The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax Part 18

CHAPTER XIX.

_NEIGHBORS TO ABBOTSMEAD._

Some recent duties of Mrs. Betts's service had given her, on occasion, an authoritative manner, and she was impelled to use it when she witnessed the forlornness of her young lady. "I am surprised that you should give way, miss," said she. "In the middle of the day, too, when callers are always liable, and your dear, good grandpapa expects a smiling face! To make your eyes as red as a ferret--"

"Indeed, they are not!" cried Bessie, and rose and ran to the looking-gla.s.s.

Mrs. Betts smiled at the effect of her tactics, and persevered: "Let me see, miss: because if it is plain you have been fretting, you had better make an excuse and stop up stairs. But the master will be vexed." Bessie turned and submitted her countenance to inspection. "There was never a complexion yet that was improved by fretting," was the waiting-woman's severe insinuation. "You must wait five minutes, and let the air from the window blow on you. Really, miss, you are too old to cry."

Bessie offered no rejoinder; she was ashamed. The imperative necessity of controlling the tender emotions had been sternly inculcated by Madame Fournier. "Now shall I do?" she humbly asked, feeling the temperature of her cheeks with her cool hands.

Mrs. Betts judiciously hesitated, then, speaking in a milder voice, said, "Yes--perhaps it would not be noticed. But tears was the very mischief for eyes--_that_ Miss Fairfax might take her word for. And it was old Lady Angleby and her niece, one of the Miss Burleighs, who were down stairs."

Bessie blushed consciously, appealed to the looking-gla.s.s again, adjusted her mind to her duty, and descended to the octagon parlor. The rose was no worse for the shower. Mr. Fairfax was there, standing with his back to the fireplace, and lending his ears to an argument that was being slowly enunciated by the n.o.ble matron who filled his chair. A younger lady, yet not very young, who was seated languidly with her back to the light, acknowledged Bessie's entrance with a smile that invited her approach. "I think," she said, "you know my brother Cecil?" and so they were introduced.

For several minutes yet Lady Angleby's eloquence oozed on (her theme was female emanc.i.p.ation), the squire listening with an inscrutable countenance. "Now, I hope you feel convinced," was her triumphant conclusion. Mr. Fairfax did not say whether he was convinced or not. He seemed to observe that Elizabeth had come in, and begged to present his granddaughter to her ladys.h.i.+p. Elizabeth made her pretty curtsey, and was received with condescension, and felt, on a sudden, a most unmannerly inclination to laugh, which she dissembled under a girlish animation and alacrity in talk. The squire was pleased that she manifested none of the stupid shyness of new young-ladyhood, though in the presence of one of the most formidable of county magnates. Elizabeth did not know that Lady Angleby was formidable, but she saw that she was immense, and her sense of humor was stirred by the instant perception that her self-consequence was as enormous as her bulk. But Miss Burleigh experienced a thrill of alarm. The possibility of being made fun of by a little simple girl had never suggested itself to the mind of her august relative, but there was always the risk that her native shrewdness might wake up some day from the long torpor induced by the homage paid to her rank, and discover the humiliating fact that she was not always imposing. By good luck for Miss Fairfax's favor with her, Pascal's maxim recurred to her memory--that though it is not necessary to respect grand people it is necessary to bow to them--and her temptation to be merry at Lady Angleby's expense was instantly controlled. Miss Burleigh could not but make a note of her sarcastic humor as a decidedly objectionable, and even dangerous, trait in the young lady's character. That she dissembled it so admirably was, however, to her credit. After his first movement of satisfaction the squire was himself perplexed. Elizabeth's spirits were lively and capricious, she was joyous-tempered, but she would not dare to quiz; he must be mistaken. In fact, she had not yet acquired the suppressed manner and deferential tone to her betters which are the perpetuation of that ancient rule of etiquette by which inferiors are guarded against affecting to be equal in talk with the mighty. Mr.

Fairfax proposed rather abruptly to go in to luncheon. Jonquil had announced it five minutes ago.

"She is beautiful! _beautiful_! I am charmed. We shall have her with us--a beautiful young woman would popularize our cause beyond anything.

But how would Cecil approve of that?" whispered Lady Angleby as she toiled into the adjoining room with the help of her host's arm.

"Mr. Cecil Burleigh is wise and prudent. He will know how to temporize with the vagaries of his womankind," said the squire. But he was highly gratified by the complimentary appreciation of his granddaughter.

"Vagaries, indeed! The surest signs of sound and healthy progress that have shown themselves in this generation."

Lady Angleby mounted her hobby. She was that queer modern development, a democrat skin-deep, born and bred in feudal state, clothed in purple and fine linen, faring sumptuously every day, and devoted colloquially to the regeneration of the middle cla.s.ses. The lower cla.s.ses might now be trusted to take care of themselves (with the help of the government and the philanthropists), but such large discovery was being made of frivolity, ignorance, and helplessness amongst the young women of the great intermediate body of the people that Lady Angleby and a few select friends had determined, looking for the blessing of Providence on their endeavors, to take them under their patronage.

"It is," she said, "a most hopeful thing to see the discontent that is stirring amongst young women in this age, because an essential preliminary to their improvement is the conviction that they have the capacity for a freer, n.o.bler life than that to which they are bound by obsolete domestic traditions. Let us put within the reach of every young girl an education that shall really develop her character and her faculties. Why should the education of girls be arrested at eighteen, and the apprentices.h.i.+p of their brothers be continued to one-and-twenty?" This query was launched into the air, but Lady Angleby's prominent blue eyes seemed to appeal to Bessie, who was visibly dismayed at the personal nature of the suggestion.

Mr. Fairfax smiled and bade her speak, and then laughing, she said, "Because at eighteen girls tire of grammar and dictionaries and precepts for the conduct of life. We are women, and want to try life itself."

"And what do you know to fit you for life?" said Lady Angleby firmly.

"Nothing, except by instinct and precept."

"Exactly so. And where is your experience? You have none. Girls plunge into life at eighteen dest.i.tute of experience--weak, foolish, ignorant of men and themselves. No wonder the world is enc.u.mbered with so many helpless poor creatures as it is."

"I should not like to live with only girls till one-and-twenty. What experience could we teach each other?" said Bessie, rather at sea. A notion flashed across her that Lady Angleby might be talking nonsense, but as her grandfather seemed to listen with deference, she could not be sure.

"Girls ought to be trained in logic, geometry, and physical science to harden their mental fibre; and how can they be so trained if their education is to cease at eighteen?" Then with a modest tribute to her own undeveloped capacities, the great lady cried, "Oh, what I might have done if I had enjoyed the advantages I claim for others!"

"You don't know. You have never yet been thrown on your own resources,"

said Bessie with an air of infinite suggestion.

Lady Angleby stared in cold astonishment, but Bessie preserved her gay self-possession. Lady Angleby's cold stare was to most persons utterly confusing. Miss Burleigh, an inattentive listener (perhaps because her state of being was always that of a pa.s.sive listener), gently observed that she had no idea what any of them would do if they were thrown on their own resources.

"No idea is ever expected from you, Mary," said her aunt, and turned her stony regard upon the poor lady, causing her to collapse with a silent s.h.i.+ver. Bessie felt indignant. What was this towering old woman, with her theory of feminine freedom and practice of feminine tyranny? There was a momentary hush, and then Lady Angleby with pompous complacency resumed, addressing the squire:

"Our large scheme cannot be carried into effect without the general concurrence of the cla.s.ses we propose to benefit, but our pet plan for proving to what women may be raised demands the concurrence of only a few influential persons. I am sanguine that the government will yield to our representations, and make us a grant for the foundation of a college to be devoted to their higher education. We ask for twenty thousand pounds."

"I hope the government will have more wit," Mr. Fairfax exclaimed, his rallying tone taking the sting out of his words. "The private hobbies of you n.o.ble ladies must be supported out of your private purses, at the expense of more selfish whims."

"There is nothing so unjust as prejudice, unless it be jealousy,"

exclaimed Lady Angleby with delicious unreason. "You would keep women in subjection."

Mr. Fairfax laughed, and a.s.sented to the proposition. "You clamor for the high education of a few at the cost of the many; is that fair?" he continued. "High education is a luxury for those who can afford it--a rich endowment for the small minority who have the power of mind to acquire it; and no more to be provided for that small minority out of the national exchequer than silk attire for our conspicuous beauties."

"I shall never convert you into an advocate for the elevation of the s.e.x. You sustain the old cry--the inferiority of woman's intellect."

"'The earth giveth much mould whereof earthen vessels are made, but little dust that gold cometh of.' High education exists already for the wealthy, and commercial enterprise will increase the means of it as the demand increases. If you see a grain of gold in the dust of common life, and likely to be lost there, rescue it for the crucible, but most such grains of gold find out the way to refine themselves. As for gilding the earthen pots, I take leave to think that it would be labor wasted--that they are, in fact, more serviceable without ornament, plain, well-baked clay. Help those who are helpless and protect those who are weak as much as you please, but don't vex the strong and capable with idle interference. Leave the middle cla.s.ses to supply their wants in their own way--they know them best, and have gumption enough--and stick we to the ancient custom of providing for the sick and needy."

"The ancient custom is good, and is not neglected, but the modern fas.h.i.+on is better."

"That I contest. There is more alloy of vanity and busy-bodyism in modern philanthropy than savor of charity."

"We shall never agree," cried Lady Angleby with mock despair. "Miss Fairfax, this is the way with us--your grandfather and I never meet but we fall out."

"You are not much in earnest," said Bessie. Terrible child! she had set down this great lady as a great sham.

"To live in the world and to be absolutely truthful is very difficult, is all but impossible," remarked Miss Burleigh with a mild sententiousness that sounded irrelevant, but came probably in the natural sequence of her unspoken thoughts.

"When you utter maxims like your famous progenitor you should give us his nod too, Mary," said her aunt. Then she suddenly inquired of Mr.

Fairfax, "When do you expect Cecil?"

"Next week. He must address the electors at Norminster on Thursday. I hope he will arrive here on Tuesday."

Lady Angleby looked full in Bessie's face, which was instantly overspread by a haughty blush. Miss Burleigh looked anywhere else. And both drew the same conclusion--that the young lady's imagination was all on fire, and that her heart would not be slow to yield and melt in the combustion. The next move was back to the octagon parlor. The young people walked to the open window; the elders had communications to exchange that might or might not concern them, but which they were not invited to hear. They leant on the sill and talked low. Miss Burleigh began the conversation by remarking that Miss Fairfax must find Abbotsmead very strange, being but just escaped from school.

"It is strange, but one grows used to any place very soon," Bessie answered.

"You have no companion, and Mr. Fairfax sets his face against duennas.

What shall you do next week?"

"What I am bid," said Bessie laconically. "My grandfather has bespoken for me the good offices of Mrs. Stokes as guide to the choice of a blue bonnet; the paramount duty of my life at present seems to be to conform myself to the political views of Mr. Cecil Burleigh in the color of my ribbons. I have great pleasure in doing so, for blue is my color, and suits me."

Miss Burleigh had a good heart, and let Bessie's little bravado pa.s.s.

"Are you interested in the coming election? I cannot think of anything else. My brother's career may almost be said to depend on his success."

"Then I hope he will win."

"Your kind good wishes should help him. You will come and stay at Brentwood?"

"Brentwood? what is Brentwood?"

"My aunt's house. It is only two miles out of Norminster. My aunt was so impatient to see you that she refused to wait one day. Cecil will often be with us, for my father's house is at Carisfort--too far off."

"I am at my grandfather's commands. I have not a friend here. I know no one, and have even to find out the ways and manners of my new world. Do you live at Brentwood?"