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Arthur B. Reeve - "The Exploits of Elaine"

Brigadier Margaret Allen - "Fletcher of Madeley"

Louise Muhlbach - "Berlin and Sans Souci"

Cyril G. Hopkins - "The Farm That Won't Wear Out"

THE CLEVER WOMAN OF THE FAMILY

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




"I am not going," returned Rachel, an announcement that electrified
her auditors, for the family quota of books being quite insufficient
for her insatiable appetite, she was a subscriber on her own account,
and besides, this was the grand annual gathering for disposing of old
books, when she was relied on for purchasing all the nuts that nobody
else would crack. The whole affair was one of the few social
gatherings that she really tolerated and enjoyed, and her mother
gazed at her in amazement.

"I wrote to Mrs. Spicer a month ago to take my name off. I have no
superfluous money to spend on my selfish amusement."

"But Rachel," said Grace, "did you not particularly want--oh! that
fat red book which came to us uncut?"

"I did, but I must do without it."

"Poor Mr. Spicer, he reckoned on you to take it; indeed, he thought
you had promised him."

"If there is anything like a promise, I suppose it must be done, but
I do not believe there is. I trust to you, Grace, you know I have
nothing to waste."

"You had better go yourself, my dear, and then you would be able to
judge. It would be more civil by the society, too."

"No matter, indeed I cannot; in fact, Mr. Mauleverer is coming this
morning to give his report and arrange our building plans. I want to
introduce him to Mr. Mitchell, and fix a day for going over."

Mrs. Curtis gave up in despair, and consulted her eldest daughter in
private whether there could have been any misunderstanding with
Colonel Keith to lead Rachel to avoid him in a manner that was
becoming pointed. Grace deemed it nothing but absorption into the
F. U. E. E., and poor Mrs. Curtis sighed over this fleeting away of
her sole chance of seeing Rachel like other people. Of Mr.
Mauleverer personally she had no fears, he was in her eyes like a
drawing or music-master, and had never pretended to be on equal terms
in society with her daughters, and she had no doubts or scruples in
leaving Rachel to her business interview with him, though she much
regretted this further lapse from the ordinary paths of sociability.

Rachel, on the other hand, felt calmly magnanimous in the completion
of a veritable sacrifice, for those books had afforded her much
enjoyment, and she would much like to have possessed many of those
that would be tossed aside at a cheap rate. But the constant small
expenses entailed by the first setting on foot such an establishment
as the F. U. E. E. were a heavy drain on her private purse, as she
insisted on all accounts being brought to her, and then could not
bear that these small nondescript matters should be charged upon the
general fund, which having already paid the first half-year's rent in
advance, and furnished the house, must be recruited by some
extraordinary supply before she could build. The thing could not be
done at all but by rigid economy, and she was ready to exercise it,
and happy in so doing. And the Colonel? She thought the pain of her
resolution was passing. After all, it was not so dreadful as people
would have one believe, it was no such wrench as novels described to
make up one's mind to prefer a systematically useful life to an
agreeable man.

Mr. Mauleverer came, with a good report of the children's progress,
and talking quite enthusiastically of Lovedy's sweetness and
intelligence. Perhaps she would turn out a superior artist, now that
chill penury no longer repressed her noble rage, and he further
brought a small demand for drawing materials and blocks for
engraving, to the amount of five pounds, which Rachel defrayed from
the general fund, but sighed over its diminution.

"If I could only make the Barnaby bargain available," she said; "it
is cruel to have it tied up to mere apprenticeships, which in the
present state of things are absolutely useless, or worse."

"Can nothing be done?"

"You shall hear. Dame Rachel Curtis, in 1605, just when this place
was taking up lace-making, an art learnt, I believe, from some poor
nuns that were turned out of St. Mary's, at Avoncester, thought she
did an immense benefit to the place by buying the bit of land known
as Burnaby's Bargain, and making the rents go yearly to apprentice
two poor girls born of honest parents. The rent is fourteen pounds,
and so the fees are so small that only the small lace-makers here
will accept them. I cannot get the girls apprenticed to anything
better in the towns except for a much larger premium."

"Do I understand you that such a premium is at present to be
bestowed?"

"No, not till next June. The two victims for this year have been
sacrificed. But perhaps another time it might be possible to bind
them to you as a wood engraver or printer!" cried Rachel, joyfully.

"I should be most happy. But who would be the persons concerned?"

"The trustees are the representative of our family and the rector of
the parish--not Mr. Touchett (this is only a district), but poor old
Mr. Linton at Avonbridge, who is barely able to sign the papers, so
that practically it all comes to me."

"Extremely fortunate for the objects of the charity."

"I wish it were so; but if it could only be made available in such a
cause as ours, I am sure my good namesake's intentions would be much
better carried out than by binding these poor girls down to their
cushions. I did once ask about it, but I was told it could only be
altered by Act of Parliament."

"Great facilities have of late been given," said Mr. Mauleverer,
"many old endowments have most beneficially extended their scope.
May I ask where the land in question is?"

"It is the level bit of meadow just by the river, and all the slope
down to the mouth; it has always been in our hands, and paid rent as
part of the farm. You know how well it looks from the garden-seat,
but it always grieves me when people admire it, for I feel as if it
were thrown away."

"Ah! I understand. Perhaps if I could see the papers I could judge
of the feasibility of some change."

Rachel gladly assented, and knowing where to find the keys of the
strong box, she returned in a short space with a parcel tied up with,
red tape, and labelled "Barnaby's Bargain."

"I have been thinking," she exclaimed, as she came in, "that that
piece of land must have grown much more valuable since this rent was
set on it! Fourteen pounds a year, why we never thought of it; but
surely in such a situation, it would be worth very much more for
building purposes."

"There can be no doubt. But your approach, Miss Curtis?"

"If it is a matter of justice to the charity, of course that could
not be weighed a moment. But we must consider what is to be done.
Get the land valued, and pay rent for it accordingly? I would give
it up to its fate, and let it for what it would bring, but it would
break my mother's heart to see it built on."

"Perhaps I had better take the papers and look over them. I see they
will need much consideration."

"Very well, that will be the best way, but we will say nothing about
it till we have come to some conclusion, or we shall only startle and
distress my mother. After all, then, I do believe we have the real
income of the F. U. E. E. within our very hands! It might be ten
times what it is now."

Rachel was in higher spirits than ever. To oblige the estate to pay
£140 a year to the F. U. E. E. was beyond measure delightful, and
though it would be in fact only taking out of the family pocket, yet
that was a pocket she could not otherwise get at. The only thing for
which she was sorry was that Mr. Mauleverer had an appointment, and
could not come with her to call on Mr. Mitchell; but instead of this
introduction, as she had sworn herself to secrecy rather than worry
her mother till the ways and means were matured, she resolved, by way
of compensation, upon going down to impart to Ermine Williams this
grave reformation of abuses, since this was an afternoon when there
was no chance of meeting the Colonel.

Very happy did she feel in the hope that had come to crown her
efforts at the very moment when she had actually and tangibly given
up a pleasure, and closed a door opening into worldly life, and she
was walking along with a sense of almost consecrated usefulness, to
seek her companion in the path of maiden devotion, when in passing
the gates of Myrtlewood, she was greeted by Captain Keith and his
bright-eyed sister, just coming forth together.

A few words told that they were all bound for Mackarel Lane, actuated
by the same probability of finding Miss Williams alone, the Colonel
being absent.

"Wonderfully kind to her he is," said Rachel, glad to praise him to
convince herself that she did not feel bitter; "he takes that little
girl out walking with him every morning."

"I wonder if his constancy will ever be rewarded?" said Bessie,
lightly; then, as Rachel looked at her in wonder and almost rebuke
for so direct and impertinent a jest, she exclaimed, "Surely you are
not in ignorance! What have I done? I thought all the world knew--
all the inner world, that is, that revels in a secret."

"Knew what?" said Rachel, unavoidable intolerable colour rushing into
her face.

"Why the romance of Colin and Ermine! To live on the verge of such
a--a tragi-comedy, is it? and not be aware of it, I do pity you."

"The only wonder is how you knew it," said her brother, in a tone of
repression.

"I! Oh, it is a fine thing to be a long-eared little pitcher when
one's elders imagine one hears nothing but what is addressed to
oneself. There I sat, supposed to be at my lessons, when the English
letters came in, and I heard papa communicating to mamma how he had a
letter from old Lord Keith--not this one but one older still--the
father of him--about his son's exchange--wanted papa to know that he
was exemplary and all that, and hoped he would be kind to him, but
just insinuated that leave was not desirable--in fact it was to break
off an affair at home. And then, while I was all on fire to see what
a lover looked like, comes another letter, this time to mamma, from
Lady Alison something, who could not help recommending to her
kindness her dear nephew Colin, going out broken-hearted at what was
feared would prove a fatal accident, to the dearest, noblest girl in
the world, for so she must call Ermine Williams. Ermine was a name
to stick in one's memory if Williams was not, and so I assumed
sufficient certainty to draw it all out of dear Lady Temple."

"She knows then?" said Rachel, breathlessly, but on her guard.

"Know? Yes, or she could hardly make such a brother of the Colonel.
In fact, I think it is a bit of treachery to us all to keep such an
affair concealed, don't you?" with a vivid flash out of the corner of
her eyes.

"Treachery not to post up a list of all one's--"

"One's conquests?" said Bessie, snatching the word out of her
brother's mouth. "Did you ever hear a more ingenious intimation of
the number one has to boast?"

"Only in character," calmly returned Alick.

"But do not laugh," said Rachel, who had by this time collected
herself; "if this is so, it must be far too sad and melancholy to be
laughed about."

"So it is," said Alick, with a tone of feeling. "It has been a
mournful business from the first, and I do not see how it is to end."

"Why, I suppose Colonel Colin is his own master now," said Bessie;
"and if he has no objection I do not see who else can make any."

"There are people in the world who are what Tennyson calls
'selfless,'" returned Alick.

"Then the objection comes from her?" said Rachel, anxiously.

"So saith Lady Temple," returned Bessie.

They were by this time in Mackarel Lane. Rachel would have given
much to have been able to turn back and look this strange news in the
face, but consciousness and fear of the construction that might be
put on her change of purpose forced her on, and in a few moments the
three were in the little parlour, where Ermine's station was now by
the fire. There could be no doubt, as Rachel owned to herself
instantly, that there was a change since she first had studied that
face. The bright colouring, and far more, the active intellect and
lively spirit, had always obviated any expression of pining or
invalidism; but to the air of cheerfulness was added a look of
freshened health and thorough happiness, that rendered the always
striking features absolutely beautiful; more so, perhaps, than in
their earliest bloom; and the hair and dress, though always neat, and
still as simply arranged as possible, had an indescribable air of
care and taste that added to the effect of grace and pleasantness,
and made Rachel feel convinced in a moment that the wonder would have
been not in constancy to such a creature but in inconstancy. The
notion that any one could turn from that brilliant, beaming, refined
face to her own, struck her with a sudden humiliation. There was
plenty of conversation, and her voice was not immediately wanted;
indeed, she hardly attended to what was passing, and really dreaded
outstaying the brother and sister. When Ermine turned to her, and
asked after Lovedy Kelland in her new home, she replied like one in a
dream, then gathered herself up and answered to the point, but
feeling the restraint intolerable, soon rose to take leave.

"So soon?" said Ermine; "I have not seen you for a long time."

"I--I was afraid of being in the way," said Rachel, the first time
probably that such a fear had ever suggested itself to her, and
blushing as Ermine did not blush.

"We are sure to be alone after twilight," said Ermine, "if that is
not too late for you, but I know you are much occupied now."

Somehow that invalid in her chair had the dignity of a queen
appointing her levee, and Rachel followed the impulse of thanking and
promising, but then quickly made her escape to her own thoughts.

"Her whole soul is in that asylum," said Ermine, smiling as she went.
"I should like to hear that it is going on satisfactorily, but she
does not seem to have time even to talk."

"The most wonderful consummation of all," observed Bessie.

"No," said Ermine, "the previous talk was not chatter, but real
effervescence from the unsatisfied craving for something to do."

"And has she anything to do now?" said Bessie.

"That is exactly what I want to know. It would be a great pity if
all this real self-devotion were thrown away."

"It cannot be thrown away," said Alick.

"Not on herself," said Ermine, "but one would not see it misdirected,
both for the waste of good energy and the bitter disappointment."

"Well," said Bessie, "I can't bear people to be so dreadfully in
earnest!"

"You are accountable for the introduction, are not you?" said Ermine.

"I'm quite willing! I think a good downfall plump would be the most
wholesome thing that could happen to her; and besides, I never told
her to take the man for her almoner and counsellor! I may have
pointed to the gulf, but I never bade Curtia leap into it."

"I wish there were any one to make inquiries about this person," said
Ermine; "but when Colonel Keith came it was too late. I hoped she
might consult him, but she has been so much absorbed that she really
has never come in his way."

"She would never consult any one," said Bessie.

"I am not sure of that," replied Ermine. "I think that her real
simplicity is what makes her appear so opinionated. I verily believe
that there is a great capability of humility at the bottom."

"Of the gulf," laughed Bessie; but her brother said, "Quite true.
She has always been told she is the clever woman of the family, and
what can she do but accept the position?"

"Exactly," said Ermine; "every one has given way to her, and, of
course, she walks over their bodies, but there is something so noble
about her that I cannot but believe that she will one day shake
herself clear of her little absurdities."

"That is contrary to the usual destiny of strong-minded women," said
Bessie.

"She is not a strong-minded woman, she only has been made to believe
herself one," said Ermine, warmly.

With this last encounter, Bessie and her brother took leave, and the
last at once exclaimed, in sentimental tones, "Generous rivals! I
never saw so good a comedy in all my days! To disclose the fatal
truth, and then bring the rival fair ones face to face!"

"If that were your belief, Bessie, the demon of teasing has fuller
possession of you than I knew."

"Ah! I forgot," exclaimed Bessie, "it is tender ground with you
likewise. Alas! Alick, sisterly affection cannot blind me to the
fact of that unrequited admiration for your honourable rival."

"What, from the strong-minded Curtia?"

"Ah! but have we not just heard that this is not the genuine article,
only a country-made imitation? No wonder it was not proof against an
honourable colonel in a brown beard."

"So much the better; only unluckily there has been a marked avoidance
of him."

"Yes; the Colonel was sacrificed with all other trivial incidents at
the shrine of the F. U. L. E.--E. E., I mean. And only think of
finding out that one has been sacrificing empty air after all--and to
empty air!"

"Better than to sacrifice everything to oneself," said Alick.

"Not at all. The latter practice is the only way to be agreeable!
By-the-bye, Alick, I wonder if she will deign to come to the ball?"

"What ball?"

"Your ball at Avoncester. It is what I am staying on for! Major
McDonald all but promised me one; and you know you must give one
before you leave this place."

"Don't you know that poor Fraser has just been sent for home on his
sister's death?"

"But I conclude the whole regiment does not go into mourning?"

"No, but Fraser is the one fellow to whom this would be real
enjoyment. Indeed, I particularly wish no hints may be given about
it. Don't deny, I know you have ways of bringing about what you
wish, and I will not have them used here. I know something of the
kind must be done before we leave Avoncester, but to give one this
autumn would be much sooner than needful. I believe there is hardly
an officer but myself and Fraser to whom the expense would not be a
serious consideration, and when I tell you my father had strong
opinions about overdoing reciprocities of gaiety, and drawing heavily
on the officers' purses for them, I do not think you will allow their
regard for him to take that manifestation towards you."

"Of course not," said Bessie, warmly; "I will not think of it again.
Only when the fate does overtake you, you will have me here for it,
Alick?"

He readily promised, feeling gratified at the effect of having spoken
to his sister with full recognition of her good sense.

Meantime Rachel was feeling something of what Bessie ascribed to her,
as if her sacrifice had been snatched away, and a cloud placed in its
stead. Mortification was certainly present, and a pained feeling of
having been made a fool of, whether by the Colonel or herself, her
candid mind could hardly decide; but she was afraid it was by
herself. She knew she had never felt sure enough of his attentions
to do more than speculate on what she would do if they should become
more pointed, and yet she felt angry and sore at having been exposed
to so absurd a blunder by the silence of the parties concerned.
"After all," she said to herself, "there can be no great harm done, I
have not been weak enough to commit my heart to the error. I am
unscathed, and I will show it by sympathy for Ermine. Only--only,
why could not she have told me?"

An ordeal was coming for which Rachel was thus in some degree
prepared. On the return of the party from the book club, Mrs. Curtis
came into Rachel's sitting-room, and hung lingering over the fire as
if she had something to say, but did not know how to begin. At last,
however, she said, "I do really think it is very unfair, but it was
not his fault, he says."

"Who?" said Rachel, dreamily.

"Why, Colonel Keith, my dear," said good Mrs. Curtis, conceiving that
her pronominal speech had "broken" her intelligence; "it seems we
were mistaken in him all this time."

"What, about Miss Williams?" said Rachel, perceiving how the land
lay; "how did you hear it?"

"You knew it, my dear child," cried her mother in accents of extreme
relief.

"Only this afternoon, from Bessie Keith."

"And Fanny knew it all this time," continued Mrs. Curtis. "I cannot
imagine how she could keep it from me, but it seems Miss Williams was
resolved it should not be known. Colonel Keith said he felt it was
wrong to go on longer without mentioning it, and I could not but say
that it would have been a great relief to have known it earlier."

"As far as Fanny was concerned it would," said Rachel, looking into
the fire, but not without a sense of rehabilitating satisfaction, as
the wistful looks and tone of her mother convinced her that this
semi-delusion had not been confined to herself.

"I could not help being extremely sorry for him when he was telling
me," continued Mrs. Curtis, as much resolved against uttering the
idea as Rachel herself could be. "It has been such a very long
attachment, and now he says he has not yet been able to overcome her
scruples about accepting him in her state. It is quite right of her,
I can't say but it is, but it is a very awkward situation."

"I do not see that," said Rachel, feeling the need of decision in
order to reassure her mother; "it is very sad and distressing in some
ways, but no one can look at Miss Williams without seeing that his
return has done her a great deal of good; and whether they marry or
not, one can only be full of admiration and respect for them."

"Yes, yes," faltered Mrs. Curtis; "only I must say I think it was due
to us to have mentioned it sooner."

"Not at all, mother. Fanny knew it, and it was nobody's concern but
hers. Pray am I to have Owen's 'Palaeontology'?"

"No, Colonel Keith bought that, and some more of the solid books. My
dear, he is going to settle here; he tells me he has actually bought
that house he and his brother are in."

"Bought it!"

"Yes; he says, any way, his object is to be near Miss Williams.
Well, I cannot think how it is to end, so near the title as he is,
and her sister a governess, and then that dreadful business about her
brother, and the little girl upon her hands. Dear me, I wish Fanny
had any one else for a governess."

"So do not I," said Rachel. "I have the greatest possible admiration
for Ermine Williams, and I do not know which I esteem most, her for
her brave, cheerful, unrepining unselfishness, or him for his
constancy and superiority to all those trumpery considerations. I am
glad to have the watching of them. I honour them both."

Yes, and Rachel honoured herself still more for being able to speak
all this freely and truly out of the innermost depths of her candid
heart.




CHAPTER XIV.



THE GOWANBRAE BALL.



"Your honour's pardon,
I'd rather have my wounds to heal again,
Than hear say how I got them."--Coriolanus.


"Yes, I go the week after next."

"So soon? I thought you were to stay for our ball."

"Till this time next year! No, no, I can't quite do that, thank
you."

"This very winter."

"Oh, no--no such thing! Why, half the beauty and fashion of the
neighbourhood is not come into winter quarters yet. Besides, the
very essence of a military ball is that it should be a parting--the
brightest and the last. Good morning."

And Meg's head, nothing loth, was turned away from the wide view of
the broad vale of the Avon, with the Avoncester Cathedral towers in
the midst, and the moors rising beyond in purple distance. The two
young lieutenants could only wave their farewells, as Bessie cantered
merrily over the soft smooth turf of the racecourse, in company with
Lord Keith, the Colonel, and Conrade.

"Do you not like dancing?" inquired Lord Keith, when the canter was
over, and they were splashing through a lane with high hedges.

"I'm not so unnatural," returned Bessie, with a merry smile, "but it
would never do to let the Highlanders give one now. Alick has been
telling me that the expense would fall seriously on a good many of
them."

"True," said Colonel Keith, "too many fetes come to be a heavy tax."

"That is more consideration than is common in so young a lad," added
Lord Keith.

"Yes, but dear Alick is so full of consideration," said the sister,
eagerly. "He does not get half the credit for it that he deserves,
because, you know, he is so quiet and reserved, and has that unlucky
ironical way with him that people don't like; especially rattlepates
like those," pointing with her whip in the direction of the two young
officers.

"It is a pity," said the Colonel, "it lessens his influence. And it
is strange I never perceived it before his return to England."

"Oh! there's much owing to the habitual languor of that long illness.
That satirical mumble is the only trouble he will take to lift up his
testimony, except when a thing is most decidedly his duty, and then
he does it as England expects."

"And he considered it his duty to make you decline this ball?" said
Lord Keith.

"Oh, not his more than mine," said Bessie. "I don't forget that I am
the Colonel's daughter."

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