Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles Part 120

"MY DARLING MOTHER,--I am made a barrister at last. I really am; and I beg you will all receive the announcement with appropriate awe and deference. I was called to-day: and I intend to have a photograph taken of myself in my wig and gown, and send it down to you as a confirmation of the fact. When you see the guy the wig makes of me, you will say you never saw an ugly man before. Tell Dobbs so; it will gladden her heart: don't you remember how she used to a.s.sure us, when boys, that we ought to be put under a gla.s.s case, as three ultra specimens of ugliness?

"I shall get on now, dearest mother. It may be a little up-hill work at first: but there's no fear. A first-rate law firm has promised me some briefs: and one of these speedy days I shall inevitably take the ears of some court by storm--the jury struck into themselves with the learned counsel's astounding eloquence, and the bar dumb--and then my fortune's made. I need not tell you what circuit I shall patronize, or in how short a time afterwards I intend to be leading it: but I will tell you that my first object in life, when I am up in the world, shall be the ease and comfort of my dear mother. William is not going to do everything, and have you all to himself.

"Talking about William, ask him if he cannot get up some chance litigation, that I may have the honour of appearing for him next a.s.sizes. I'll do it all free, _gratis_, for nothing. Ever your own son,

"FRANK."

Jane started up from her chair at the news, almost as a glad child. Who could she find to share it with her? She ran into the next house to Patience. Patience limped a little in her walk still; she would limp always. Anna, in her sober Quaker's cap, the border resting on her fair forehead, looked up from her drawing, and Jane told them the news, and read the letter.

"That is nice," said Patience. "It must be a weight off thy mind."

"I don't know that it is that," replied Jane. "I have never doubted his success. I don't doubt it still. But I am very glad."

"I wish I had a cause to try," cried Anna, who had recovered all her old spirits and her love of chatter. "I would let Frank plead it for me."

"Will you come back with me, Anna, and take tea?" said Jane. "I shall be alone this evening. William is going over to Deoffam Hall."

"I'll come," replied Anna, beginning to put up her pencils with alacrity. Truth to say, she was just as fond of going out and of taking off her cap, that her curls might fall, as she used to be. She had quite recovered caste in the opinion of Helstonleigh. In fact, when the reaction set in, Helstonleigh had been rather demonstrative in its expression of repentance for having taken so harsh a view of the case.

Nevertheless, it had been a real lesson to Anna, and had rendered her more sober and cautious in conduct.

Dobbs was standing at the kitchen door as they went in. "Dobbs," said Jane, in the gladness of her heart, "Mr. Frank is called."

"Called?" responded Dobbs, staring with all her might.

"Yes. He was called yesterday."

"Him called!" repeated Dobbs, evidently doubting the fact. "Then, ma'am you'll excuse me, but I'm not a-going to believe it. It's a deal more likely he's gone off t'other way, than that he's called to grace."

Anna nearly choked with laughter. Jane laughed so that she could not at once speak. "Oh, Dobbs, I don't mean that sort of calling. He is called to the Bar. He has become a barrister."

"Oh--that," said Dobbs ungraciously. "Much good may it do him, ma'am!"

"He wears a wig and gown now, Dobbs," put in Anna. "He says his mother is to tell thee that it makes a guy of him, and so gladden thy heart."

"Ugh!" grunted Dobbs.

"We will make him put them on when he comes down, won't we! Dobbs, if thee'd like his picture in them, he'll send it thee."

"He'd better keep it," retorted Dobbs. "I never yet saw no good in young chaps having their picturs took, Miss Anna. They're vain enough without that. Called! That would have been a new flight for _him_."

CHAPTER XIX.

A GLIMPSE OF A BLISSFUL DREAM.

A prettier place than Deoffam Hall could not well be conceived. "For its size," carping people would add. Well, it was not so large as Windsor Castle; but it was no smaller than the bishop's palace at Helstonleigh--if it has been your good fortune to see that renowned edifice. Deoffam Hall was a white, moderate-sized, modern villa, rising in the midst of charming grounds; gra.s.sy lawns smooth as velvet, winding rivulets, groves of trees affording shelter on a summer's day. On the terrace before the windows a stately peac.o.c.k was fond of spreading its plumes, and in the small park--it was only a small one--the deer rubbed their antlers on the fine old trees. The deer and the peac.o.c.k were the especial pets of Henry Ashley. Deoffam itself was an insignificant village; a few gentlemen's houses and a good many cottages comprised it.

It was pleasantly and conveniently situated; within a walk of Helstonleigh for those who liked walking, or within a short drive. But, desirable as it was as a residence, Henry Ashley was rather addicted to grumbling at it. He would often wish himself back in his old home.

One lovely morning in early summer, when they were a.s.sembled together discussing plans for the day, he suddenly broke into one of his grumbling humours. "You bought Deoffam for me, sir," he was beginning, "but----"

"I bought it for myself and your mother," interposed Mr. Ashley.

"Of course. But to descend to me afterwards--you know what I mean. I have made up my mind, when that time shall come, to send grat.i.tude to the winds, and sell it. Stuck out here, alone with the peac.o.c.k, you and the mother gone, I should----I don't like to outrage your feelings by saying what I might do."

"There's Mary," said Mrs. Ashley.

"Mary! I expect she'll have gone into fresh quarters by that time. She has only stopped here so long out of politeness to me."

Mary lifted her eyes, a smile and a glow on her bright face. A lovely picture, she, in her delicate summer muslin dress.

"I tell every one she is devoted to me," went on Henry, in his quaint fas.h.i.+on. "'Very strange that handsome girl, Mary Ashley, does not get married!' cries Helstonleigh. Mary, my dear, I know your vanity is already as great as it can be, so I don't fear to increase it. 'My sister get married!' I say to them. 'Not she; she has resolved to make a n.o.ble sacrifice of herself for my sake, and live at home with me, a vestal virgin, and see to the puddings.'"

The smile left Mary's face--the glow remained. "I do wish you would not talk nonsense, Henry! As if Helstonleigh troubled itself to make remarks upon me. It is not so rude as you are."

"Just hark at her!" returned Henry. "Helstonleigh not trouble itself to make remarks! When you know the town was up in arms when you refused Sir Harry Marr, and sent him packing. Such an honour had never fallen to its luck before--that one of its fair citizens, born and bred, should have the chance of becoming a real live My Lady."

Mary was cutting a pencil at the moment, and broke the point off.

"Papa," cried she, turning her hot face to his, "can't you make Henry talk sense?--if he must talk at all."

Mrs. Ashley interposed. It was quite true that Mary had had, as Henry phrased it, a chance of becoming a "real live My Lady"; and there lurked in Mrs. Ashley's heart a shadow of grievance, of disappointment, that she should have refused the honour. She spoke rather sharply, taking Henry's part, not Mary's.

"Henry is talking nothing but sense. My opinion is that you behaved quite rudely to Sir Harry. It is an offer you will not have again, Mary.

Still," added Mrs. Ashley, subduing her tone a little, "it is no business of Helstonleigh's; neither do I see whence the town could have derived its knowledge."

"As if any news could be stirring, good or bad, that Helstonleigh does not ferret its way to!" returned Henry.

"My belief is that Henry went and told," retorted Mary.

"I! what next?" cried Henry. "As if I should tell of the graceless doings of my sister; it is bad enough to lie under the weighty knowledge one's self."

"And as if I should ever consent to marry Sir Harry Marr!" returned Mary, with a touch of her brother's spirit.

"Mary," said Mr. Ashley, quietly, "you seemed to slip out of that business, and of all questioning over it, as smoothly as an eel. I never came to the bottom of it. What was your objection to Sir Harry?"

"Objection, papa?" she faltered, with a crimsoned face. "I--I did not care for him."

"Oh, that was it, was it?" returned Mr. Ashley.

"Is it always to go on so, my dear?" asked her mother.

Poor Mary was in sad confusion, scarcely knowing whether to burst into anger or into tears. "What do you mean, mamma? How 'go on'?"

"This rejection of every one. You have had three good offers----"