THE CLEVER WOMAN OF THE FAMILY

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

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Lord Keith could only say "Good-bye;" then, looking after her,
muttered, "After all, that is a remarkable woman."

CHAPTER VIII

WOMAN'S MISSION DISCOVERED.

"But O unseen for three long years,
Dear was the garb of mountaineers
To the fair maid of Lorn."--LORD OF THE ISLES.

"Only nerves," said Alison Williams, whenever she was pushed hard as
to why her sister continued unwell, and her own looks betrayed an
anxiety that her words would not confess. Rachel, after a visit on
the first day, was of the same opinion, and prescribed globules and
enlivenment; but after a personal administration of the latter in the
shape of a discussion of Lord Keith, she never called in the morning
without hearing that Miss Williams was not up, nor in the afternoon
without Alison's meeting her, and being very sorry, but really she
thought it better for her sister to be quite quiet.

In fact, Alison was not seriously uneasy about Ermine's health, for
these nervous attacks were not without precedent, as the revenge for
all excitement of the sensitive mind upon the much-tried
constitution. The reaction must pass off in time, and calm and
patience would assist in restoring her; but the interview with Lord
Keith had been a revelation to her that her affection was not the
calm, chastened, mortified, almost dead thing of the past that she
had tried to believe it; but a young, living, active feeling, as
vivid, and as little able to brook interference as when the first
harsh letter from Gowanbrae had fallen like a thunderbolt on the
bright hopes of youth. She looked back at some verses that she had
written, when first perceiving that life was to be her portion, where
her own intended feelings were ascribed to a maiden who had taken the
veil, believing her crusader slain, but who saw him return and lead a
recluse life, with the light in her cell for his guiding star. She
smiled sadly to find how far the imaginings of four and twenty
transcended the powers of four and thirty; and how the heart that had
deemed itself able to resign was chafed at the appearance of
compulsion. She felt that the right was the same as ever; but it was
an increased struggle to maintain the resolute abstinence from all
that could bind Colin to her, at the moment when he was most likely
to be detached, and it was a struggle rendered the more trying by the
monotony of a life, scarcely varied except by the brainwork, which
she was often obliged to relinquish.

Nothing, however, here assisted her so much as Lady Temple's new pony
carriage which, by Fanny's desire, had been built low enough to
permit of her being easily lifted into it. Inert, and almost afraid
of change, Ermine was hard to persuade, but Alison, guessing at the
benefit, was against her, and Fanny's wistful eyes and caressing
voice were not to be gainsaid; so she suffered herself to be placed
on the broad easy seat, and driven about the lanes, enjoying most
intensely the new scenes, the peeps of sea, the distant moors, the
cottages with their glowing orchards, the sloping harvest fields, the
variety that was an absolute healing to the worn spirits, and
moreover, that quiet conversation with Lady Temple, often about the
boys, but more often about Colonel Keith.

Not only Ermine, but other inhabitants of Avonmouth found the world
more flat in his absence. Rachel's interest was lessened in her
readings after she had lost the pleasure of discussion, and she asked
herself many times whether the tedium were indeed from love, or if it
were simply from the absence of an agreeable companion. "I will try
myself," she said to herself, "if I am heartily interested in my
occupations by the end of the next week, then I shall believe myself
my own woman!"

But in going back to her occupations, she was more than ordinarily
sensible of their unsatisfactoriness. One change had come over her
in the last few months. She did not so much long for a wider field,
as for power to do the few things within her reach more thoroughly.
Her late discussions had, as it were, opened a second eye, that saw
two sides of questions that she had hitherto thought had only one,
and she was restless and undecided between them, longing for some
impulse from within or without, and hoping, for her own dignity and
consistency's sake, that it was not only Colonel Keith's presence
which had rendered this summer the richest in her life.

A test was coming for her, she thought, in the person of Miss Keith.
Judging by the brother, Rachel expected a tall fair dreamy blonde,
requiring to be taught a true appreciation of life and its duties,
and whether the training of this young girl would again afford her
food for eagerness and energy, would, as she said to herself, show
whether her affections were still her own. Moreover, there was the
great duty of deciding whether the brother were worthy of Fanny!

It chanced to be convenient that Rachel should go to Avoncester on
the day of the arrival, and call at the station for the traveller.
She recollected how, five months previously, she had there greeted
Fanny, and had seen the bearded apparition since regarded, with so
much jealousy, and now with such a strangely mixed feeling. This
being a far more indifferent errand, she did not go on the platform,
but sat in the carriage reading the report of the Social Science
Congress, until the travellers began to emerge, and Captain Keith
(for he had had his promotion) came up to her with a young lady who
looked by no means like his sister. She was somewhat tall, and in
that matter alone realized Rachel's anticipations, for she was black-
eyed, and her dark hair was crepe and turned back from a face of the
plump contour, and slightly rosy complexion that suggested the
patches of the last century; as indeed Nature herself seemed to have
thought when planting near the corner of the mouth a little brown
mole, that added somehow to the piquancy of the face, not exactly
pretty, but decidedly attractive under the little round hat, and in
the point device, though simple and plainly coloured travelling
dress.

"Will you allow me a seat?" asked Captain Keith, when he had disposed
of his sister's goods; and on Rachel's assent, he placed himself on
the back seat in his lazy manner.

"If you were good for anything, you would sit outside and smoke,"
said his sister.

"If privacy is required for swearing an eternal friendship, I can go
to sleep instead," he returned, closing his eyes.

"Quite the reverse," quoth Bessie Keith; "he has prepared me to hate
you all, Miss Curtis."

"On the mutual aversion principle," murmured the brother.

"Don't you flatter yourself! Have you found out, Miss Curtis, that
it is the property of this species always to go by contraries?"

"To Miss Curtis I always appear in the meekest state of assent," said
Alick.

"Then I would not be Miss Curtis. How horribly you must differ!"

Rachel was absolutely silenced by this cross fire; something so
unlike the small talk of her experience, that her mind could hardly
propel itself into velocity enough to follow the rapid encounter of
wits. However, having stirred up her lightest troops into marching
order, she said, in a puzzled, doubtful way, "How has he prepared you
to hate us?--By praising us?"

"Oh, no; that would have been too much on the surface. He knew the
effect of that," looking in his sleepy eyes for a twinkle of
response. "No; his very reserve said, I am going to take her to
ground too transcendent for her to walk on, but if I say one word, I
shall never get her there at all. It was a deep refinement, you see,
and he really meant it, but I was deeper," and she shook her head at
him.

"You are always trying which can go deepest?" said Rachel.

"It is a sweet fraternal sport," returned Alick.

"Have you no brother?" asked Bessie.

"No."

"Then you don't know what detestable creatures they are," but she
looked so lovingly and saucily at her big brother, that Rachel, spite
of herself, was absolutely fascinated by this novel form of
endearment. An answer was spared her by Miss Keith's rapture at the
sight of some soldiers in the uniform of her father's old regiment.

"Have a care, Bessie; Miss Curtis will despise you," said her
brother.

"Why should you think so?" exclaimed Rachel, not desirous of putting
on a forbidding aspect to this bright creature.

"Have I not been withered by your scorn!"

"I--I--" Rachel was going to say something of her change of opinion
with regard to military society, but a sudden consciousness set her
cheeks in a flame and checked her tongue; while Bessie Keith, with
ease and readiness, filled up the blank.

"What, Alick, you have brought the service into disrepute! I am
ashamed of you!"

"Oh, no!" said Rachel, in spite of her intolerable blushes, feeling
the necessity of delivering her confession, like a cannon-ball among
skirmishers; "only we had been used to regard officers as necessarily
empty and frivolous, and our recent experience has--has been
otherwise." Her period altogether failed her.

"There, Alick, is that the effect of your weight of wisdom? I shall
be more impressed with it than ever. It has redeemed the character
of your profession. Captain Keith and the army."

"I am afraid I cannot flatter myself," said Alick; and a sort of
reflection of Rachel's burning colour seemed to have lighted on his
cheek, "its reputation has been in better hands."

"O Colonel Colin! Depend upon it, he is not half as sage as you,
Alick. Why, he is a dozen years older!--What, don't you know, Miss
Curtis, that the older people grow the less sage they get?"

"I hope not," said Rachel.

"Do you! A contrary persuasion sustains me when I see people
obnoxiously sage to their fellow-creatures."

"Obnoxious sageness in youth is the token that there is stuff
behind," said Alick, with eagerness that set his sister laughing at
him for fitting on the cap; but Rachel had a sort of odd dreamy
perception that Bessie Keith had unconsciously described her
(Rachel's) own aspect, and that Alick was defending her, and she was
silent and confused, and rather surprised at the assumption of the
character by one who she thought could never even exert himself to be
obnoxious. He evidently did not wish to dwell on the subject, but
began to inquire after Avonmouth matters, and Rachel in return asked
for Mr. Clare.

"Very well," was the answer; "unfailing in spirits, every one agreed
that he was the youngest man at the wedding."

"Having outgrown his obnoxious sageness," said Bessie.

"There is nothing he is so adroit at as guessing the fate of a
croquet-ball by its sound."

"Now Bessie," exclaimed Alick.

"I have not transgressed, have I?" asked Bessie; and in the
exclamations that followed, she said, "You see what want of
confidence is. This brother of mine no sooner saw you in the
carriage than he laid his commands on me not to ask after your
croquet-ground all the way home, and the poor word cannot come out of
my mouth without--"

"I only told you not to bore Miss Curtis with the eternal subject, as
she would think you had no more brains than one of your mallets," he
said, somewhat energetically.

"And if we had begun to talk croquet, we should soon have driven him
outside."

"But suppose I could not talk it," said Rachel, "and that we have no
ground for it."

"Why, then,"--and she affected to turn up her eyes,--"I can only aver
that the coincidence of sentiments is no doubt the work of destiny."

"Bessie!" exclaimed her brother.

"Poor old fellow! you had excuse enough, lying on the sofa to the
tune of tap and click; but for a young lady in the advanced ranks of
civilization to abstain is a mere marvel."

"Surely it is a great waste of time," said Rachel.

"Ah! when I have converted you, you will wonder what people did with
themselves before the invention."

"Woman's mission discovered," quoth her brother.

"Also man's, unless he neglects it," returned Miss Elizabeth; "I
wonder, now, if you would play if Miss Curtis did."

"Wisdom never pledges itself how it will act in hypothetical
circumstances," was the reply.

"Hypothetical," syllabically repeated Bessie Keith; "did you teach
him that word, Miss Curtis? Well, if I don't bring about the
hypothetical circumstances, you may call me hyperbolical."

So they talked, Rachel in a state of bewilderment, whether she were
teased or enchanted, and Alexander Keith's quiet nonchalance not
concealing that he was in some anxiety at his sister's reckless talk,
but, perhaps, he hardly estimated the effect of the gay, quaint
manner that took all hearts by storm, and gave a frank careless grace
to her nonsense. She grew graver and softer as she came nearer
Avonmouth, and spoke tenderly of the kindness she had received at the
time of her mother's death at the Cape, when she had been brought to
the general's, and had there remained like a child of the house, till
she had been sent home on the removal of the regiment to India.

"I remember," she said, "Mrs. Curtis kept great order. In fact,
between ourselves, she was rather a dragon; and Lady Temple, though
she had one child then, seemed like my companion and playfellow.
Dear little Lady Temple, I wonder if she is altered!"

"Not in the least," returned both her companions at once, and she was
quite ready to agree with them when the slender form and fair young
face met her in the hall amid a cloud of eager boys. The meeting was
a full renewal of the parting, warm and fond, and Bessie so comported
herself on her introduction to the children, that they all became
enamoured of her on the spot, and even Stephana relaxed her shyness
on her behalf. That sunny gay good-nature could not be withstood,
and Rachel, again sharing Fanny's first dinner after an arrival, no
longer sat apart despising the military atmosphere, but listening,
not without amusement, to the account of the humours of the wedding,
mingled with Alick Keith's touches of satire.

"It was very stupid," said Bessie, "of none of those girls to have
Uncle George to marry them. My aunt fancied he would be nervous, but
I know he did marry a couple when Mr. Lifford was away; I mean him to
marry me, as I told them all."

"You had better wait till you know whether he will," observed Alick.

"Will? Oh, he is always pleased to feel he can do like other
people," returned Bessie, "and I'll undertake to see that he puts
the ring on the right--I mean the left finger. Because you'll have
to give me away, you know, Alick, so you can look after him."

"You seem to have arranged the programme pretty thoroughly," said
Rachel.

"After four weddings at home, one can't but lay by a little
experience for the future," returned Bessie; "and after all, Alick
need not look as if it must be for oneself. He is quite welcome to
profit by it, if he has the good taste to want my uncle to marry
him."

"Not unless I were very clear that he liked my choice," said Alick,
gravely.

"Oh, dear! Have you any doubts, or is that meant for a cut at poor
innocent me, as if I could help people's folly, or as if he was not
gone to Rio Janeiro," exclaimed Bessie, with a sort of meek
simplicity and unconsciousness that totally removed all the
unsatisfactoriness of the speech, and made even her brother smile
while he looked annoyed; and Lady Temple quietly changed the
conversation. Alick Keith was obliged to go away early, and the
three ladies sat long in the garden outside the window, in the summer
twilight, much relishing the frank-hearted way in which this engaging
girl talked of herself and her difficulties to Fanny as to an old
friend, and to Rachel as belonging to Fanny.

"I am afraid that I was very naughty," she said, with a hand laid on
Lady Temple's, as if to win pardon; "but I never can resist plaguing
that dear anxious brother of mine, and he did so dreadfully take to
heart the absurdities of that little Charlie Carleton, as if any one
with brains could think him good for anything but a croquet partner,
that I could not help giving a little gentle titillation. I saw you
did not like it, dear Lady Temple, and I am sorry for it."

"I hope I did not vex you," said Fanny, afraid of having been severe.

"Oh, no, indeed; a little check just makes one feel one is cared
for," and they kissed affectionately: "you see when one has a very
wise brother, plaguing him is irresistible. How little Stephana will
plague hers, in self-defence, with so many to keep her in order."

"They all spoil her."

"Ah, this is the golden age. See what it will be when they think
themselves responsible for her! Dear Lady Temple, how could you send
him home so old and so grave?"

"I am afraid we sent him home very ill. I never expected to see him
so perfectly recovered. I could hardly believe my eyes when Colonel
Keith brought him to the carriage not in the least lame."

"Yes; and it was half against his will. He would have been almost
glad to be a lay curate to Uncle George, only he knew if he was fit
for service my father would have been vexed at his giving up his
profession."

"Then it was not his choice!" said Rachel.

"Oh, he was born a soldier, like all the rest of us, couldn't help
it. The --th is our home, and if he would only take my hint and
marry, I could be with him there, now! Lady Temple, do pray send for
all the eligible officers--I don't know any of them now, except the
two majors, and Alick suspects my designs, I believe, for he won't
tell me anything about them."

"My dear!" said Fanny, bewildered, "how you talk; you know we are
living a very quiet life here."

"Oh, yes, so Alick has told me," she said, with a pretty compunction
in her tone; "you must be patient with me," and she kissed Fanny's
fingers again and spoke in a gentler way. "I am used to be a great
chatter-box, and nobody protested but Alick."

"I wish you would tell me about his return, my dear; he seemed so
unfit to travel when your poor father came to the hills and took him
away by dak. It seemed so impossible he could bear the journey; he
could not stand or help himself at all, and had constant returns of
fever; but they said the long sea voyage was the only chance, and
that in India he could not get vigour enough to begin to recover.
I was very unhappy about him," said Fanny, innocently, whilst Rachel
felt very vigilant, wondering if Fanny were the cause of the change
his sister spoke of.

"Yes, the voyage did him good, but the tidings of papa's death came
two months before him, and Uncle George's eyes were in such a state
that he had to be kept in the dark, so that no one could go and meet
the poor dear boy at Southampton but Mr. Lifford, and the shock of
the news he heard brought the fever back, and it went on intermitting
for weeks and weeks. We had him at Littleworthy at first, thinking
he could be better nursed and more cheerful there, but there was no
keeping the house quiet enough."

"Croquet!" said Rachel.

"Everything!" returned Bessie. "Four courtships in more or less
progress, besides a few flirtations, and a house where all the
neighbours were running in and out in a sociable way. Our loss was
not as recent there as it was to him, and they were only nieces, so
we could not have interfered with them; besides, my aunt was afraid
he would be dull, and wanted to make the most of her conquering hero,
and everybody came and complimented him, and catechised him whether
he believed in the Indian mutilations, when, poor fellow, he had seen
horrors enough never to bear to think of them, except when the fever
brought them all over again. I am sure there was excuse enough for
his being a little irritable."

"My dear," exclaimed Fanny, quite hurt, "he was patience itself while
he was with us."

"That's the difference between illness and recovery, dear Lady
Temple! I don't blame him. Any one might be irritable with fresh
undetected splinters of bone always working themselves out, all down
one side; and doubts which were worse, the fingers on, or the fingers
off, and no escape from folly or politeness, for he could not even
use a crutch. Oh, no, I don't blame him; I quite excuse the general
dislike he took to everything at poor dear Littleworthy. He viewed
it all like that child in Mrs. Browning's poem, 'seeing through tears
the jugglers leap,' and we have partaken of the juggler aspect to him
ever since!"

"I don't think he could ever be very irritable," said Fanny, taking
the accusation much to heart.

"Sister and recovery!" lightly said Bessie; "they encounter what no
one else does! He only pined for Bishopsworthy, and when we let him
move there, after the first month, he and my uncle were happy. I
stayed there for a little while, but I was only in the way, the dear
good folks were always putting themselves out on my account; and as
to Alick, you can't think how the absence of his poor "souffre-
douleur," invigorated him. Every day I found him able to put more
point into his cutting compliments, and reading to my uncle with more
energy; till at last by the time the --th came home, he had not so
much as a stiff leg to retire upon. Luckily, he and my uncle both
cared too much for my poor father's wishes for him to do so without,
though if any unlucky chance should take Mr. Lifford away from my
uncle, he threatens coming to supply the vacancy, unless I should,
and that is past hope."

"Your home is with your uncle," affirmed Rachel.

"Yes," she said, mournfully, "dear Littleworthy was too happy to
last. It broke itself up by its own charms--all married and gone,
and the last rose of summer in my poor person must float away. Jane
wants her mother and not me, and my uncle will submit to me as
cheerfully as to other necessary evils. It is not myself that I fear
for; I shall be very happy with the dear uncle, but it will be a
dreadful overthrow to his habits."

"I do not see why it need be," said Rachel.

"What! two old bachelors with a young lady turned in on them! And
the housekeeper--think of her feelings!"

"I do not think you need be uneasy, my dear," said Fanny. "Your
brother is convinced that it will be the greatest pleasure and
comfort to Mr. Clare to have you; and though there may be
difficulties at first, I am sure anybody must be the happier for
having you," and she caressed the upturned face, which responded
warmly, but with a sigh.

"Alick is no judge! He is the child of the house, and my uncle and
Mr. Lifford don't feel complete without him. My uncle is as fond of
me as can be, and he and I could get on beautifully, but then Mr.
Lifford is impracticable."

"Impracticable?" said Rachel, taking up the long word. "He objects
to your exerting yourself in the parish. I know what that is."

"Pray, Rachel," said Fanny, imploringly, "pray don't any anything
against him! I am very sorry he has annoyed you, but I do like him."

"Oh, does he play croquet!" cried Bessie.

"I gather," said Rachel, in her impressive tone, a little
disappointed, "that by impracticable you mean one who will not play
croquet."

"You have hit it!" laughed Bessie. "Who will neither play at
croquet, nor let one work except in his way. Well, there are hopes
for you. I cure the curates of every cure I come near, except, of
course, the cure that touches me most nearly. The shoemaker's wife
goes the worst shod! I'll tame yours."

"My dear, I can't have poor Mr. Touchett made game of."

"I won't make game of him, dear Lady Temple, only make him play a
game."

"But you said Alick did not approve," said Fanny, with the dimmest
possible ideas of what croquet was, and believing it a wicked
flirtation trap that figured in "Punch."

"Oh, that's fudge on Master Alick's part! Just the remains of his
old miseries, poor fellow. What he wants is love! Now he'll meet
his fate some of these days; and as he can't meet three Englishwomen
without a mallet in hand, love and croquet will come together."

"Alick is very good," went on Lady Temple, not answering, but arguing
with herself whether this opposition could be right. "Colonel
Hammond gave me such an account of him, so valuable and excellent
among the men, and doing all that is possible for their welfare,
interesting himself about their library, and the regimental school
and all. The colonel said he wished only that he was a little more
easy and popular among the young officers; but so many of his own
standing were gone by the time he joined again, that he lives almost
too much to himself, reads a good deal, and is most exemplary, but
does not quite make his influence as available as it might be."

"That's just it," cried Bessie, eagerly; "the boy is a lazy boy, and
wants shaking up, or he'll get savage and no good. Can't you see, by
the way he uses his poor little sister, what an awful don Captain
Keith must be to a schoolboy of an ensign? He must be taught
toleration and hunted into amiability, or he'll be the most terrible
Turk by the time he is a colonel; and you are the only person that
can do it, dear Lady Temple."

Kachel did not much like this, but it was so prettily and playfully
said that the pleasing impression was quite predominant; and when
Rachel took leave, it was with a sense of vexation that a person whom
she had begun to esteem should be hard upon this bright engaging
sister. Yet it might be well if Fanny took note of the admission
that he could be irritable as well as stern, and sometimes mistaken
in his judgments. What would the Colonel say to all this? The
Colonel--here he was coming back again into her imagination. Another
symptom!

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