the Professor, for, as a general rule, I don't like menwho moralise; at least if their philosophy is frigid. Nevertheless, Ipromised very readily to forgive her Papa, for I did so love that Isola.Her nature was so different to mine, so light and airy, elastic andsoft; in short (if I must forsake my language), the complement of myown. We chatted, or rather she did, for at least half an hour; and thenshe told me old Cora was coming to fetch her at three o'clock. Oncemore I rose to depart, for I feared she might get into trouble, if theold nurse should find her so intimate with a stranger.
But Isola told me that she did not care for her a bit, and she had quiteset her heart on my meeting her brother Conrad, the sculptor of thatmagnificent stag. Perhaps he would come with Cora, but he was soaltered now, she could never tell what he would do. Since the time shefirst saw me, Conrad had come of age, and she could not guess what itwas all about, but there had been a dreadful disturbance between him andhis father, and he had actually gone to live away from the family. Shethought it must be about money, or some such nasty thing; but even Coradid not know, or if she did, the old thing would not tell. It had madepoor Isola cry till her eyes were sore, but now she supposed she mustmake up her mind to it all. But she would tell the truth, she did hatebeing treated like a baby when she was a full-grown woman; how muchtaller did they expect her to be? And what was much worse, she did wantso to comfort them both, and how could she do it without knowing whatwas the matter? It was too bad, and she wished she was a boy, with allher heart she did.
She went on talking like this till her gentle breast fluttered, and hercoral lips quivered, and the tears stole down her long lashes, and shecrept to me closer for comfort.
I was clasping her round little waist, and kissing the bright dropsaway, when in burst a dark, scraggy woman, who must, of course, be oldCora. She tore the poor child from my arms, and scowled at me fiercelyenough to frighten a girl unacquainted with real terrors.
I met her dark gaze with a calm co
ntempt, beneath which it quailed andfell. She mumbled some words in a language or patois, which I supposedto be Gaelic, and led off her charge towards the door.
She had mistaken her adversary. Was I to be pushed aside, like agingerbread woman tempting a weak-stomached child? I passed them; thenturned and confronted the hag.
"Have the goodness, old woman, to walk behind this young lady and me.When we want your society, we will ask for it. Isola Ross, come withme, unless you prefer a rude menial's tyranny to a lady's affection."
Isola was too frightened to speak. I know not what would have been theresult, if the old hag, who was glaring about, rather taken aback, butstill clutching that delicate arm, had not suddenly spied my fairy'sheart, as yet unrestored to its sanctuary.
She stared, for a moment, in wide amazement; then her whole demeanourwas altered. She cringed, and fawned, and curtseyed, as if I had worn atiara. She dropped my dear Isola's arm, and fell behind like a negress.My poor little pet was trembling and cold with fright, for (as she toldme afterwards) she had never seen old Cora in such a passion before, andthe superstitious darling dreaded the evil eye.
As we went towards Isola's home, I could not help thinking how fine theinterview would be between Mrs. Shelfer and Cora, if I only chose tocarry that vanquished beldame thither; but sage discretion (was I notnow eighteen?), and the thought of that solemn day prevented me. So Itook them straight home, leading Isola while she guided me, and turningsometimes, with complacency, to encourage old Cora behind us.
The house they lived in was a high but narrow one, dull-looking anddark, with area rails in front. Some little maiden came to the door,and I took my leave on the steps. Dear Isola, now in high spiritsagain, kissed me, like a peach quite warm in the sun, and promised tocome the next day, about which there could now be no difficulty.
Old Cora bent low as she wished me good evening and begged leave to kissmy cordetto. This I granted, but took good care not to let it pass outof my hands; she admired it so much, especially when allowed to examineit, and there was such a greedy light in her eyes, that I was quite sureshe would steal it upon the first chance; and therefore I wentstraightway and bought a guard of thick silk cord, as a substitute forthe black riband, which was getting worn.
And so I came home before dark, full of wonder, but feeling rathertriumphant, and greatly delighted at having recovered dear Isola.
END OF VOL. I.
LONDON: R. CLAY, SON, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS, BREAD STREET HILL.
Clara Vaughan, Volume 1 (of 3) Page 34
