The Haunted Room Part 15

"I have not had much success, but still I can tell Bruce that I have made a beginning, that I have broken the ice," thought Emmie. "That woman was civil enough; I should not have much minded going into the cottage had I chanced to find her alone."

As Emmie's brothers were, as usual, pa.s.sing the day at S----, Mr. Trevor was his daughter's only companion at luncheon. The master of Myst Court was a pleasant, kindly-looking man, who had reached the shady side of fifty, but with a form yet unbent and hair but lightly touched with gray. He had been from youth a steady hard-working man, and Bruce had probably derived his habits of business from his father's example. But with Mr. Trevor the wheel of labour had hitherto run in one groove, or rather, one may say, on a tramway made smooth by habit. It had been as natural to Mr. Trevor to go to his office, as it had been to partake of his breakfast. The complete change in his mode of life caused by the removal to Wilts.h.i.+re, was like the jarring caused by turning suddenly off the tramway into a stone-paved road. Mr. Trevor had not been trained to perform the duties of a landlord and country squire, and he more than suspected that what he might have gained in dignity of position he had lost in comfort. Now as he sat at table in the lofty dining-room of his stately mansion, Mr. Trevor's brow wore an expression of worry which Emmie had never seen upon it when the family had resided in Summer Villa.

"You look tired, dear papa," she observed.

"I have had a good deal to annoy me, Emmie," said her father, who was making very slow progress indeed with his plateful of beef, tough and not much more than warmed through. "I find that Farmer Vesey has been taking, in a most unscrupulous manner, a slice off my west field which borders upon his lands. The steward says that I shall have to go to law about it. I detest going to law! Why are not boundaries clearly marked!

Then I've had endless complaints from the people whose cottages border the brook below Bullen's dye-works; they say that the dye kills all the fish, and makes the water unfit for drinking. Really the complaints have good foundation. I walked down to-day to the place, and saw that the water is so discoloured that I would not let a dog slake his thirst in a stream so polluted."

"And are the cottagers your tenants, papa?"

"Yes; so it is my business to defend their rights," observed Mr. Trevor.

"I went at once to Bullen, hoping that we might come to some satisfactory arrangement, without having recourse to the lawyers."

"And I hope that you found the manufacturer open to reason?" said Emmie.

"I found him to be a low, vulgar, money-making man, who would not care if he dyed all the rivers in England scarlet and blue, so that he could fish his profits out of them. I have heard that Bullen gives infidel lectures in S----, so that he tries to poison the springs of knowledge as well as the waters of the brook."

"What a dreadful man!" exclaimed Emmie.

"I shall have to go to law with him," observed Mr. Trevor, with a yet more troubled look; "I cannot let my tenants be poisoned, and yet I hate the worry and expense of a suit. I shall wait a while, and see if this fellow Bullen will not come to terms. Then I've had another annoying thing brought to my notice this morning: it is certain that there is poaching on my estate. There has been no proper care taken to preserve the game during the time of my predecessor, and if matters go on in the same way, pheasants will be as rare here as black swans. Really the cheapest and easiest way to get game is from a London market!"

The same reflection had just occurred to Emmie. Joe, in his noisy way, now entered the room, and told Miss Trevor, with awkward bluntness, that a woman was asking to see her.

"What is her name?" inquired Emmie.

"She didn't give none, miss," said Joe; "but she has brought a lot of children with her."

"Miss Trevor is engaged; desire the woman to wait a little," said the master of Myst Court.

Joe went out, banging the door behind him, but in less than three minutes returned.

"There be two other women come to see you, miss," said he. "One says as you told her to call."

"I bade no one call," said Emmie. "I am sorry, papa, that you should be thus disturbed at your meal."

"I had better myself see what is the cause of this irruption of the Goths and Vandals," observed Mr. Trevor, rising from his seat, and then quitting the room. Mr. Trevor had scarcely more experience than his daughter in dealing personally with the poor, but he felt heavy upon his conscience the responsibility belonging to the owner of landed property.

Mr. Trevor in a short time returned, looking grave and somewhat perplexed. "How one misses clergy, and district visitors, and organized societies in a place like this!" he exclaimed, as he resumed his seat at the table. "All these women declare that they are in want, that their husbands are out of work; and how am I to tell whether this be or be not the fact? I have given each of the beggars a trifle, and told them not to come here again, that we will make inquiries about them. I cannot have my door thus besieged. I wonder what brought on us this sudden invasion!"

"I'm afraid that it was my unlucky half-crown," observed Emmie.

"To whom did you give a half-crown?" asked her father.

"I gave it at the first cottage to the left of the gate, beyond Harper's wretched little den," replied Emmie. She read something very unlike approbation in the eyes of her parent, and shrank from their questioning gaze.

"What! you gave it at the cottage of Blunt, the man who earns higher wages than almost any one else in the place!" cried Mr. Trevor, slightly raising his voice.

"The cottage did not look _very_ comfortable," said Emmie in an apologetic tone. She felt that the excuse was scarcely sincere, for the comfort or discomfort of the abode had had little to do with her giving the money.

"Of course the cottage is not comfortable, for the man Blunt is notoriously given to drinking," said Mr. Trevor, "and doubtless your half-crown is already turned into gin. You must really exert your common sense in visiting my tenants, my dear child," he continued in a tone of vexation, "or you will do incalculable mischief where you intend to do good."

It was so strange a thing to Emmie to receive anything like reproof from her tender indulgent parent, that her eyes glistened with tears of distress and mortification. Mr. Trevor could not bear to give her pain, and instantly softened his tone to that of kindness.

"You had the best intentions, my darling, and we shall all in time understand our new duties better. But you must be a little more careful in future where you visit, and how you give alms. I wish that instead of Blunt's cottage you had taken the one to the right of the gate. A poor respectable widow lives there; if I recollect rightly, her name is Brant. I have seen her several times at her cottage-door, looking tidy, but so poor and so ill that she has been rather upon my mind. It is not in my way to visit sick women, but I should like you to call with Susan, and ascertain whether the poor creature be really in want."

"Yes, papa, I will go," said Emmie humbly; "I will this afternoon visit the poor respectable widow, and try to keep my half-crowns in future for those who need and deserve them."

CHAPTER XVI.

TRY AGAIN.

Again Emmie, with her attendant, pa.s.sed through the gateway at the entrance to the grounds of Myst Court. Miss Trevor had scarcely done so ere she became uncomfortably conscious that her movements now attracted a good deal of attention amongst the inmates of the cottages near. A rabble of children, all dirty and some of them barefoot, cl.u.s.tered near the gate, and when the lady had pa.s.sed it, formed a kind of volunteer escort with which Emmie would have gladly dispensed. Some begged, and all stared at the lady; while two or three urchins, more impudent than the rest, pressed so closely upon her, that Susan could scarcely prevent them from impeding her mistress's progress. Emmie walked fast to rid herself of her unwelcome companions, but the children quickened their pace to keep up with the lady. Women stood at the entrances of their cottages, dropping courtesies, and evidently full of hope that the dispenser of half-crowns would visit their homes. Emmie was experimentally learning one of the most important of lessons for a district visitor, especially a rich one, that the worst way to begin is to give money without inquiry, merely to smooth our own way, and to buy that civility from the poor which is usually offered freely. The indiscriminating giver of alms, instead of improving the cla.s.s whom he visits, rouses their evil pa.s.sions. He makes the poor beggars, if he finds them not beggars already. Cupidity, jealousy, hypocrisy, these are the seeds which the careless, indolent almsgiver sows; and then, when he sees the harvest, he bitterly complains of the ingrat.i.tude which has requited his generous kindness. To help effectually those who require help, to sow a blessing and reap a blessing, we need to receive, we need to ask for the wisdom that cometh down from above.

"I wish that I had flung that unlucky half-crown into the brook, instead of throwing it away on those Blunts!" thought Emmie. "It was my nervous timidity that made me do so foolish a thing."

There was no difficulty in finding the cottage of Widow Brant; nor had Emmie even to knock, for the poor woman stood at her open door, only too glad to welcome the lady in. The widow was dressed neatly, but very poorly; her mourning was faded, and many a patch showed the work of industrious fingers. The inside of the cottage was so clean, that Emmie felt no reluctance to sit down on the chair which was offered to her, after a rapid dusting which it did not seem to require. Mrs. Brant was a small, thin, sickly-looking woman, with weak voice and timid manner; not even Emmie could possibly feel afraid of "breaking the ice" with one who excited no feeling but that of compa.s.sion. A good commencement was made; Emmie admired the flowers in the window, she herself was so fond of flowers; there was the point of similarity of taste on which the rich and poor could touch each other without undue familiarity on the one side, or sense of condescension on the other. The face of the widow brightened, and the young visitor felt encouraged. Miss Trevor went on to make inquiries regarding the widow's state of health, and listened with interest unfeigned to the story of long years pa.s.sed in weakness and pain. The patient endurance of the poor invalid interested and touched the heart of her hearer.

"But have you had no medical advice?" inquired Emmie.

"Years agone I'd the parish doctor, miss; but he didn't do me no good,"

replied the meek little widow. "But now I'm in hopes as I'll soon get better. There's a wonderful clever man as has come to this place; they says as he has been in Ireland, and he has sc.r.a.ped the dust off the tombstones of saints, and mixed it up with holy water, and when we've crossed his palm with a s.h.i.+lling, miss, he hangs a bag of the dust round our necks, and mutters a charm to wile away all our pains. See, miss,"

and the poor creature showed a small linen bag fastened round her neck by a morsel of string, "I gave my last s.h.i.+lling for this."

"And has it done you good?" asked Emmie, a little amused at the simplicity of the woman, and more than a little indignant at the advantage taken of it by some heartless impostor.

"I can't say as how I feels much better yet," replied the sufferer, "but I hopes as in time the charm will work a cure."

"It will never work anything but disappointment!" cried Miss Trevor; "the food which that s.h.i.+lling might have bought would have done more for your health than all the charms in the world made up by a superst.i.tious, ignorant quack!"

"Ignorant--superst.i.tious!" croaked out a voice at the slowly opening door, which made Emmie start to her feet in alarm. She knew the tones, and she knew the hard features and long grizzled hair of him who had crossed the threshold, and who now stood surveying her with a fixed malignant gaze. "Do you talk of _ignorance_, child," continued Harper, making a stride towards Emmie, who instantly backed as far as the narrow s.p.a.ce of the room would admit, "you who know not even the secrets of your own dwelling, nor dare to ask what things of darkness may haunt it!

_Superst.i.tion!_--if it be superst.i.tion to dread the unseen, to tremble before the unknown, is it for _you_ to talk of superst.i.tion in another?"

Emmie was too much terrified to attempt a reply. Her one desire was to quit the cottage directly, and she made a movement as if to do so; but Harper was between her and the door, and she did not dare to brush past him. Happily her attendant Susan was much more self-possessed than was her young mistress.

"Please to make way for my lady," said the maid with a decision of manner which caused Harper to draw a little to one side. Emmie did not even wait to wish the widow good-day; trembling like an aspen, the timid girl made her escape from the cottage, resolved never to run the risk of encountering Harper again, unless she were under the immediate protection of her father or Bruce.

Returning rapidly towards the entrance gate, like one who fears pursuit, Emmie, when almost close to it, came upon Mrs. Jessel, attired as before in black dress, with c.r.a.pe-flowers and bugles.

"Ah! Miss Trevor, good afternoon," said the late attendant on Mrs.

Myers, with the mixture of obsequiousness and forwardness which marked the manner of one long accustomed to flatter and fawn, but who felt herself to be now greatly raised in social position by having a house of her own. "How good you are to go visiting the cottages round!"

"I cannot visit in cottages," said poor Emmie with something like a gasp, as she pa.s.sed through the gateway and then stopped, as if she now felt herself safe.

"Ah! that's what my poor dear lady was always saying, Miss Trevor,"

observed Jael Jessel, who had followed her into the grounds. "Mrs. Myers was the kindest of creatures; but she was too nervous to visit her tenants. 'You go for me, Jessel,' was always her words; 'you know every one here, you know who is sick, and who has had twins, who wants soup, and who would like a hundred of coals. It is you that must visit for me.'"