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Mistresses and Maids (A Matrimonial Dialogue): By Wraith, The: By Ada Trevanion: 66

Frederick Rule: 141

Writing from Life: By Ada Trevanion: 201

Printed by Rogerson and Tuxford, 265, Strand, Londou,

DARLISTON.

CHAP. XXXI.

LOOKING WITHIN. AN INVITATION.

The Midsummer holidays have for the present brought Helen's studies at Mrs. Thomason's to a close, but she will come to me as usual, and once in a fortnight Miss Ainslie has promised to give her two hours.

On Wednesday instead of my pupil coming to me, I went to Darliston and spent the day. After the course of dictation and reading, I sat beside her in a shady corner of the orchard while she sketched from nature. We purposed a ride on the marsh, but, the day being warm, deferred it till evening. During dinner the old gentleman mentioned that he had just received a letter from my friend abroad, and should think over the request it contained. He came up with us to the drawing-room for a short time and then went to his hay-fields. I sat in a very contented mood listening to Helen's singing, and thought how much she was improved since Richard saw her. I reminded her of the occasion, and she laughed and said she was afraid Captain Gainsborough must have thought her a very rough girl. "Grant had the power of working me up in passions then," she said.

"It is not so long ago, and yet I look back and feel the world is so changed for me-so happily changed that I wonder when I think the time is actually so short. Oh, I was very unhappy at that time; very. It seems," she continued thoughtfully, "as if I had two selves: the one for the outward world, the other for myself. Now the latter I do not feel is much changed the other very much indeed. At that time the two were fighting-now they are at peace. I should not wonder if that is the main difference between happiness and unhappi

ness?"

I did not speak; she went on.

"Miss Ainslie was quoting a French proverb the other day, 'Quand on n'a pas ce que l'on aime, il faut aimer ce que l'on a.' There is a little something in that I do not altogether like, but there is truth as concerns happiness. Either I must have brought my inward self to be in harmony with my outward world in order to be capable of happiness, or my outward

world

must come, as it has done, to be in harmony with my inward self. Do you understand?"

Your outward

world

"Partly, at least. means principally the persons whose companionship affords food for your mind and your affections. Your inward self more essentially your own being-the being that loves and reasons; the feeling, thinking, suffering soul."

"Yes, that is what I feel to be little changed, and when I speak of what is changed, of my outward self, I mean that which has most to do with my outward world, which is much moulded by it; the self which I think of in relation to others, and which aspires to be to them this or that of excellent. My innermost self aspires to what is excellent because it is excellent-that is, to my perceptions, and not because it is commendable in the eyes of others. I should think all souls had those aspirations, I believe Grant had when a boy in some degree. I

suppose they gave way to the tide of circumstance; he too readily brought himself down to harmonize with the influence of some of his companions. I cannot tell what I might have become if I had fallen into bad hands. As it was I know before you came I was tending ill for a young lady; though not, I hope, badly in any moral sense; for my grandfather and Nanny Cargill were pretty safe guides in broad matters of right and wrong Grant and Mr. Hawkins were the only persons saw at all frequently here, so my world was very limited. It is true I went to school, but the fact of the girls there quizzing my oddity, so set my feelings on edge, I could not feel inclined to copy them."

"If they were rude or sarcastic you did better not to try."

"There were one or two I liked better than others, so my pride would allow me to consider them, and I think I may have acquired some good from them. But just think the difference the last four months has made in my world! You, dear Mrs. Gainsborough alone would have been worth all I ever had before put together. Then the Ainslies-they are such a nice family; fit I should think for any society."

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'Well, dear Helen, I will say this, somehow you have improved very rapidly. You have advanced wonderfully in your studies, but what

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strikes me most is the improvement in your manners, or rather I should say manner; for it was more in respect to the manner of doing kind or polite things than in any want of feeling or inclination to do them that you were deficient. You were abrupt, hasty, even a little harsh, as well in your words and tones as in your actions. I noticed this more when you spoke to others than myself."

"I believe I have very much the inclination to catch the tone and manner of those about me." "It occurred to me just now, when you were at the piano that the rapid progress manifested in you put me in mind of those northern countries where, a few days after the snow disappears, vegetation springs and summer commences. A proverb I have somewhere read in one of Miss Bremer's works also came into my head, 'There grows much corn in the winter nights.' That inward self of which you speak must have been working I should think for years past: not making much manifestation perhaps through the outward, but still in its days of darkness and poverty labouring within you on something; gaining in vigour. Had it not been so, you would not have been able to maintain the fight you speak of. You would have submitted to the course events seemed taking; aspired no longer, or only so feebly that your actions would have been uninfluenced."

"I used to have fits of thinking, certainly; or something between dreaming and thinking. I really believe that books were my best supports in cleaving to what is good. I mean goodness of the kind that is called greatness, refinement, or the beautiful. Sometimes what I read would stir me up to some practical step in the way of improvement. It was through reading a novel I felt urged on to go to Mrs. Thomason's. My grandfather would never have sent me, and required some persuasion to be induced to consent. Certainly another thing that made me desire to work out some improvement in myself was the disappointment I felt in Grant. I was aware that in education-school education I mean he was greatly my superior, and yet I had a consciousness within me that I ought to be above him in that, as I felt myself to be in appreciation of the good and great. I was a careless happy girl, before Grant came to the Rood Farm. A vague-looking forward kept me satisfied with present imperfections as well in myself as in things about me. My spirits were capital; I was more light-hearted then than I am now. I had no anxieties of any moment." "But you do not desire to go back to those times ?"

ever

"No-oh, no,-what, and give him up? Not for the world, the best world I dreamt of! I am happy; sometimes, oh, very happy; and often gay and light-hearted too; but certainly I am often anxious and sometimes depressed. You must not think my marriage has brought this about, at least it is in no way to blame for it. My troubles began as I have told you, when Grant's hero-ship melted away in the broad daylight of reality. From that

time I felt I must distrust all pleasant imaginations. I have not got over that feeling entirely, so you may suppose that loving and honouring and delighting in-you know whoI still at times have little qualms of fear; of distrust. My visit to Cardington Castle, as yon know, brought me many such. But they are not troubling me now."

"I do not feel that you are wrong in taking a high view of the character of Arden Mainwaring. Yet, in regard to him, your former hard lesson may prove to have been useful; you will think less of slight short-comings. Real persons have all defects of some kind; but from the time our eyes are opened in some degree to our own, if we are conscious that in sincerity we desire to be something nobler and better than we are, we can make allowance for others; and give them credit, as it is but fair, for like aspirations. I do not think it is necessary, in order to love a person, that he should come up to our ideal of perfection; but that he should hold a similar ideal and make some effort at it, does seem necessary. Without the fellowship of heart and mind this implies there could be no enjoyment in companionship."

"I feel so too; though I suppose people may be attached and suit each other in some respects who have very different views on others."

"Yes; and of course any pursuit in common gives a measure of companionship. I was thinking especially of a lifetime union."

Our discourse had proceeded thus far when it was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Mrs. Cargill. With such a display of excitement as would have much surprised most mistresses, she announced that a gentleman was coming to the Hall-that he was on horseback, and she thought it was Mr. Littington.

"He is coming to invite you, Helen," I said. So it proved indeed. Mr. Littington had rightly considered he was more likely to prevail with Mr. Wainwright by coming in person than writing. Mrs. Cargill sent off a messenger to inform the old Squire; the visitor was conducted to the drawing-room, and at once spoke to Helen on the subject of her joining the company who were to assemble at his house for a strawberry feast. It was to take place pic-nic fashion in Harby Park, the General's permission being freely granted for their roving over his grounds on the occasion. Speaking of this matter led to Mr. Littington's informing me he had also obtained leave for Alfred Merrivale to copy a certain picture in the collection at Harby Hall. Then I told of the unforseen difficulty met with in the matter of the Dulwich commission, about which circumstance we were still conversing when Mr. Wainwright entered.

The old gentleman certainly has the reputation of being of a ticklish temper. Mr. Littington I perceived recognized that it was so; refraining from mention of the purport of his visit until he had ascertained and possibly improved the humour of his visitee.

He began by recourse to that invaluable assistant, the weather; proceeded to the crops;

then the current news, which comprehended a robbery within the vicinity. A house near Mrs. Wellwood's had been broken into the preceding night and the plate carried off. Some comments on the police followed; then the precautions most proper to be taken to discourage such attempts. Mrs. Wellwood it appeared, being a lone lady, was considerably alarmed and had immediately sent her plate, for better security, to Harby Hall.

"Why there?" I asked.

"Mrs. Wellwood is a niece of the old Generals" Mr. Littington answered; "and of course her valuables will be safer there than in her own house."

"I should not feel certain of that," I ventured to say. "The house may be a strong one, but for its size there are few servants and some of them are old. The coachman, I understand, does not sleep in the house?"

"Lately he has done so. The robbery here induced some extra precautions. The alarm bell, I know has been refitted. Consider the situation of the house, with the sea-coast on one side and the village defending great part of the other boundary. The bell would rouse the whole neighbourhood. M'Kinnon the steward, the gardeners, and several other men are living within the park wall, and just beyond the western boundary the Leyton farm people, the Whitecrofts and myself. I don't think they would try it."

"That Mrs. Wellwood ought not to be a timid woman," observed Mr. Wainwright. "She went through a good deal in India in her husband's time I have heard."

"Yes, and went through it well; but he was such a noble fellow, just the one to sustain her courage. She is constitutionally nervous, but such women will sometimes endure hardships and perils in a surprising manner, if they have a brave man near them to whom they are devoted."

"Some one told me three years back you were going to marry her, Mr. Littington; but there are always such reports going."

"Ah-yes; they did me too much honour. Mrs. Wellwood will never marry again. The wonder is she survived the loss of her husband. I believe the necessity there was for her nursing General Wetheral, who was severely wounded in the action which cost her hero his life, was the only thing which sustained her."

"She was a very lovely woman some thirty years back, and she is a very interesting one now; a perfect lady."

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Yes, and much loved and venerated by all who know her. I am quite proud to say she is partial to my nieces. Such a friend is an honour indeed, and gives a sort of guarantee which insures them a good reception anywhere. She can be very cheerful too among young people. I wish you would fallow her example, Mr. Wainwright, and bring your grandaughter to my house on Friday. I am assembling a party to roam in Harby woods and eat strawberries. I have secured Mrs. Gainsborough, Mrs. Well

wood, my sister and her children. Why, what happy fellows we should be! we should have the field all to ourselves, unless we count little Willie for a beau."

"Thank you, Mr. Littington, I don't care much for strawberries nor for roving over any ground but my own. However if you want Helen, I daresay she will be ready enough; you won't keep her late I suppose?"

CHAP. XXXII.

A STRAWBERRY FEAST, WITH SOME ENTERTAINMENT NOT INCLUDED IN THE PROGRAMME.

Helen called for me on Friday and drove me in the gig to Mr. Littington's residence. His nieces had been with him early, to assist in gathering strawberries. Mrs Ainslie, with her youngest, Willie, came about the same time as ourselves, and a little later a carriage drove up bringing Mrs. Wellwood.

Our party being complete, Mr. Littington handed each of the ladies a pretty bouquet, and we crossed his garden, entered a long green lane. and soon found ourselves close to Harby Park. Mr. Littington was provided with a key to a low door, which gave us admittance to a plantation, and when we emerged thence into the open park, Harby Hall became visible at about half-a-mile distance, and some beautiful glimpses of the sea were obtained between trees. I would rather paint views than describe them with pen and ink, so shall say no more concerning these woods and glades than that I should like free permission to stray about them and sketch at will. I would prefer to record some of the merry nonsense talked, but must not tarry long over it, feeling a necessity to push onwards to some graver matter following. All were very gay, including Mrs. Wellwood, whose face, very beautiful in its traits, and full of sensibility, much took my fancy.

Laura had heard from her uncle some account of Alfred Merrivale's disappointment concerning the commission: she now asked who was the stupid gentleman who had caused him so much perplexity. I explained as far as I could about Mr. Witham; and Laura declared she recollected seeing him when he was in the neighbourhood. Appealing to Alice, she recalled an occasion when he assisted them over a stile. This brought forth reminiscences as well from Willie as Alice; the former inquiring if he were not a fast-looking individual with red whiskers and a thick gold chain; Alice asserting she had met him in the lane we had just passed along-that he had bowed to her and stood waiting her approach. She felt she dared not pass him, and ran back to her uncle's garden. "Oh, Alice," said Laura, "you should not be such a little silly; remember you are not a

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child now. I am sure he was very polite that time he assisted us, and it was quite a rude thing to face round and run away!"

"I was afraid it was," said Alice. "I don't know what there was about him, but I knew he was going to say something, and I did not think he was a good subject."

There was a laugh about this, Laura declaring he must be a bad one if Alice thought so, for she seldom distinguished her acquaintance in such a way. Willie, who patronizes Alice rather amusingly, but I believe is really very fond of her, raised his voice to declare that Alice was most likely right; for he had once come upon Mr. Witham when he was skulking under a hedge, and looking for all the world like a poacher.

Mr. Littington would not suffer us to tire ourselves with too much walking, but led us soon to where our repast of strawberries and cream was spread. There were besides most of the usual adjuncts of a pic-nic, and no little seasoning of jest and fun for the good things before us. By-and-bye we became romantic, Willie included. He announced himself as "all the ladies' pages," and wished to be taught his duties. Laura concisely told him "to wear buttons," whereat he was very indignant, repudiating the idea of being other than "a page of the olden time."

Mrs. Wellwood, who had been speaking to me of Merton Brown, here remarked: "I think the most perfect impersonation of a page of the olden time I can remember, was to be found in Arden Mainwaring when he returned from the continent seven years ago. He could not have been much over fourteen, but appeared older than he was; rather, I think, from a certain courtly bearing than from any diminution of the simplicity of mind or gaiety of heart we look for at that age. He was the most beautiful youth I ever saw.

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Did she suspect anything in regard to Helen? I fancy so.

Helen was taken by surprise by this sudden mention of her Mr. Mainwaring. A flush came over her face. I think Mrs Wellwood noticed

it.

"I wonder how he gets on with Lord St. George," said Mr. Littington; "and whether he and his lady cousin will marry after all. They are together at Vienna, I understand. I can't make those young people out."

Mrs. Wellwood spoke.

"Merton Brown assures me the engagement is off; and I think, from all I have observed, that Arden Mainwaring has outgrown what was indeed at commencement a very romantic boyish attachment. They are not calculated for each other."

"I don't understand people outgrowing their affections," said Laura. "I call it fickleness. People talk of Lady Althea being a coquette, perhaps all the time she has been driven to it. I think Mr. Mainwaring has a great deal to answer for, I hate, of all things, male coquets !" I was not sorry for an interruption to this

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66

'No; I don't know him, but he is coming this way. He sees us."

All were in doubt until he was in front of our group; then we recognized Mr. Alfred Merrivale, in a new suit of clothes, which certainly tended to give him an improved appearance.

He raised his hat to the company, and Mr. Littington bade him welcome in a very kind and friendly manner, enjoining him to take a place among us. I made a gesture for him to sit beside me, and he came up and shook hands, replying to Mr. Littington. "I will do anything you bid me sir, if you will only presently spare me a few minutes of your time."

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"Certainly, certainly," Mr. Littington answered. Only you see neither of us can be spared just now, with all these ladies to attend upon.'

Perhaps the apparition of Alfred Merrivale reminded Laura she might have been too vehement in her defence of Lady Althea. Her manner became quieter, and she evidently desired, by more special attentions to myself, to erase any impression I might have taken of her having been unduly combative.

Mr. Littington endeavoured to incite us to be musical, and his sister setting a good example, other ladies were encouraged to raise their voices.

I noticed much change for the better in Alfred's appearance besides that I have already mentioned. There was revived spirit in his aspect. As an observer, at least, he shared in our gaiety with apparent satisfaction; but at intervals he seemed abstracted-even anxious, and I began to consider whether the matter he wished to communicate might not be something apart from Mr. Littington's commission. While a general laugh was going round, I said apart, "Any news of Mr Witham ?"

He nodded, and in an undertone began, "I am seriously anxious, and must speak either to you-"

Mrs. Ainslie from the far side of our group here interrupted, "Mr. Merrivale, we hope, if you cannot sing, you will tell us a story. Do think of something."

The request appeared at first rather to embarrass, but the next minute, with sudden animation, Alfred spoke thus:

"I could indeed tell some sort of a story, but it must be very incomplete; and the whole matter, though strange, and to some here I know not without interest, is hardly romantic enough in character for the present occasion. Unless the facts are thought of sufficient importance to excuse me, others may think me tedious and egotistical."

Mrs. Ainslie declared she should like it all the

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