Englefield Grange Part 5

"Do not hesitate, Mrs. St. Clair," exclaimed Edward, whose pride had been roused by her words; "I know I am asking Miss Maria St. Clair to marry a tradesman, but I can offer her a home with more of the comforts, luxuries, and refinements than are often found among many persons who are far above me in rank."

His vehemence troubled Mrs. St. Clair; but after a few minutes'

reflection she said, "Mr. Armstrong, I am quite aware that in a money point of view your proposal for my daughter is worthy of consideration, but I cannot give my consent till I have consulted my relatives. Give me a few days to lay the matter before them, and to ascertain the sentiments of Maria, that is all I ask."

"Madam," said Edward Armstrong, rising, "if your dear daughter's wishes are duly considered in this matter, I have no fear as to the result. I will wait a week for your decision."

Mrs. St. Clair could scarcely restrain a smile at the self-appreciation displayed in this speech, but she shook hands pleasantly and promised that in less than a week he should hear from her. The result, however, of Mrs. St. Clair's application to her relatives was in every case but one favourable to Edward Armstrong. Her daughter Helen was ready to ignore everything about him, but that he was respectably connected, able to give Maria a superior home, and in himself handsome, well educated, well informed, and without doubt brave and courageous, for had he not saved her sister and her little son from death?

Colonel Elliot stood out strongly in favour of the man who had made himself so agreeable on that evening at Richmond; indeed all Mrs. St.

Clair's relatives who had heard the romantic story so well known in the Isle of Wight were on the side of Edward Armstrong--more especially when his increasing wealth was confirmed by men of business to whom he had referred Mrs. St. Clair.

Only from an old maiden aunt was the information received that "she must not be expected to a.s.sociate with people who kept a shop." Mrs. St.

Clair had very little trouble in discovering her daughter's real sentiments respecting Edward Armstrong, and Sir James Elston's opinions settled the matter. After hearing all the particulars respecting the man who had asked his wife's mother for her portionless daughter, the bluff old Admiral had remarked, "Ah, well, if Mrs. St. Clair marries her daughter to a respectable tradesman who can support her in comfort, instead of looking out for a sprig of n.o.bility without a s.h.i.+lling in his pocket, she will be a very wise woman."

Some little of Edward Armstrong's character showed itself before the wedding. Mrs. St. Clair wished her daughter to be married from Sir James Elston's house in Portland Place, and at a fas.h.i.+onable London church--but the bridegroom elect preferred the quiet of her own house, and the seclusion of Richmond.

Finding she could not succeed in having her own way with a gentleman possessing such a determined will, Mrs. St. Clair appealed to her daughter. But Maria, naturally gentle and yielding, was too anxious to agree with the wishes of her future husband to become an ally with her mother against him. So the gentleman had his way, and in the prettily situated old church, Maria St. Clair plighted her troth to the man who had been the means of saving her life.

In the heart of this young girl there was no doubt too much of the wors.h.i.+p of the instrument and too little recognition of the Hand to whose merciful Providence she owed her life. She had yet to learn that in times of sadness, trial, and death, "vain is the help of man" without the aid He alone can give. We shall find also as the story proceeds that Edward Armstrong was not so willing to give up his prejudices for the sake of his _own_ daughter, as he had been to oblige Mrs. St. Clair to give up hers when he wished to obtain Maria St. Clair as his wife.

CHAPTER V.

AT THE REVIEW.

"Miss Mary, dear, wake up," said a pleasant middle-aged woman, as she gently shook the sleeper to whom she spoke; "it wants twenty minutes to eight, and Rowland will be here with the ponies presently."

A pair of large blue eyes opened languidly and stared at the speaker.

"What's the matter, nurse?"

"Aren't you going to ride this morning, Miss Mary? you'll have to be quick if----"

But Mary's senses were roused now, and the young girl of thirteen sprung out of bed, interrupting her nurse's speech.

"I'll be ready, nurse, don't fear," she cried, as she began to dress with her usual quickness. "What did you say was the time?"

"Twenty minutes to eight," was the reply, "so you've twenty-five minutes. Rowland is allowed to wait five minutes, I know."

"Ah, yes," cried Mary, "but I wont keep him waiting at all, nurse," she added, "you need not stay. I laid out my habit and all I wanted in readiness last night."

"To be sure, Miss Mary, you can be quick, I know, and no mistake; so I'll get out of your way if you don't want me."

True to her word, the little lady appeared at the door in a few minutes after the groom arrived, and she was very soon cantering round the Regent's Park in the full enjoyment of this healthful exercise. Drawing rein as usual before crossing the New Road on her return towards home, she walked her pony through the Crescent, intending to enjoy a good canter up the broad thoroughfare of Portland Place.

Scarcely had she reached the turning leading through private streets to Piccadilly, when the sound of horse's hoofs coming rapidly behind her caused her to turn her head, and the next moment pull up suddenly as a large black horse trotted quickly to her side.

"Why, Mary," exclaimed the owner of the horse, "I had no idea you were such a capital rider. I saw a little lady cantering in front of me, but I should not have known who it was had not Rowland touched his hat as I pa.s.sed; and what a clever little pony," he added, as he stooped low to pat the smooth black head and long flowing mane. "How long have you had him?"

"Six months, uncle," she replied. "Papa bought him of Sir Henry Turner; his boys all learnt to ride on Boosey, but they have grown too old and too tall for such a small pony, so now he is mine."

"What is the pony's name, Mary? It sounds peculiar."

"Oh, Boosey, uncle," she replied, laughing. "Sir Henry's boys named him after Alexander's horse Bucephalus; the groom shortened it to Boosey, and we still keep up the name."

"So he is a cla.s.sical pony, eh?" said Colonel Herbert; "I suppose the name was too much of a jaw-breaker for the stablemen. Boosey, however, is rather a degradation for the bearer of such a t.i.tle."

"He's a military pony, too," laughed Mary, "for he can stand fire, uncle. One morning the soldiers were at drill and firing in the Park as I rode past, and Boosey walked by as quietly as possible. I did feel half afraid till I remembered that Sir Henry was a field-officer and his sons were often with him at reviews, one of them always riding the pony."

"Well, then, my dear, if Boosey is so well trained, would you like to go with me to-day? There is to be a review at Hyde Park, and you can be with me near the flagstaff--opposite the firing, you know. Are you sure you have no fear?"

"Not a bit, uncle, and indeed I should like it so much if papa will allow me to go."

"Suppose we ride home and ask him."

The horses had been walking while they talked, and the colonel putting his horse into a trot as he spoke, Boosey started off at full speed, cantering as fast as his little legs would carry him to keep pace with the colonel's tall black horse.

They reached Dover Street in a very short time, and Mr. Armstrong, seeing them approach, came out to welcome the colonel. The request for Mary was soon made, yet she almost feared that the answer would be unfavourable when her father said,--"Mary had not breakfasted yet, colonel; and you know I object to my daughter being seen on horseback in the neighbourhood of my business after nine o'clock."

"Then let her ride home now to our house and breakfast with us," said the colonel, quickly.

To this there appeared no objection, and Mr. Armstrong readily gave his consent, but Mary had not forgotten her mother's fears.

"Oh, father," she exclaimed, "do you think mamma will mind my going? you know how anxious she always is even when I ride quietly before breakfast."

Mr. Armstrong was about to say that his wife was not likely to oppose his wishes, when the colonel exclaimed,--"I will go up and quiet her fears about Mary's safety."

He was not absent many minutes, but as he remounted his horse Mary knew he had succeeded, for on looking up she saw her mother at the window nodding and smiling at her as she rode off with her uncle.

Rowland, who remained behind, stood for a few moments watching his young mistress as she and her uncle rode towards Piccadilly. Then as he turned to take his horse to the stables he said to himself,--"Master wont get his way with that young lady, I can see, with all his queer rules about what she is to do."

Mary breakfasted with her aunt and uncle in Park Lane, and in less than an hour after started to be present at the review. She certainly felt a little nervous at first when she found herself among a group of officers and ladies on horseback, or in carriages near the flagstaff, especially when the soldiers were preparing for the first volley.

But Boosey stood firm, and that gave her courage to sit and calmly watch the varied performances of the men so easily seen from such an advantageous point of view.

Many questions were asked the colonel respecting the little equestrian, who looked very attractive in her riding attire. The long curls falling to the waist over the dark blue riding-habit would have been called golden in these days; and a black beaver hat, with a drooping feather and a broad brim, did not quite conceal the fair complexion and delicate features of the really pretty child. When asked, "Who is your little friend?" the colonel would merely reply, "My niece." No mention was made of her name, or of the fact of her being a tradesman's daughter, for in those days of exclusiveness it would have created a feeling of surprise.

More than fourteen years have pa.s.sed since Edward Armstrong became the husband of the young girl who owed her life to his energy and courage.

A marriage under such circ.u.mstances was not unlikely to be accompanied with real affection on both sides, although a union of those who occupy different positions socially is seldom truly happy.

Notwithstanding the love that made Edward Armstrong gentle and indulgent to his wife, there yet existed certain phases in his character which jarred upon her love of refinement, and caused her great annoyance. His eccentricities, his prejudices, and, at times when angry, a certain coa.r.s.eness of manner, were actual pain to his sensitive wife. But she possessed a natural sweetness of temper that could "turn away wrath" by a "soft answer" or silence. She had quickly discovered that his will was law, and brooked no contradiction; and her love of peace as well as her wifely love very soon taught her to give way to her husband in every point.

Besides, she had all the comforts and luxuries of a refined home, equal in many respects to the homes of her sisters, although considered so inferior in position; a loving and indulgent husband, and four children, of whom Mary was the eldest and only girl.

Her relatives had not cast her off because of her marriage; the occasion of their first meeting, when Edward Armstrong had been the means of saving their sister's life, rendered such an idea impossible. Added to this, Maria's husband was unmistakably a man of intellectual tastes as well as education, notwithstanding his eccentricities and peculiar notions. a.s.sociation with his wife, and mixing in the society he sometimes met with at the houses of her sisters, had already increased his refinement of manner, although nothing could as yet entirely overcome the effects of narrow minded prejudices.