Scenes and Characters

by Шарлотта Мэри Йондж

  'They went to live in London,' said Emily, 'Aunt Robert used to write to them there.'

  'I know, I know, but where are they now?'

  'In London, I should think,' said Emily. 'Some one said Miss Aylmer was gone out as a governess.'

  'Indeed! I wish I could hear more! Poor Mr. Aylmer! He was the first man who tried to teach me Latin. I wonder what has become of that mad fellow Edward, and Devereux, my father's godson! Was not Mrs. Aylmer badly off? I cannot bear that people should be forgotten!'

  'It is not so very long that we have lost sight of them,' said Emily.

  'Eight years,' said Lord Rotherwood. 'He died six weeks after my father. Well! I have made my mother promise to come home.'

  'Really?' said Lilias, 'she has been coming so often.'

  'Aye-but she is coming this time. She is to spend the winter at the castle, and make acquaintance with all the neighbourhood.'

  'His lordship is romancing,' said Claude to Lily in a confidential tone.

  'I'll punish you for suspecting me of talking hyperborean language - hyperbolical, I mean,' cried Lord Rotherwood; 'I'll make you dance the Polka with all the beauty and fashion.'

  'Then I shall stay at Oxford till it is over,' said Claude.

  'You do not know what a treasure you will be,' said the Marquis, 'ladies like nothing so well as dancing with a fellow twice the height he should be.'

  'Beware of putting me forward,' said Claude, rising, and, as he leant against the chimney-piece, looking down from his height of six feet three, with a patronising air upon his cousin, 'I shall be taken for the hero, and you for my little brother.'

  'I wish I was,' said Lord Rotherwood, 'it would be much better fun. I should escape the speechifying, the worst part of it.'

  'Yes,' said Claude, 'for one whose speeches will be scraps of three words each, strung together with the burthen of the apprentices' song, Radara tadara, tandore.'

  'Radaratade,' said the Marquis, laughing. 'By the bye, if Eleanor and Frank Hawkesworth manage well, they may be here in time.'

  'Because they are so devoted to gaiety?' said Claude. 'You will say next that William is coming from Canada, on purpose.'

  'That tall captain!' said Lord Rotherwood. 'He used to be a very awful person.'

  'Ah! he used to keep the spoilt Marquis in order,' said Claude.

  'To say nothing of the spoilt Claude,' returned Lord Rotherwood.

  'Claude never was spoilt,' said Lily.

  'It was not Eleanor's way,' said Emily.

  'At least she cannot be accused of spoiling me,' said Lord Rotherwood. 'I shall never dare to write at that round table again- her figure will occupy the chair like Banquo's ghost, and wave me off with a knitting needle.'

  'Ah! that stain of ink was a worse blot on your character than on the new table cover,' said Claude.

  'She was rigidly impartial,' said Lord Rotherwood.

  'No,' said Claude, 'she made exceptions in favour of Ada and me. She left the spoiling of the rest to Emily.'

  'And well Emily will perform it! A pretty state you will be in by the 30th of July, 1846,' said Lord Rotherwood.

  'Why should not Emily make as good a duenna as Eleanor?' said Lily.

  'Why should she not? She will not-that is all,' said the Marquis. 'Such slow people you all are! You would all go to sleep if I did not sometimes rouse you up a little-grow stagnant.'

  'Not an elegant comparison,' said Lilias; 'besides, you must remember that your hasty brawling streams do not reflect like tranquil lakes.'

  'One of Lily's poetical hits, I declare!' said Lord Rotherwood, 'but she need not have taken offence-I did not refer to her-only Claude and Emily, and perhaps-no, I will not say who else.'

  'Then, Rotherwood, I will tell you what I am-the Lily that derives all its support from the calm lake.'

  'Well done, Lily, worthy of yourself,' cried Lord Rotherwood, laughing, 'but you know I am always off when you talk poetry.'

  'I suspect it is time for us all to be off,' said Claude, 'did I not hear it strike the quarter?'

  'And to-morrow I shall be off in earnest,' said Lord Rotherwood. 'Half way to London before Claude has given one turn to "his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head."'

  'Shall we see you at Easter?' said Emily.

  'No, I do not think you will. I am engaged to stay with somebody somewhere, I forget the name of place and man; besides, Grosvenor Square is more tolerable then than at any other time of the year, and I shall spend a fortnight with my mother and Florence. It is after Easter that you come to Oxford, is it not, Claude?'

  'Yes, my year of idleness will be over. And there is the Baron looking at his watch.'

  The 'Baron' was the title by which the young people were wont to distinguish Mr. Mohun, who, as Lily believed, had a right to the title of Baron of Beechcroft. It was certain that he was the representative of a family which had been settled at Beechcroft ever since the Norman Conquest, and Lily was very proud of the name of Sir William de Moune in the battle roll, and of Sir John among the first Knights of the Garter. Her favourite was Sir Maurice, who had held out Beechcroft Court for six weeks against the Roundheads, and had seen the greater part of the walls battered down. Witnesses of the strength of the old castle yet remained in the massive walls and broad green ramparts, which enclosed what was now orchard and farm-yard, and was called the Old Court, while the dwelling-house, built by Sir Maurice after the Restoration, was named the New Court. Sir Maurice had lost many an acre in the cause of King Charles, and his new mansion was better suited to the honest squires who succeeded him, than to the mighty barons his ancestors. It was substantial and well built, with a square gravelled court in front, and great, solid, folding gates opening into a lane, bordered with very tall well-clipped holly hedges, forming a polished, green, prickly wall. There was a little door in one of these gates, which was scarcely ever shut, from whence a well-worn path led to the porch, where generally reposed a huge Newfoundland dog, guardian of the hoops and walkingsticks that occupied the corners. The front door was of heavy substantial oak, studded with nails, and never closed in the daytime, and the hall, wainscoted and floored with slippery oak, had a noble open fireplace, with a wood fire burning on the hearth.

  On the other side of the house was a terrace sloping down to a lawn and bowling-green, hedged in by a formal row of evergreens. A noble plane-tree was in the middle of the lawn, and beyond it a pond renowned for water-lilies. To the left was the kitchen garden, terminating in an orchard, planted on the ramparts and moat of the Old Court; then came the farm buildings, and beyond them a field, sloping upwards to an extensive wood called Beechcroft Park. In the wood was the cottage of Walter Greenwood, gamekeeper and woodman by hereditary succession, but able and willing to turn his hand to anything, and, in fact, as Adeline once elegantly termed him, the 'family tee totum.'

  To the right of the house there was a field, called Long Acre, bounded on the other side by the turnpike road to Raynham, which led up the hill to the village green, surrounded by well-kept cottages and gardens. The principal part of the village was, however, at the foot of the hill, where the Court lane crossed the road, led to the old church, the school, and parsonage, in its little garden, shut in by thick yew hedges. Beyond was the blacksmith's shop, more cottages, and Mrs. Appleton's wondrous village warehouse; and the lane, after passing by the handsome old farmhouse of Mr. Harrington, Mr. Mohun's principal tenant, led to a bridge across a clear trout stream, the boundary of the parish of Beechcroft.

  CHAPTER III-THE NEW PRINCIPLE

  'And wilt thou show no more, quoth he,

  Than doth thy duty bind?

  I well perceive thy love is small.'

  On the Sunday evening which followed Eleanor's wedding, Lilias was sitting next to Emily, and talking in very earnest tones, which after a time occasioned Claude to look up and say, 'What is all this about? Something remarkably absurd I suspect.'

  'Only a new principle,' said Emily.

  'New!' cried
Lily, 'only what must be the feeling of every person of any warmth of character?'

  'Now for it then,' said Claude.

  'No, no, Claude, I really mean it (and Lily sincerely thought she did). I will not tell you if you are going to laugh.'

  'That depends upon what your principle may chance to be,' said Claude. 'What is it, Emily? She will be much obliged to you for telling.'

  'She only says she cannot bear people to do their duty, and not to act from a feeling of love,' said Emily.

  'That is not fair,' returned Lily, 'all I say is, that it is better that people should act upon love for its own sake, than upon duty for its own sake.'

  'What comes in rhyme with Lily?' said Claude.

  'Don't be tiresome, Claude, I really want you to understand me.'

  'Wait till you understand yourself,' said the provoking brother, 'and let me finish what I am reading.'

  For about a quarter of an hour he was left in peace, while Lily was busily employed with a pencil and paper, under the shadow of a book, and at length laid before him the following verses:-

  'What is the source of gentleness,

  The spring of human blessedness,

  Bringing the wounded spirit healing,

  The comforts high of heaven revealing,

  The lightener of each daily care,

  The wing of hope, the life of prayer,

  The zest of joy, the balm of sorrow,

  Bliss of to-day, hope of to-morrow,

  The glory of the sun's bright beam,

  The softness of the pale moon stream,

  The flow'ret's grace, the river's voice,

  The tune to which the birds rejoice;

  Without it, vain each learned page,

  Cold and unfelt each council sage,

  Heavy and dull each human feature,

  Lifeless and wretched every creature;

  In which alone the glory lies,

  Which value gives to sacrifice?

  'Tis that which formed the whole creation,

  Which rests on every generation.

  Of Paradise the only token

  Just left us, 'mid our treasures broken,

  Which never can from us be riven,

  Sure earnest of the joys of Heaven.

  And which, when earth shall pass away,

  Shall be our rest on the last day,

  When tongues shall fail and knowledge cease,

  And throbbing hearts be all at peace:

  When faith is sight, and hope is sure,

  That which alone shall still endure

  Of earthly joys in heaven above,

  'Tis that best gift, eternal Love!'

  'What have you there?' said Mr. Mohun, who had come towards them while Claude was reading the lines. Taking the paper from Claude's hand, he read it to himself, and then saying, 'Tolerable, Lily; there are some things to alter, but you may easily make it passable,' he went on to his own place, leaving Lilias triumphant.

  'Well, Claude, you see I have the great Baron on my side.'

  'I am of the Baron's opinion,' said Claude, 'the only wonder is that you doubted it.'

  'You seemed to say that love was good for nothing.'

  'I said nothing but that Lily has a rhyme.'

  'And saying that I was silly, was equivalent to saying that love was nothing,' said Lily.

  'O Lily, I hope not,' said Claude, with a comical air.

  'Well, I know I often am foolish, but not in this,' said Lily; 'I do say that mere duty is not lovable.'

  'Say it if you will then,' said Claude, yawning, 'only let me finish this sermon.'

  Lily set herself to reconsider some of her lines: but presently Emily left the room, Claude looked up, and Lily exclaimed, 'Now, Claude, let us make a trial of it.'

  'Well,' said Claude, yawning again, and looking resigned.

  'Think how Eleanor went on telling us of duty, duty, duty-never making allowances-never relaxing her stiff rules about trifles- never unbending from her duenna-like dignity-never showing one spark of enthusiasm-making great sacrifices, but only because she thought them her duty-because it was right-good for herself-only a higher kind of selfishness-not because her feeling prompted her.'

  'Certainly, feeling does not usually prompt people to give up their lovers for the sake of their brothers and sisters.'

  'She did it because it was her duty,' said Lily, 'quite as if she did not care.'

  'I wonder whether Frank thought so,' said Claude.

  'At any rate you will confess that Emily is a much more engaging person,' said Lily.

  'Certainly, I had rather talk nonsense to her,' said Claude.

  'You feel it, though you will not allow it,' said Lily. 'Now think of Emily's sympathy, and gentleness, and sweet smile, and tell me if she is not a complete personification of love. And then Eleanor, unpoetical-never thrown off her balance by grief or joy, with no ups and downs-no enthusiasm-no appreciation of the beautiful-her highest praise "very right," and tell me if there can be a better image of duty.'

  Claude might have had some chance of bringing Lily to her senses, if he had allowed that there was some truth in what she had said; but he thought the accusation so unjust in general, that he would not agree to any part of it, and only answered, 'You have very strange views of duty and of Eleanor.'

  'Well!' replied Lily, 'I only ask you to watch; Emily and I are determined to act on the principle of love, and you will see if her government is not more successful than that of duty.'

  Such was the principle upon which Lily intended her sister to govern the household, and to which Emily listened without knowing what she meant much better than she did herself. Emily's own views, as far as she possessed any, were to get on as smoothly as she could, and make everybody pleased and happy, without much trouble to herself, and also to make the establishment look a little more as if a Lady Emily had lately been its mistress, than had been the case in Eleanor's time. Mr. Mohun's property was good, but he wished to avoid unnecessary display and expense, and he expected his daughters to follow out these views, keeping a wise check upon Emily, by looking over her accounts every Saturday, and turning a deaf ear when she talked of the age of the drawing-room carpet, and the ugliness of the old chariot. Emily had a good deal on her hands, requiring sense and activity, but Lilias and Jane were now quite old enough to assist her. Lily however, thought fit to despise all household affairs, and bestowed the chief of her attention on her own department-the village school and poor people; and she was also much engrossed by her music and drawing, her German and Italian, and her verse writing.

  Claude had more power over her than any one else. He was a gentle, amiable boy, of high talent, but disposed to indolence by ill health. In most matters he was, however, victorious over this propensity, which was chiefly visible in his love of easy chairs, and his dislike of active sports, which made him the especial companion of his sisters. A dangerous illness had occasioned his removal from Eton, and he had since been at home, reading with his cousin Mr. Devereux, and sharing his sisters' amusements.

  Jane was in her own estimation an important member of the administration, and in fact, was Emily's chief assistant and deputy. She was very small and trimly made, everything fitted her precisely, and she had tiny dexterous fingers, and active little feet, on which she darted about noiselessly and swiftly as an arrow; an oval brown face, bright colour, straight features, and smooth dark hair, bright sparkling black eyes, a little mouth, wearing an arch subdued smile, very white teeth, and altogether the air of a woman in miniature. Brisk, bold, and blithe-ever busy and ever restless, she was generally known by the names of Brownie and Changeling, which were not inappropriate to her active and prying disposition.

  Excepting Claude and Emily, the young party were early risers, and Lily especially had generally despatched a good deal of business before the eight o'clock breakfast.

  At nine they went to church, Mr. Devereux having restored the custom of daily service, and after this, Mr. Mohun attended to his multi
tudinous affairs; Claude went to the parsonage,-Emily to the storeroom, Lily to the village, the younger girls to the schoolroom, where they were presently joined by Emily. Lily remained in her own room till one o'clock, when she joined the others in the schoolroom, and they read aloud some book of history till two, the hour of dinner for the younger, and of luncheon for the elder. They then went out, and on their return from evening service, which began at half-past four, the little ones had their lessons to learn, and the others were variously employed till dinner, the time of which was rather uncertain but always late. The evening passed pleasantly and quickly away in reading, work, music, and chatter.

  As Emily had expected, her first troubles were with Phyllis; called, not the neat handed, by her sisters; Master Phyl, by her brothers; and Miss Tomboy, by the maids. She seemed born to be a trial of patience to all concerned with her; yet without many actual faults, except giddiness, restlessness, and unrestrained spirits. In the drawing-room, schoolroom, and nursery she was continually in scrapes, and so often reproved and repentant, that her loud roaring fits of crying were amongst the ordinary noises of the New Court. She was terribly awkward when under constraint, or in learning any female accomplishment, but swift and ready when at her ease, and glorying in the boyish achievements of leaping ditches and climbing trees. Her voice was rather highly pitched, and she had an inveterate habit of saying, 'I'll tell you what,' at the beginning of all her speeches. She was not tall, but strong, square, firm, and active; she had a round merry face, a broad forehead, and large bright laughing eyes, of a doubtful shade between gray and brown. Her mouth was wide, her nose turned up, her complexion healthy, but not rosy, and her stiff straight brown hair was more apt to hang over her eyes, than to remain in its proper place behind her ears.

  Adeline was very different; her fair and brilliant complexion, her deep blue eyes and golden ringlets, made her a very lovely little creature; her quietness was a relief after her sister's boisterous merriment, and her dislike of dirt and brambles, continually contrasted with poor Phyllis's recklessness of such impediments. Ada readily learnt lessons, which cost Phyllis and her teacher hours of toil; Ada worked deftly when Phyllis's stiff fingers never willingly touched a needle; Ada played with a doll, drew on scraps of paper, or put up dissected maps, while Phyllis was in mischief or in the way. A book was the only chance of interesting her; but very few books took her fancy enough to occupy her long;-those few, however, she read over and over again, and when unusual tranquillity reigned in the drawing-room, she was sure to be found curled up at the top of the library steps, reading one of three books-Robinson Crusoe, Little Jack, or German Popular Tales. Then Emily blamed her ungraceful position, Jane laughed at her uniform taste, and Lily proposed some story about modern children, such as Phyllis never could like, and the constant speech was repeated, 'Only look at Ada!' till Phyllis considered her sister as a perfect model, and sighed over her own naughtiness.