Christian's Mistake Part 13

His wife was deeply touched, so much so that she almost felt sorry for Aunt Henrietta, she would have given much to bring a little brightness, a little kindness, into that worn, restless, unhappy face, true reflection of the nature which itself created its own unhappiness, as well as that of all connected with it. She said, almost humbly,

"You are very good! I never had a piano of my own before. And I hope Miss Gascoigne will enjoy it as much as I shall myself."

The soft, answer--never wasted upon fiercest wrath--threw a little oil upon Miss Gascoigne's. She spoke no more, but she resolutely turned her back upon the offending instrument. Christian struck a few chords, just to please her husband, and came away.

It was an uncomfortable tea-party--not nearly so merry as Arthur's first.

After it, the boy wearily curled up on the sofa to sleep, and his father glanced round in search of his best friend--the big book.

Stop a minute, Dr. Grey; before you retire to your study, as you always seem to do whenever all your family happen to be met socially together, I have to ask you about that invitation to St. Mary's Lodge which came this morning.''

Dr. Grey paused, and listened to a long explanation, ending in the decision (to which Christian pa.s.sively submitted, for what must be done had best be done quickly) that he and his bride should make their long-delayed public appearance in Avonsbridge society at an evening party shortly to be given by the Master of St. Mary's.

"It is a musical party," explained Miss Gascoigne, when, Dr. Grey having quitted the room, Christian, for want of something to converse about, began to make a few polite inquiries concerning it. "So you have got your piano just in time, and may practice all day long, to be ready for your performance. Of course you will be asked to perform, since every body knows about your father and his musical genius. By- the-by, I met lately a gentleman who said he knew Mr. Oakley, and was exceedingly surprised--at which I must confess I scarcely wondered-- when he heard who it was that my brother-in-law had married."

"Oh, Henrietta!" pleaded poor Aunt Maria, with her most troubled look.

But it was too late. Even Christian--quiet as her temper was, and strong her resolution to keep peace, at any price which cost n.o.body any thing excepting herself--was roused at last.

"Miss Gascoigne," she said, and her eyes blazed and her whole figure dilated, "when your brother married me, he did it of his own free choice. He loved me. Whatever I was, he loved me. And whatever I may be now, I at least know his dignity and my own too well to submit to be spoken to, or spoken of, in this manner. It is not of the slightest moment to me who among your acquaintances criticises myself or my marriage, only I beg to be spared the information afterward. For my father"--she gulped down a great agony, a sorrow darker than that of death--"he was my father. You had better be silent concerning him."

Miss Gascoigne was silent--for a few minutes. Perhaps she was a little startled, almost frightened--many a torturer is a great coward--by the sight of that white face, its every feature trembling with righteous indignation or, perhaps, some touch of nature in the hard woman's heart pleaded against this unwomanly persecution of one who bad never injured her. But she could not hold her peace for long.

"There is no need to be violent, Mrs. Grey. It would be a sad thing, indeed, Maria, if your brother had married a violent-tempered woman."

"I am not that. Why do you make it seem so?" said Christian, still trembling. And then, her courage breaking down under a cruel sense of wrong. "Why can not you see that I am weak and worn out, longing for a little peace, and I can not get it? I never did you any harm--it is not my fault that you hate me. Why will you hunt me down and wear my life out, while I hear it all alone, and have never told my husband one single word? It is cruel of you--cruel."

She sobbed, till Arthur's sudden waking up--he had been fast asleep on the sofa, or she might not have given way so much--compelled her to restrain herself.

Miss Gascoigne was moved--at least as much as was in her nature to be. She said hastily, "There--there--we will say no more about it;" took up her work, and busied herself therewith.

For Aunt Maria, she did as she had been doing throughout the contest-- the only thing Aunt Maria ever had strength to do--she remained neutral and pa.s.sive--cried and knitted--knitted and cried.

So sat together these three women--as good women in their way, who meant well, and might have lived to be a comfort to one another. Yet, as it was, they only seemed to live for one another's mutual annoyance, irritation, and pain.

A thunder-storm sometimes clears the air; and the pa.s.sion of resistance into which Christian had been goaded apparently cooled the family atmosphere for a few days. But she herself felt only a dead-weight--a heavy chill--which lay on her heart long after the storm was spent.

For the "gentleman" and his rude remark--if indeed he had made it, which she more than doubted, aware how Miss Gascoigne, like all people who can only see things from the stand-point of their own individuality, was somewhat given to exaggeration--Christian heeded him not. The world might talk as it chose; she knew her husband loved her, and that he had married her for love.

And her boy loved her too, and needed her sorely, as he would need for many a long day yet. It would take a whole year, Dr. Anstruther said, before the injury to the lung was quite recovered, and all fear of Arthur's falling into continued ill health removed.

Thus duties, sweet as strong, kept continually weaving themselves about her once forlorn life; binding her fast, it is true, but in such pleasant bonds that she never wished them broken. Every day she grew safer and happier and every day, as she looked on Dr. Grey's kind, good face, which familiarity was making almost beautiful, she felt thankful that--whether she loved it or only liked it--she should have it beside her all her days.

Chapter 7.

_"And do the hours slip fast or slow, And are ye sad or gay?

And is your heart with your liege lord, lady, Or is it far away?_

_"The lady raised her calm, proud head, Though her tears fell one by one: 'Life counts not hours by joys or pangs, But just by duties done._

_"And when I lie in the green kirk-yard, With the mould upon my breast, Say not that "She did well or ill,"

Only, "She did her best."'"_

A day or two after this, Christian, returning from her daily walk, which was now brief enough, and never beyond the college precincts, met a strange face at the Lodge door--that is, a face not exactly strange; she seemed to have seen it before, but could not recollect how or where.

Then she recalled it as that of a young daily governess, her predecessor at the Fergusons', who had left them "to better herself," as she said--and decidedly to the bettering of her pupils.

Miss Susan Bennett--as Christian had soon discovered, both pupils and parents being very loquacious on the subject--was one of those governesses whom one meets in hopeless numbers among the middle- cla.s.s families--girls, daughters of clerks or petty shopkeepers, above domestic service, and ashamed or afraid of any other occupation, which, indeed, is only too difficult to be found, whereby half-educated or not particularly clever young women may earn their bread. They therefore take to teaching as "genteel," and as being rather an elevation than not from the cla.s.s in which they were born. Obliged to work, though they would probably rather be idle, they consider governessing the easiest kind of work, and use it only as a means to an end which, if they have pretty faces and tolerable manners, is--human nature being weak, and life only too hard, poor girls!--most probably matrimony.

But governesses, pursuing their calling on this principle, are the dead- weight which drags down their whole cla.s.s. Half educated, lazy, unconscientious, with neither the working faculty of a common servant, nor the tastes and feelings of a lady, they do harm wherever they go; they neither win respect nor deserve it; and the best thing that could befall them would be to be swept down, by hundreds, a step lower in the scale of society--made to use their hands instead of their heads, or, at any rate, to learn themselves instead of attempting to teach others.

Christian--who, though chiefly self-taught, except in music, was a well- educated woman, and a most conscientious teacher--had been caused a world of trouble in undoing what her predecessor had done; and in the few times that the little Fergusons had met in the street their former instructress, who was a very good-looking and showy girl, she had not been too favorably impressed with Miss Bennett. But when she saw her coming out of the Lodge door, rather shabbier than beforetime, the March wind whistling through her thin, tawdry shawl, and making her pretty face look pinched and blue, Mrs. Grey, contrasting the comforts of her own life with that of the poor governess, felt compa.s.sionately towards her so much so, that, though wondering what could possibly be her business at the Lodge, she a.s.sumed the mistress's kindly part, and bowed to her in pa.s.sing which Miss Bennett was in too great a hurry either to notice or return.

"Has that lady been calling here?" she asked of Phillis, whom she met bringing in Oliver from his afternoon walk.

"Lady!" repeated Phillis, scornfully, "she's only the governess."

"The governess!"

"Lor! didn't you know it, ma'am? And she coming to Miss Let.i.tia every day for this week past!" and Phillis gleamed all over with malicious satisfaction that her mistress did not know it, and might naturally feel annoyed and offended thereat.

Annoyed Mrs. Grey certainly was, but she was not readily offended.

Her feeling was more that of extreme vexation at the introduction here of the very last person whom she would desire to see Let.i.tia's governess, and a vague wonder as to how much Dr. Grey knew about the matter. Of course, engrossed as she was with the charge of Arthur, it was quite possible that, to save her trouble, he and his sisters might have arranged it all. Only she wished she had been told--merely told about it.

Any little pain, however, died out when, on entering the drawing-room, she caught the warm delight of Arthur's eyes, turning to her as eagerly as if she had been absent from him a week instead of half an hour.

"Oh, mother, I am so tired! Here have I been lying on this sofa, and t.i.tia and somebody else--a great, big, red-checked woman--t.i.tia says she isn't a lady, and I must not call her so--have been strum-strumming on your pretty piano, and laughing and whispering between whiles.

They bother me so. Please don't let them come again."

Christian promised to try and modify things a little.

But she must come and practice here, Arthur. She is Miss Bennett-- t.i.tia's governess.

"Governess--a nice governess! Why, she hardly teaches her a bit.

They were chattering the whole time; and I heard them plan to meet in Walnut-tree Court at five o'clock every evening, and go for a walk with a gentleman--a kind gentleman, who would give t.i.tia as many sweet things as ever she could eat."

Mrs. Grey stood aghast. This was the sort of thing that had gone on--or would have gone on if not discovered--with the little Fergusons.

"Are you sure of this, Arthur? If so, I must ring for Phillis at once."

"Oh don't--please don't. Phillis will on'y fly into a pa.s.sion and beat her--poor t.i.tia! I'm very sorry I told of her. I wouldn't be a sneak if I could help it."

"My dear boy!" said Christian, fondly. "Well, I will not speak about it just yet, and certainly not to Phillis. Lie here till I see if t.i.tia is still in the nursery. It is just five o'clock."

Yes, there the little damsel was, sitting as prim as possible over a book, looking the picture of industry and innocence.