THE CLEVER WOMAN OF THE FAMILY

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> THE CLEVER WOMAN OF THE FAMILY

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"Oh!" with a long gasp, "it can't be for me!"

"Do you think it is for your aunt?" said the Colonel.

"Oh, thank you! But such a beautiful creature for me!" said Rose,
with another gasp, quite oppressed. "Aunt Ermine, how shall I ever
make her clothes nice enough?"

"We will see about that, my dear. Now take her into the verandah and
introduce her to Violetta."

"Yes;" then pausing and looking into the fixed eyes, "Aunt Ermine, I
never saw such a beauty, except that one the little girl left behind
on the bench on the esplanade, when Aunt Ailie said I should he
coveting if I went on wishing Violetta was like her."

"I remember," said Ermine, "I have heard enough of that 'ne plus
ultra' of doll! Indeed, Colin, you have given a great deal of
pleasure, where the materials of pleasure are few. No one can guess
the delight a doll is to a solitary imaginative child."

"Thank you," he said, smiling.

"I believe I shall enjoy it as much as Rose," added Ermine, "both for
play and as a study. Please turn my chair a little this way, I want
to see the introduction to Violetta. Here comes the beauty, in
Rose's own cloak."

Colonel Keith leant over the back of her chair and silently watched,
but the scene was not quite what they expected. Violetta was sitting
in her "slantingdicular" position on her chair placed on a bench, and
her little mistress knelt down before her, took her in her arms, and
began to hug her.

"Violetta, darling, you need not be afraid! There is a new beautiful
creature come, and I shall call her Colinette, and we must be very
kind to her, because Colonel Keith is so good, and knows your
grandpapa; and to tell you a great secret, Violetta, that you must
not tell Colinette or anybody, I think he is Aunt Ermine's own true
knight."

"Hush!" whispered the Colonel, over Ermine's head, as he perceived
her about to speak.

"So you must be very good to her, Violetta, and you shall help me
make her clothes; but you need not be afraid I ever could love any
one half or one quarter as much as you, my own dear child, not if she
were ten times as beautiful, and so come and show her to Augustus.
She'll never be like you, dear old darling."

"It is a study," said the Colonel, as Rose moved off with a doll in
either hand; "a moral that you should take home."

Ermine shook her head, but smiled, saying, "Tell me, does your young
cousin know--"

"Alick Keith! Not from me, and Lady Temple is perfectly to be
trusted; but I believe his father knew it was for no worse reason
that I was made to exchange. But never mind, Ermine, he is a very
good fellow, and what is the use of making a secret of what even
Violetta knows?"

There was no debating the point, for her desire of secrecy was
prompted by the resolution to leave him unbound, whereas his wish for
publicity was with the purpose of binding himself, and Ermine was
determined that discussion was above all to be avoided, and that she
would, after the first explanation, keep the conversation upon other
subjects. So she only answered with another reproving look and
smile, and said, "And now I am going to make you useful. The editor
of the 'Traveller' is travelling, and has left his work to me. I
have been keeping some letters for him to answer in his own hand,
because mine betrays womanhood; but I have just heard that he is to
stay about six weeks more, and people must be put out of their misery
before that. Will you copy a few for me? Here is some paper with
the office stamp."

"What an important woman you are, Ermine."

"If you had been in England all this time, you would see how easy the
step is into literary work; but you must not betray this for the
'Traveller's' sake or Ailie's."

"Your writing is not very womanish," said the colonel, as she gave
him his task. "Or is this yours? It is not like that of those
verses on Malvern hills that you copied out for me, the only thing
you ever gave me."

"I hope it is more to the purpose than it was then, and it has had to
learn to write in all sorts of attitudes."

"What's this?" as he went on with the paper; "your manuscript
entitled 'Curatocult.' Is that the word? I had taken it for the
produce of Miss Curtis's unassisted genius."

"Have you heard her use it!" said Ermine, disconcerted, having by no
means intended to betray Rachel.

"Oh yes! I heard her declaiming on Sunday about what she knows no
more about than Conrade! A detestable, pragmatical, domineering
girl! I am thankful that I advised Lady Temple only to take the
house for a year. It was right she should see her relations, but she
must not be tyrannized over."

"I don't believe she dislikes it."

"She dislikes no one! She used to profess a liking for a huge
Irishwoman, whose husband had risen from the ranks; the most
tremendous woman I ever saw, except Miss Curtis."

"You know they were brought up together like sisters."

"All the worse, for she has the habit of passive submission. If it
were the mother it would be all right, and I should be thankful to
see her in good keeping, but the mother and sister go for nothing,
and down comes this girl to battle every suggestion with principles
picked up from every catchpenny periodical, things she does not half
understand, and enunciates as if no one had even heard of them
before."

"I believe she seldom meets any one who has. I mean to whom they
are matters of thought. I really do like her vigour and earnestness."

"Don't say so, Ermine! One reason why she is so intolerable to me
is that she is a grotesque caricature of what you used to be."

"You have hit it! I see why I always liked her, besides that it is
pleasant to have any sort of visit, and a good scrimmage is
refreshing; she is just what I should have been without papa and
Edward to keep me down, and without the civilizing atmosphere at the
park."

"Never."

"No, I was not her equal in energy and beneficence, and I was younger
when you came. But I feel for her longing to be up and doing, and
her puzzled chafing against constraint and conventionality, though it
breaks out in very odd effervescences."

"Extremely generous of you when you must be bored to death with her
interminable talk."

"You don't appreciate the pleasure of variety! Besides, she really
interests me, she is so full of vigorous crudities. I believe all
that is unpleasing in her arises from her being considered as the
clever woman of the family; having no man nearly connected enough to
keep her in check, and living in society that does not fairly meet
her. I want you to talk to her, and take her in hand."

"Me! Thank you, Ermine! Why, I could not even stand her talking
about you, though she has the one grace of valuing you."

"Then you ought, in common gratitude, for there is no little
greatness of soul in patiently coming down to Mackarel Lane to be
snubbed by one's cousin's governess's sister."

"If you will come up to Myrtlewood, you don't know what you may do."

"No, you are to set no more people upon me, though Lady Temple's eyes
are very wistful."

"I did not think you would have held out against her."

"Not when I had against you? No, indeed, though I never did see
anybody more winning than she is in that meek, submissive gentleness!
Alison says she has cheered up and grown like another creature since
your arrival."

"And Alexander Keith's. Yes, poor thing, we have brought something
of her own old world, where she was a sort of little queen in her
way. It is too much to ask me to have patience with these relations,
Ermine. If you could see the change from the petted creature she was
with her mother and husband, almost always the first lady in the
place, and latterly with a colonial court of her own, and now,
ordered about, advised, domineered over, made nobody of, and taking
it as meekly and sweetly as if she were grateful for it! I verily
believe she is! But she certainly ought to come away."

"I am not so sure of that. It seems to me rather a dangerous
responsibility to take her away from her own relations, unless there
were any with equal claims."

"They are her only relations, and her husband had none. Still to be
under the constant yoke of an overpowering woman with unfixed
opinions seems to be an unmitigated evil for her and her boys; and no
one's feelings need be hurt by her fixing herself near some public
school for her sons' education. However, she is settled for this
year, and at the end we may decide."

With which words he again applied himself to Ermine's correspondence,
and presently completed the letter, offering to direct the envelope,
which she refused, as having one already directed by the author. He
rather mischievously begged to see it that he might judge of the
character of the writing, but this she resisted.

However, in four days' time there was a very comical twinkle in his
eye, as he informed her that the new number of the "Traveller" was in
no favour at the Homestead, "there was such a want of original
thought in it." Ermine felt her imprudence in having risked the
betrayal, but all she did was to look at him with her full, steady
eyes, and a little twist in each corner of her mouth, as she said,
"Indeed! Then we had better enliven it with the recollections of a
military secretary," and he was both convinced of what he guessed,
and also that she did not think it right to tell him; "But," he said,
"there is something in that girl, I perceive, Ermine; she does think
for herself, and if she were not so dreadfully earnest that she can't
smile, she would be the best company of any of the party."

"I am so glad you think so! I shall be delighted if you will really
talk to her, and help her to argue out some of her crudities. Indeed
she is worth it. But I suppose you will hardly stay here long enough
to do her any good."

"What, are you going to order me away?"

"I thought your brother wanted you at home."

"It is all very well to talk of an ancestral home, but when it
consists of a tall, slim house, with blank walls and pepper-box
turrets, set down on a bleak hill side, and every one gone that made
it once a happy place, it is not attractive. Moreover, my only use
there would be to be kept as a tame heir, the person whose
interference would be most resented, and I don't recognise that
duty."

"You are a gentleman at large, with no obvious duty," said Ermine,
meditatively.

"What, none?" bending his head, and looking earnestly at her.

"Oh, if you come here out of duty--" she said archly, and with her
merry laugh. "There, is not that a nice occasion for picking a
quarrel? And seriously," she continued, "perhaps it might be good
for you if we did. I am beginning to fear that I ought not to keep
you lingering here without purpose or occupation."

"Fulfil my purpose, and I will find occupation."

"Don't say that."

"This once, Ermine. For one year I shall wait in the hope of
convincing you. If you do not change, your mind in that time, I
shall look for another staff appointment, to last till Rose is ready
for me."

The gravity of this conclusion made Ermine laugh. "That's what you
learnt of your chief," she said.

"There would be less difference in age," he said. "Though I own I
should like my widow to be less helpless than poor little Lady
Temple. So," he added, with the same face of ridiculous earnest, "if
you continue to reject me yourself, you will at least rear her with
an especial view to her efficiency in that capacity."

And as Rose at that critical moment looked in at the window, eager to
be encouraged to come and show Colinette's successful toilette, he
drew her to him with the smile that had won her whole heart, and
listening to every little bit of honesty about "my work" and "Aunt
Ermine's work," he told her that he knew she was a very managing
domestic character, perfectly equal to the charge of both young
ladies.

"Aunt Ermine says I must learn to manage, because some day I shall
have to take care of papa."

"Yes," with his eyes on Ermine all the while, "learn to be a useful
woman; who knows if we shan't all depend on you by-and-by?"

"Oh do let me be useful to you," cried Rose; "I could hem all your
handkerchiefs, and make you a kettle-holder."

Ermine had never esteemed him more highly than when he refrained from
all but a droll look, and uttered not one word of the sportive
courtship that is so peculiarly unwholesome and undesirable with
children. Perhaps she thought her colonel more a gentleman than she
had done before, if that were possible; and she took an odd, quaint
pleasure in the idea of this match, often when talking to Alison of
her views of life and education, putting them in the form of what
would become of Rose as Lady Keith; and Colin kept his promise of
making no more references to the future. On moving into his
lodgings, the hour for his visits was changed, and unless he went out
to dinner, he usually came in the evening, thus attracting less
notice, and moreover rendering it less easy to lapse into the tender
subject, as Alison was then at home, and the conversation was
necessarily more general.

The afternoons were spent in Lady Temple's service. Instead of the
orthodox dowager britchska and pair, ruled over by a tyrannical
coachman, he had provided her with a herd of little animals for
harness or saddle, and a young groom, for whom Coombe was answerable.
Mrs. Curtis groaned and feared the establishment would look flighty;
but for the first time Rachel became the colonel's ally. "The worst
despotism practised in England," she said, "is that of coachmen, and
it is well that Fanny should be spared! The coachman who lived here
when mamma was married, answered her request to go a little faster,
'I shall drive my horses as I plazes,' and I really think the present
one is rather worse in deed, though not in word."

Moreover, Rachel smoothed down a little of Mrs. Curtis's uneasiness
at Fanny's change of costume at the end of her first year of
widowhood, on the ground that Colonel Keith advised her to ride with
her sons, and that this was incompatible with weeds. "And dear Sir
Stephen did so dislike the sight of them," she added, in her simple,
innocent way, as if she were still dressing to please him.

"On the whole, mother," said Rachel, "unless there is more heart-
break than Fanny professes, there's more coquetry in a pretty young
thing wearing a cap that says, 'come pity me,' than in going about
like other people."

"I only wish she could help looking like a girl of seventeen," sighed
Mrs. Curtis. "If that colonel were but married, or the other young
man! I'm sure she will fall into some scrape; she does not know how,
out of sheer innocence."

"Well, mother, you know I always mean to ride with her, and that will
be a protection."

"But, my dear, I am not sure about your riding with these gay
officers; you never used to do such things."

"At my age, mother, and to take care of Fanny."

And Mrs. Curtis, in her uncertainty whether to sanction the
proceedings and qualify them, or to make a protest--dreadful to
herself, and more dreadful to Fanny,--yielded the point when she
found herself not backed up by her energetic daughter, and the
cavalcade almost daily set forth from Myrtlewood, and was watched
with eyes of the greatest vexation, if not by kind Mrs. Curtis, by
poor Mr. Touchett, to whom Lady Temple's change of dress had been a
grievous shock. He thought her so lovely, so interesting, at first;
and now, though it was sacrilege to believe it of so gentle and
pensive a face, was not this a return to the world? What had she to
do with these officers? How could her aunt permit it? No doubt it
was all the work of his great foe, Miss Rachel.

It was true that Rachel heartily enjoyed these rides. Hitherto she
had been only allowed to go out under the escort of her tyrant the
coachman, who kept her in very strict discipline. She had not
anticipated anything much more lively with Fanny, her boys, and
ponies; but Colonel Keith had impressed on Conrade and Francis that
they were their mother's prime protectors, and they regarded her
bridle-rein as their post, keeping watch over her as if her safety
depended on them, and ready to quarrel with each other if the roads
were too narrow for all three to go abreast. And as soon as the
colonel had ascertained that she and they were quite sufficient to
themselves, and well guarded by Coombe in the rear, he ceased to
regard himself as bound to their company, but he and Rachel extended
their rides in search of objects of interest. She liked doing the
honours of the county, and achieved expeditions which her coachman
had hitherto never permitted to her, in search of ruins, camps,
churches, and towers. The colonel had a turn for geology, though a
wandering life even with an Indian baggage-train had saved him from
incurring her contempt for collectors; but he knew by sight the
character of the conformations of rocks, and when they had mounted
one of the hills that surrounded Avonmouth, discerned by the outline
whether granite, gneiss, limestone, or slate formed the grander
height beyond, thus leading to schemes of more distant rides to
verify the conjectures, which Rachel accepted with the less argument,
because sententious dogmatism was not always possible on the back of
a skittish black mare.

There was no concealing from herself that she was more interested by
this frivolous military society than by any she had ever previously
met. The want of comprehension of her pursuits in her mother's
limited range of acquaintance had greatly conduced both to her over-
weening manner and to her general dissatisfaction with the world, and
for the first time she was neither succumbed to, giggled at, avoided,
nor put down with a grave, prosy reproof. Certainly Alick Keith, as
every one called him, nettled her extremely by his murmured irony,
but the acuteness of it was diverting in such a mere lad, and showed
that if he could only once be roused, he might be capable of better
things. There was an excitement in his unexpected manner of seeing
things that was engaging as well as provoking; and Rachel never felt
content if he were at Myrtlewood without her seeing him, if only
because she began to consider him as more dangerous than his elder
namesake, and so assured of his position that he did not take any
pains to assert it, or to cultivate Lady Temple's good graces; he was
simply at home and perfectly at ease with her.

Colonel Keith's tone was different. He was argumentative where his
young cousin was sarcastic. He was reading some of the books over
which Rachel had strained her capacities without finding any one with
whom to discuss them, since all her friends regarded them as
poisonous; and even Ermine Williams, without being shaken in her
steadfast trust, was so haunted and distressed in her lonely and
unvaried life by the echo of these shocks to the faith of others,
that absolutely as a medical precaution she abstained from dwelling
on them. On the other hand Colin Keith liked to talk and argue out
his impressions, and found in Rachel the only person with whom the
subject could be safely broached, and thus she for the first time
heard the subjects fairly handled. Hitherto she had never thought
that justice was done to the argument except by a portion of the
press, that drew conclusions which terrified while they allured her,
whereas she appreciated the candour that weighed each argument,
distinguishing principle from prejudice, and religious faith from
conventional construction, and in this measurement of minds she felt
the strength, and acuteness of powers superior to her own. He was
not one of the men who prefer unintellectual women. Perhaps clever
men, of a profession not necessarily requiring constant brain work,
are not so much inclined to rest the mind with feminine empty
chatter, as are those whose intellect is more on the strain. At any
rate, though Colonel Keith was attentive and courteous to every one,
and always treated Lady Temple as a prime minister might treat a
queen, his tendency to conversation with Rachel was becoming marked,
and she grew increasingly prone to consult him. The interest of this
new intercourse quite took out the sting of disappointment, when
again Curatocult came back, "declined with thanks." Nay, before
making a third attempt she hazarded a question on his opinion of
female authorship, and much to her gratification, and somewhat to her
surprise, heard that he thought it often highly useful and valuable.

"That is great candour. Men generally grudge whatever they think
their own privilege."

"Many things can often be felt and expressed by an able woman better
than by a man, and there is no reason that the utterance of anything
worthy to be said should be denied, provided it is worthy to be
said."

"Ah! there comes the hit. I wondered if you would get through
without it."

"It was not meant as a hit. Men are as apt to publish what is not
worth saying as women can be, and some women are so conscientious as
only to put forth what is of weight and value."

"And you are above wanting to silence them by palaver about
unfeminine publicity?"

"There is no need of publicity. Much of the best and most wide-
spread writing emanates from the most quiet, unsuspected quarters."

"That is the benefit of an anonymous press."

"Yes. The withholding of the name prevents well-mannered people from
treating a woman as an authoress, if she does not proclaim herself
one; and the difference is great between being known to write, and
setting up for an authoress."

"Between fact and pretension. But write or not write, there is an
instinctive avoidance of an intellectual woman."

"Not always, for the simple manner that goes with real superiority is
generally very attractive. The larger and deeper the mind, the more
there would be of the genuine humbleness and gentleness that a
shallow nature is incapable of. The very word humility presupposes
depth."

"I see what you mean," said Rachel. "Gentleness is not feebleness,
nor lowness lowliness. There must be something held back."

"I see it daily," said Colonel Keith; and for a moment he seemed
about to add something, but checked himself, and took advantage of an
interruption to change the conversation.

"Superior natures lowly and gentle!" said Rachel to herself. "Am I
so to him, then, or is he deceiving himself? What is to be done? At
my age! Such a contravention of my principles! A soldier, an
honourable, a title in prospect, Fanny's major! Intolerable! No,
no! My property absorbed by a Scotch peerage, when I want it for so
many things! Never. I am sorry for him though. It is hard that a
man who can forgive a woman for intellect, should be thrown back on
poor little Fanny; and it is gratifying--. But I am untouched yet,
and I will take care of myself. At my age a woman who loves at all,
loves with all the gathered force of her nature, and I certainly feel
no such passion. No, certainly not; and I am resolved not to be
swept along till I have made up my mind to yield to the force of the
torrent. Let us see."

"Grace, my dear," said Mrs. Curtis, in one of her most confidential
moments, "is not dear Rachel looking very well? I never saw her
dress so well put on."

"Yes, she is looking very handsome," said Grace. "I am glad she has
consented to have her hair in that now way, it is very becoming to
her."

"I--I don't know that it is all the hair," said the mother,
faltering, as if half ashamed of herself; "but it seemed to me that
we need not have been so uneasy about dear Fanny. I think, don't
you? that there may be another attraction. To be sure, it would be
at a terrible distance from us; but so good and kind as he is, it
would be such a thing for you and Fanny as well--" Grace gave a great
start.

"Yes, my dear," Mrs. Curtis gently prosed on with her speculation,
"she would be a dreadful loss to us; but you see, so clever and odd
as she is, and with such peculiar ideas, I should be so thankful to
see her in the hands of some good, sensible man that would guide
her."

"But do you really think it is so, mother?"

"Mind, my dear, it is nothing to build on, but I cannot help being
struck, and just thinking to myself. I know you'll not say
anything."

Grace felt much distressed after this communication had opened her
eyes to certain little touches of softening and consciousness that
sat oddly enough on her sister. From the first avowal of Colonel
Keith's acquaintance with the Williamses, she had concluded him to be
the nameless lover, and had been disappointed that Alison, so far
from completing the confidence, had become more reserved than ever,
leaving her to wonder whether he were indeed the same, or whether his
constancy had survived the change of circumstances. There were no
grounds on which to found a caution, yet Grace felt full of
discomfort and distrust, a feeling shared by Alison, who had never
forgiven herself for her half confidence, and felt that it would be
wiser to tell the rest, but was withheld by knowing that her motive
would actuate her sister to a contrary course. That Colin should
detach himself from her, love again, and marry, was what Ermine
schooled herself to think fitting; but Alison alternated between
indignant jealousy for her sister, and the desire to warn Rachel that
she might at best win only the reversion of his heart. Ermine was
happy and content with his evening visits, and would not take umbrage
at the daily rides, nor the reports of drawing-room warfare, and
Alison often wavered between the desire of preparing her, and the
doubt whether it were not cruel to inflict the present pain of want
of confidence. If that were a happy summer to some at Avonmouth, it
was a very trying one to those two anxious, yet apparently
uninterested sisters, who were but lookers-on at the game that
affected their other selves.

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