THE CLEVER WOMAN OF THE FAMILY

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

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The brother left the field entirely to his sister for the present; he
was a good deal occupied after his leave, and other officers being
away, he was detained at Avoncester, and meantime Bessie Keith took
all hearts by storm with her gay good humour and eager sympathy. By
the end of the first morning she had been to the stable with a swarm
of boys, patted, and learnt the names of all the ponies; she was on
the warmest terms with the young spaniel, that, to the Curtises'
vexation, one of the officers had given Conrade, and which was always
getting into the way; she had won Alison by telling her of Mr.
Clare's recollections of Ermine's remarkable beauty and intelligence,
and charmed Ermine herself by his kind messages and her own sunshiny
brightness; she had delighted Mrs. Curtis and Grace by appreciating
their views and their flowers; she had discussed hymnals and chants
with Mr. Touchett, and promised her services; she had given a
brilliant object lesson at Mrs. Kelland's, and received one herself
in lace-making; and had proved herself, to Rachel's satisfaction,
equally practical and well-read. All the outer world was asking,
"Have you seen the young lady with Lady Temple?"

Nothing came amiss to her, from the antiquity of man to Stephana's
first words; and whether she taught Grace new stitches, played
cricket with Conrade, made boats for Cyril, prattled with Lady
Temple, or studied with Rachel, all was done with grace, zest, and
sympathy peculiarly her own. Two practisings at the school removed
the leaden drawl, and lessened the twang of the choir; and Mr.
Touchett looked quite exalted, while even Rachel owned that she had
hardly believed her ears.

Rachel and she constituted themselves particular friends, and Grace
kept almost aloof in the fear of disturbing them. She had many
friends, and this was the first, except Ermine Williams, to whom
Rachel had taken, since a favourite companion of her youth had
disappointed her by a foolish marriage. Bessie's confidences had a
vigour in them that even Rachel's half-way meetings could not check,
and then the sharp, clever things she would say, in accordance with
Rachel's views, were more sympathetic than anything she had met with.
It was another new charm to life.

One great pleasure they enjoyed together was bathing. The Homestead
possessed a little cove of its own under the rocks, where there was a
bathing-house, and full perfection of arrangement for young ladies'
aquatic enjoyment, in safety and absolute privacy. Rachel's vigorous
strength and health had been greatly promoted by her familiarity with
salt water, and Bessie was in ecstasies at the naiad performances
they shared together on the smooth bit of sandy shore, where they
dabbled and floated fearlessly. One morning, when they had been down
very early to be beforehand with the tide, which put a stop to their
enjoyment long before the breakfast hour, Bessie asked if they could
not profit by their leisure to climb round the edge of the cliff's
instead of returning by the direct path, and Rachel agreed, with the
greater pleasure, that it was an enterprise she had seldom performed.

Very beautiful, though adventurous, was the walk--now on the brow of
the steep cliff, looking down on the water or on little bays of
shingle, now through bits of thicket that held out brambles to
entangle the long tresses streaming on their shoulders; always in the
brisk morning air, that filled them with strength and spirit,
laughing, joking, calling to one another and to Conrade's little dog,
that, like every other creature, had attached itself to Bessie, and
had followed her from Myrtlewood that morning, to the vexation of
Rachel, who had no love for dogs in their early youth.

They were beyond the grounds of the Homestead, but had to go a little
further to get into the path, when they paused above a sort of dip or
amphitheatre of rock around a little bay, whilst Rachel began telling
of the smugglers' traditions that haunted the place--how much brandy
and silk had there been landed in the time of the great French war,
and how once, when hard pressed, a party of smugglers, taking a short
cut in the moonlight midnight across the Homestead gardens, had
encountered an escaped Guinea-pig, and no doubt taking it for the
very rat without a tail, in whose person Macbeth's witch was to do,
and to do, and to do, had been nearly scared out of their wits.

Her story was cut short by a cry of distress from the dog, and
looking down, they perceived that the poor fellow had been creeping
about the rocks, and had descended to the little cove, whence he was
incapable of climbing up again. They called encouragingly, and
pretended to move away, but he only moaned more despairingly, and
leapt in vain.

"He has hurt his foot!" exclaimed Rachel; "I must go down after him.
Yes, Don, yes, poor fellow, I'm coming."

"My dear Curtia, don't leap into the gulf!"

"Oh, it's no great height, and the tide will soon fill up this
place."

"Don't! don't! You'll never be able to get up again."

But Rachel was already scrambling down, and, in effect, she was sure-
footed and used to her own crags, nor was the distance much above
thirty foot, so that she was soon safe on the shingle, to the extreme
relief of poor Don, shown by grateful whines; but he was still
evidently in pain, and Rachel thought his leg was broken. And how to
get up the rock, with a spaniel that when she tried to lift it became
apparently twice the size she had always believed it to be, and where
both hands as well as feet were required, with the sea fast advancing
too?

"My dear Rachel, you will only break your neck, too, it is quite vain
to try!"

"If you could just come to that first rock, perhaps I could push him
up to you!"

Bessie came to it, but screamed. "Oh, I'm not steady; I couldn't do
it! Besides, it would hurt him so, and I know you would fall. Poor
fellow, it is very sad; but indeed, Rachel, your life is more
precious than a dog's!"

"I can't leave him to drown," said Rachel, making a desperate
scramble, and almost overbalancing herself. "Here, if you could only
get him by the scrough of his neck, it would not hurt him so much;
poor Don, yes, poor fellow!" as he whined, but still showed his
confidence in the touching manner of a sensible dog, knowing he is
hurt for his good. Bessie made another attempt, but, unused to
rocks, she was uneasy about her footing, and merely frightened
herself. "Indeed," she said, "I had better run and call some one;
I won't be long, and you are really quite safe."

"Yes, quite safe. If you were down here and I above I am sure he
could do it easily."

"Ah! but I'm no cragswoman; I'll be back instantly."

"That way, that's the shortest, call to Zack or his father," tried
Rachel, as the light figure quickly disappeared, leaving her a little
annoyed at her predicament. She was not at all alarmed for herself,
there was no real danger of drowning, she could at any moment get up
the rock herself if she chose to leave the dog to its fate; but that
she could not bear to think of, and she even thought the stimulus of
necessity might prove the mother of invention, if succour should not
come before that lapping flux and reflux of water should have crept
up the shingly beach, on which she stood; but she was anxious, and
felt more and more drawn to the poor dog, so suffering, yet so
patient and confiding. Nor did she like the awkwardness of being
helped in what ought to be no difficulty at all to a native, and
would not have been had her companion, been Grace or even Conrade.
Her hope was that her ally Zack would come, as she had directed
Bessie towards the cottage; but, behold, after a wearily long
interval, it was no blue jacket that appeared, but a round black sea-
hide hat, and a sort of easy clerical-looking dress, that Bessie was
fluttering before!

Few words were required, the stranger's height and length of arms did
all that was needful, and Don was placed in safety with less pain and
outcry than could have been hoped, Rachel ascending before the polite
stranger had time to offer his assistance. The dog's hurt was, he
agreed with Rachel, a broken leg, and his offer of carrying it home
could not be refused, especially as he touched it with remarkable
tenderness and dexterity, adding that with a splint or two, he
thought he had surgery enough to set the limb.

They were much nearer the Homestead than to Myrtle-wood, and as it
had been already agreed that Bessie should breakfast there, the three
bent their steps up the hill as fast as might be, in consideration of
Mrs. Curtis's anxieties. Bessie in a state of great exultation and
amusement at the romantic adventure, Rachel somewhat put out at the
untoward mishap that obliged her to be beholden to one of the casual
visitors, against whom her mother had such a prejudice.

Still, the gentleman himself was far from objectionable, in
appearance or manner; his air was that of an educated man, his dress
that of a clergyman at large, his face keen. Rachel remembered to
have met him once or twice in the town within the last few days, and
wondered if he could be a person who had called in at the lace school
and asked so many questions that Mrs. Kelland had decided that he
could be after no good; he must be one of the Parliament folks that
they sent down to take the bread out of children's mouths by not
letting them work as many hours as was good for them. Not quite
believing in a Government commission on lace-making grievances,
Rachel was still prepared to greet a kindred spirit of philanthropy,
and as she reflected more, thought that perhaps it was well that an
introduction had been procured on any terms.

So she thawed a little, and did not leave all the civility to Miss
Keith, but graciously responded to the stranger's admiration of the
views, the exquisite framings of the summer sea and sky made by tree,
rock, and rising ground, and the walks so well laid out on the little
headland, now on smooth turf, now bordering slopes wild with fern and
mountain ash, now amid luxuriant exotic shrubs that attested the
mildness of Avonmouth winters.

When they came near the front of the house, Rachel took man and dog
in through the open window of her own sitting-room, and hastened to
provide him with bandages and splints, leaving Bessie to reassure
Mrs. Curtis that no human limbs were broken, and that no one was even
wet to the skin; nay, Bessie had even the tact to spare Mrs. Curtis
the romantic colouring that delighted herself. Grace had followed
Rachel to assist at the operation, and was equally delighted with its
neatness and tenderness, as well as equally convinced of the
necessity of asking the performer first to wash his hands and then to
eat his breakfast, both which kind proposals he accepted with
diffident gratitude, first casting a glance around the apartment,
which, though he said nothing, conveyed that he was profoundly struck
with the tokens of occupation that it contained. The breakfast was,
in the first place, a very hungry one; indeed, Bessie had been too
ravenous to wait till the surgery was over, and was already arrived
at her second egg when the others appeared, and the story had again
to be told to the mother, and her warm thanks given. Mrs. Curtis did
not like strangers when they were only names, but let her be brought
in contact, and her good nature made her friendly at once, above all
in her own house. The stranger was so grave and quiet too, not at
all presuming, and making light of his services, but only afraid he
had been trespassing on the Homestead grounds. These incursions of
the season visitors were so great a grievance at the Homestead that
Mrs. Curtis highly approved his forbearance, whilst she was pleased
with his tribute to her scenery, which he evidently admired with an
artistic eye. Love of sketching had brought him to Avonmouth, and
before he took leave, Mrs. Curtis had accorded him that permission to
draw in her little peninsula for which many a young lady below was
sighing and murmuring. He thanked her with a melancholy look,
confessing that in his circumstances his pencil was his toy and his
solace.

"Once again, that landscape painter!" exclaimed Bessie, with uplifted
hands, as soon as both he and Mrs. Curtis were out of earshot, "an
adventure at last."

"Not at all," said Rachel, gravely; "there was neither alarm nor
danger."

"Precisely; the romance minus the disagreeables. Only the sea
monster wanting. Young Alcides, and rock--you stood there for
sacrifice, I was the weeping Dardanian dames."

Even Grace could not help laughing at the mischief of the one, and
the earnest seriousness of the other.

"Now, Bessie, I entreat that you will not make a ridiculous story of
a most simple affair," implored Rachel.

"I promise not to make one, but don't blame me if it makes itself."

"It cannot, unless some of us tell the story."

"What, do you expect the young Alcides to hold his tongue? That is
more than can be hoped of mortal landscape painter."

"I wish you would not call him so. I am sure he is a clergyman."

"Landscape painter, I would lay you anything you please."

"Nay," said Grace, "according to you, that is just what he ought not
to be."

"I do not understand what diverts you so much," said Rachel, growing
lofty in her displeasure. "What matters it what the man may be?"

"That is exactly what we want to see," returned Bessie.

Poor Rachel, a grave and earnest person like her, had little chance
with one so full of playful wit and fun as Bessie Keith, to whom her
very dignity and susceptibility of annoyance made her the better
game. To have involved the grave Rachel in such a parody of an
adventure was perfectly irresistible to her, and to expect absolute
indifference to it would, as Grace felt, have been requiring mere
stupidity. Indeed, there was forbearance in not pushing Rachel
further at the moment; but proceeding to tell the tale at Myrtlewood,
whither Grace accompanied Bessie, as a guard against possible madcap
versions capable of misconstruction.

"Yes," said Rachel to herself, "I see now what Captain Keith regrets.
His sister, with all her fine powers and abilities, has had her tone
lowered to the hateful conventional style of wit that would put me to
the blush for the smallest mishap. I hope he will not come over till
it is forgotten, for the very sight of his disapproval would incite
her further. I am glad the Colonel is not here. Here, of course, he
is in my imagination. Why should I be referring everything to him;
I, who used to be so independent? Suppose this nonsense gave him
umbrage? Let it. I might then have light thrown on his feelings and
my own. At any rate, I will not be conscious. If this stranger be
really worth notice, as I think he is, I will trample on her
ridicule, and show how little I esteem it."

CHAPTER IX

THE NEW SPORT

"'Sire,' I replied, 'joys prove cloudlets,
Men are the merest Ixions.'
Here the King whistled aloud, 'Let's,
Heigho, go look at our lions!'
Such are the sorrowful chances
If you talk fine to King Francis."--R. BROWNING.

The day after Rachel's adventure with Don a card came into the
drawing-room, and therewith a message that the gentleman had availed
himself of Mrs. Curtis's kind permission, and was sketching the
Spinster's Needles, two sharp points of red rock that stood out in
the sea at the end of the peninsula, and were specially appropriated
by Rachel and Grace.

The card was written, not engraved, the name "Rd. R. H. C. L.
Mauleverer;" and a discussion ensued whether the first letters stood
for Richard or for Reverend, and if he could be unconscionable enough
to have five initials. The sisters had some business to transact at
Villars's, the Avonmouth deposit of literature and stationery, which
was in the hands of a somewhat aspiring genius, who edited the weekly
paper, and respected Miss Rachel Curtis in proportion to the number
of periodicals she took in, and the abstruseness of the publications
she inquired after. The paper in its Saturday's dampness lay fresh
on the counter, and glancing at the new arrivals, Grace had the
desired opportunity of pointing to Mr. Mauleverer's name, and asking
when he had come. About a week since, said the obliging Mr. Villars,
he appeared to be a gentleman of highly literary and artistic tastes,
a philanthropist; indeed, Mr. Villars understood him to be a clerical
gentlemen who had opinions--

"Oh, Rachel, I am very sorry," said Grace.

"Sorry, what for?"

"Why, you and mamma seemed quite inclined to like him."

"Well, and what have we heard?"

"Not much that is rational, certainly," said Grace, smiling; "but we
know what was meant."

"Granting that we do, what is proved against him? No, I will not say
proved, but alleged. He is one of the many who have thought for
themselves upon the perplexing problems of faith and practice, and
has been sincere, uncompromising, self-sacrificing, in avowing that
his mind is still in that state of solution in which all earnest and
original minds must be ere the crystallizing process sets in.
Observe, Grace, I am not saying for an instant that he is in the
right. All I do say is, that when depth of thought and candour have
brought misfortune upon a man, it is ungenerous, therefore, to treat
him as if he had the leprosy."

"Indeed, Rachel, I think you have made more out of his opinions than
I did."

"I was only arguing on your construction of his opinions."

"Take care--!" For they were at this moment reaching a gate of
Myrtlewood, and the sound of hoofs came close behind them. They were
those of the very handsome chestnut, ridden by Alexander Keith, who
jumped off his horse with more alacrity than usual as they were
opening the gate for him, and holding out his hand, eagerly said--

"Then I conclude there is nothing the matter?"

"Nothing at all," said Grace. "What did you hear?"

"Only a little drowning, and a compound fracture or two," said he,
relapsing into his languid ease as he gave his bridle to a groom, and
walked with them towards the house.

"There, how very annoying!" exclaimed Rachel, "though, of course,
the smallest adventure does travel."

"I may venture to hope that neither are you drowned, nor my sister's
leg broken, nor a celebrated professor and essayist 'in a high fever
wi' pulling any of you out of the sea.'"

"There, Grace," exclaimed Rachel; "I told you he was something
distinguished."

"My dear Rachel, if his celebrity be in proportion to the rest of the
story."

"Then there really was a rescue!" exclaimed Captain Keith, now with
much more genuine anxiety; and Rachel recollecting her desire that
the right version should have the precedence, quickly answered,
"There was no danger, only Don slipped down into that curved cove
where we walked one day with the boys. I went down after him, but he
had broken his leg. I could not get up with him in my arms, and
Bessie called some one to help me."

"And why could not Bessie help you herself?"

"Oh! strangers can never climb on our slippery rocks as we can."

"Moreover, it would have spoilt the predicament," muttered the
brother to himself; then turning round with a smile, "And is the
child behaving herself?"

Grace and Rachel answered in a eager duet how she was charming every
one, so helpful, so kind, so everything.

"Ah!" he said with real satisfaction, apparent in the eyes that were
so pleasant when open wide enough to be visible; "I knew she always
did better when I was not there."

They were by this time entering the hall, which, in the confident
fashion of the sea-side, stood open; and at the moment Fanny came
tripping downstairs with her dress looped up, and a shady hat on her
head, looking fearfully girlish, thought her cousins, though her
attire was still rigidly black.

"Oh, I am so glad to see you; Don is so much better, Rachel, and
Conrade wants to thank you. He went up yesterday, and was so sorry
you were out. Might it not have been dreadful, Alick? I have been
so wanting to tell you how very delightful that dear sister of yours
is. All the boys are distracted about her. Come out please. She
has been teaching the boys such a delightful game; so much nicer than
cricket, for I can play with them."

Alick and Rachel could not but exchange a glance, and at the same
moment, emerging through the screen of shrubs on the lawn, Bessie
Keith, Conrade, Francis, and Leoline, were seen each with a mallet in
hand and a gay ball in readiness to be impelled through the hoops
that beset the lawn.

"And you really are learning croquet!" exclaimed innocent Grace;
"well, it makes a beautiful ground."

"Croquet!" exclaimed poor Lady Temple, with startled eyes; "you don't
really mean that it is croquet! O Bessie, Bessie!"

"Ah! I didn't mean you to have come so soon," said the much amused
Bessie, as she gave her hand in greeting. "I meant the prejudice to
be first conquered. See, dear Lady Temple, I'm not ashamed; this
whitey brown moustache is going to kiss me nevertheless and
notwithstanding."

And so it certainly did, and smiled into the bargain, while the boys
came clamouring up, and after thanks for Don's preservation, began
loudly to beg mamma would come, they could not make up their sides
without her, but mamma was distressed and unhappy.

"Not now, my dears--I must--I must. Indeed I did not know."

"Now, Alick, I trust to your generosity," said Bessie, finding that
they must be pacified. "Coming, Con--Come, Grace, come and convince
Lady Temple that the pastime is not too wicked for you."

"Indeed, Alick," Lady Temple was saying. "I am very sorry, I won't
allow it one moment if you think it is objectionable."

"But I don't," said Alick, smiling. "Far from it. It is a capital
game for you and your boys."

"I thought--I thought you disapproved and could not bear it," said
Lady Temple, wondering and wistful.

"Can't bear is not disapprove. Indeed," seeing that gentle earnest
alone could console her, "there is no harm in the game itself. It is
a wholly personal distaste, arising from my having been bored with it
when I was ill and out of spirits."

"But is not there something about it in 'Punch?'" she still asked, so
anxiously, that it was impossible not to smile; but there was not a
particle of that subdued mockery that was often so perplexing in him,
as he replied, "Certainly there is about its abuse as an engine for
flirtation, which, to tell you the truth, was what sickened me with
the sight at Littleworthy; but that is not the line Con and Francie
will take just yet. Why, my uncle is specially addicted to listening
to croquet, and knows by the step and sound how each player is
getting on, till he is quite an oracle in disputed hits."

"So Bessie told me," said Fanny, still feeling that she had been
taken in and the brother unkindly used; "but I can't think how she
could, when you don't like it."

"Nobody is bound to respect foolish prejudices," said Alick, still
quite in earnest. "It would have been very absurd not to introduce
it."

"Come, Alick," said Bessie, advancing, "have you absolved her, and
may we begin? Would it not be a generous act of amnesty if all the
present company united in a match?"

"Too many," said Alick, "odd numbers. I shall go down and call on
Miss Williams. May I come back, Lady Temple, and have a holiday from
the mess?"

"I shall be very glad; only I am afraid there is no dinner."

"So much the better. Only let me see you begin, or I shall never
dare to express an opinion for the future."

"Mamma, do pray, pray begin; the afternoon is wasting like nothing!"
cried Conrade of the much-tried patience. "And Aunt Rachel," he
added, in his magnanimity, "you shall be my partner, and I'll teach
you."

"Thank you, Conrade, but I can't; I promised to be at home at four,"
said Rachel, who had all this time been watching with curious
interest which influence would prevail--whether Alick would play for
Fanny's sake, or Fanny abstain for Alick's sake. She was best
satisfied as it was, but she had still to parry Bessie Keith's
persuasive determination. Why would she go home? it certainly was to
inspect the sketches of the landscape-painter. "You heard, Alick, of
the interesting individual who acted the part of Rachel's preserver,"
she added.

The very force of Rachel's resolution not to be put out of
countenance served to cover her with the most uncomfortable blushes,
all the more at the thought of her own unlucky exclamation. "I came
here," said Alick, coolly, "to assist in recovering the beloved
remains from a watery grave;" and then, as Bessie insisted on hearing
the Avoncester version, he gave it; while Grace added the
intelligence that the hero was a clergyman, sinking the opinions, as
too vague to be mentioned, even had not the company been too flighty
for a subject she thought serious and painful. "And he is at this
moment sketching the Spinster's Needles!" said Bessie. "Well, I am
consoled. With all your resolve to flatten down an adventure, fate
is too strong for you. Something will come of it. Is not the very
resolve that it shall not be an adventure a token?"

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