Heriot's Choice Part 22

'Here is Miss Trelawny, sitting under her favourite tree; you had better go to her, Aunt Milly, while I find some one to take the mare;' and as Mildred obeyed, Miss Trelawny laid down her book, and greeted her with greater cordiality than she had shown on the previous visit.

'Papa is somewhere about the grounds; you can find him,' she said when Richard came up to them, and as he departed somewhat reluctantly, she led Mildred to a shady corner of the lawn, where some basket-chairs, and a round table strewn with work and books, made up a scene of rustic comfort.

The blue curling smoke rose from the distant town into the clear afternoon air, the sun shone on the old church tower, the hills lay in soft violet shadow.

'I hope you admire our view?' asked Miss Trelawny, with her full, steady glance at Mildred; and again Mildred noticed the peculiar softness, as well as brilliancy, of her eyes. 'I think it is even more beautiful than that which you see from the vicarage windows. Mr. Lambert and I have often had a dispute on that subject.'

'But you have not the river--that gives such a charm to ours. I would not exchange those s.n.a.t.c.hes of silvery brightness for your greater distances. What happiness beautiful scenery affords! hopeless misery seems quite incompatible with those ranges of softly-tinted hills.'

A pensive--almost a melancholy--look crossed Miss Trelawny's face.

'The worst of it is, that our moods and Nature's do not always harmonise; sometimes the suns.h.i.+ne has a chilling brightness when we are not exactly attuned to it. One must be really susceptible--in fact, an artist--if one could find happiness in the mere circ.u.mstance of living in a beautiful district like ours.'

'I hope you do not undervalue your privileges,' returned Mildred, smiling.

'No, I am never weary of expatiating on them; but all the same, one asks a little more of life.'

'In what way?'

'In every possible way,' arching her brows, with a sort of impatience. 'What do rational human beings generally require?--work--fellows.h.i.+p--possible sympathy.'

'All of which are to be had for the asking. Nay, my dear Miss Trelawny,'

as Ethel's slight shrug of the shoulders testified her dissent, 'where human beings are more or less congregated, there can be no lack of these.'

'They may possibly differ in the meaning we attach to our words. I am not speaking of the labour market, which is already glutted.'

'Nor I.'

'The question is,' continued the young philosopher, wearily, 'of what possible use are nine-tenths of the unmarried women? half of them marry to escape from the unbearable routine and vacuum of their lives.'

Ethel spoke with such mournful candour, that Mildred's first feeling of astonishment changed into pity--so young and yet so cynical--and with such marginal wastes of unfulfilled purpose.

'When there is so much trouble and faultiness in the world,' she answered, 'there must be surely work enough to satisfy the most hungry nature. Have you not heard it a.s.serted, Miss Trelawny, that nature abhors a vacuum?'

To her surprise, a shade crossed Miss Trelawny's face.

'You talk so like our village Mentor, that I could almost fancy I were listening to him. Are there no duties but the seven corporal works of mercy, Miss Lambert? Is the intellect to play no part in the bitter comedy of women's lives?'

'You would prefer tragedy?' questioned Mildred, with a slight twitching of the corner of her mouth. It was too absurdly incongruous to hear this girl, radiant with health, and glorying in her youth, speaking of the bitter comedy of life. Mildred began to accuse her in her own mind of unreal sentiment, and the vaporous utterings of girlish spleen; but Ethel's intense earnestness disarmed her of this suspicion.

'I have no respect for the people; they are utterly brutish and incapable of elevation. I am horrifying you, Miss Lambert, but indeed I am not speaking without proof. At one time I took great interest in the parish, and used to hold mothers' meetings--pleasant evenings for the women. I used to give them tea, and let them bring their needlework, on condition they listened to my reading. Mr. Lambert approved of my plan; he only stipulated that as I was so very young--in age, I suppose, he meant--that Miss Prissy Ortolan should a.s.sist me.'

'And it was an excellent idea,' returned Mildred, warmly.

'Yes, but it proved an utter failure,' sighed Ethel. 'The women liked the tea, and I believe they got through a great deal of needlework, only Miss Prissy saw after that; but they cared no more for the reading than Minto would,' stooping down to pat the head of a large black retriever that lay at her feet. 'I had planned a course of progressive instruction, that should combine information with amus.e.m.e.nt; but I found they preferred their own gossip. I asked one woman, who looked more intelligent than the others, how she had liked Jean Ingelow's beautiful poem, "Two Brothers and a Sermon," which I had thought simple enough to suit even their comprehensions, and she replied, "Eh, it was fine drowsy stuff, and would rock off half-a-dozen crying babies."'

Mildred smiled.

'I gave it up after that. I believe Miss Tabitha and Miss Prissy manage it. They read little tracts to them, and the women do not talk half so much; but it's very disheartening to think one's theory had failed.'

'You soared a little beyond them, you see.'

'I suppose so; but I thought their life was prosaic enough; but here comes my father and Richard. I see they have Dr. Heriot with them.'

Ethel spoke quietly, but Mildred thought there was a slight change in her manner, which became less animated.

Dr. Heriot looked both surprised and pleased when he saw Mildred; he placed himself beside her, and listened with great interest to the account of their afternoon's drive. On this occasion, Mildred's quiet fluency did not desert her.

Mr. Trelawny was less stiff and ceremonious in his own house; he insisted, with old-fas.h.i.+oned politeness, that they should remain for some refreshment, and he himself conducted Mildred to the top of the tower, from which there was an extensive view.

On their return, they found a charming little tea-table set out under the trees; and Ethel, in her white gown, with pink May blossoms in her hair, was crossing the lawn with Richard. Dr. Heriot was still lounging complacently in his basket-chair.

Ethel made a charming hostess; but she spoke very little to any one but Richard, who hovered near her, with a happy boyish-looking face. Mildred had never seen him to such advantage; he looked years younger, when the grave restraint of his manners relaxed a little; and she was struck by the unusual softness of his dark eyes. In his best moods, Richard was undoubtedly attractive in the presence of elder men. He showed a modest deference to their opinions, and at the same time displayed such intelligence, that Mildred felt secretly proud of him. He was evidently a great favourite with Mr. Trelawny and his daughter. Ethel constantly appealed to him, and the squire scolded him for coming so seldom.

The hour was a pleasant one, and Mildred thoroughly enjoyed it. Just as they were dispersing, and the pony-carriage was coming round, Dr. Heriot approached Ethel.

'Well, have you been to see poor Jessie?' he asked, a little anxiously.

Miss Trelawny shook her head.

'You know I never promised,' she returned, as though trying to defend herself.

'I never think it fair to extort promises--people's better moods so rapidly pa.s.s away. If you remember, I only advised you to do so. I thought it would do you both good.'

'You need not rank us in the same category,' she returned, proudly; 'you are such a leveller of cla.s.ses, Dr. Heriot.'

'Forgive me, but when you reach Jessie's standard of excellence, I would willingly do so. Jessie is a living proof of my theory--that we are all equal--and the education and refinement on which you lay such stress are only advent.i.tious adjuncts to our circ.u.mstances. In one sense--we are old friends, Miss Trelawny; and I may speak plainly, I know--I consider Jessie greatly your superior.'

A quick sensitive colour rose to Ethel's face. They were walking through the shrubbery; and for a moment she turned her long neck aside, as though to hide her pained look; but she answered, calmly--

'We differ so completely in our estimates of things; I am quite aware how high I stand in Dr. Heriot's opinion.'

'Are you sure of that?' answering her with the sort of amused gentleness with which one would censure a child. 'I am apt to keep my thoughts to myself, and am not quite so easy to read as you are, Miss Trelawny. So you will not go and see my favourite Jessie?' with a persuasive smile.

'No,' she said, colouring high; 'I am not in the mood for it.'

'Then we will say no more about it; and my remedy has failed.' But though he talked pleasantly to her for the remainder of the way, Mildred noticed he had his grave look, and that Ethel failed to rally her spirits.

CHAPTER X

THE RUSH-BEARING

'Heigho! daises and b.u.t.tercups, Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall, A suns.h.i.+ny world full of laughter and leisure, And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall!

Send down on their pleasure smiles pa.s.sing its measure, G.o.d that is over us all.'--Jean Ingelow.