No Jupiter, rainy or thunderous, lent his assistance to account for the
extraordinary phenomenon of Rhoda Maxfield's driving up to the
garden-gate of Ivy Lodge instead of arriving there on foot. On the
contrary, it was a fine autumn evening, with a serene sky where the
sunset tints still lingered.
Rhoda alighted hurriedly from the carriage, and walked up the few feet
of gravel path, between the garden fence and the house, with a beating
heart. "You can go away now, Sally," she said, being very anxious to
dismiss the "Blue Bell" equipage before the door should be opened. But
Sally was not in such a hurry. Her master had told her that she was to
wait and see Miss Rhoda safe into the house, and then she might come
back in the carriage as far as the "Blue Bell." And Sally was not averse
to have her new promotion to the dignity of "riding in a coach"
witnessed by Mrs. Algernon Errington's Polly, with whom she had a slight
acquaintance. So Miss Maxfield's equipage was seen by the servant who
opened the door, and stared at from the front parlour window by two
pairs of eyes, belonging respectively to Miss Chubb and Mrs. Errington.
"You can go into the parlour, miss," said Polly. "Master and missis are
still at dinner. But the old lady's in there and Miss Chubb."
That they should be still at dinner, at half-past six o'clock in the
evening, seemed a strange circumstance to Rhoda, and was one that she
had not reckoned on. But she supposed it was according to the customs of
the high folks Mrs. Algernon had been used to live among. The innovation
was not accepted so meekly by most of the Whitfordians, whom, indeed, it
seemed to irritate in a greater degree than more serious offences. But
it is true of most of us, that we are never more angry than when we are
unable to explain the reasons for our anger.
"I am afraid I'm too early," said Rhoda, when she had entered the
parlour and greeted her old friends, "but father said he thought it was
the right time to come."
"Mr. and Mrs. Ancram Errington dine late, my dear. Castalia has not yet
got broken of the habits of her own class, as I have had to be. Indeed,
she will probably never need to relinquish them. But it is no matter,
Rhoda. You can make yourself comfortable here with us for half an hour
or so. Miss Chubb called in to see me at my place, and I brought her
down here with me. I knew Mrs. Ancram Errington would be happy to see
her if she dropped in in an informal way."
"I never can get used to the name of Ancram instead of Algernon," said
the spinster, raising her round red face from her woolwork. "It isn't
half so pretty. Nine times out of ten I call your son 'Algy' plump and
plain. I'm very sorry if it's improper, but I can't help it."
Mrs. Errington smiled with an air of lofty toleration. "Not at all
improper," she said. "Algernon is the last creature in the world to be
distant towards an old friend. But as to the name of Ancram, why it was,
from the first, his appellation among the Seelys. And Castalia always
calls him so. You see 'Ancram' was a familiar name in the circles she
lived in; like Howard, or Seymour, or any of the great old family names,
you know. It came naturally to her."
"Well, I should think that one's husband's Christian-name would come
natural to one, even if it were only plain Tom, Dick, or Harry."
"He didn't begin by being her husband, my dear!"
Rhoda had nestled herself down in a corner behind a small table, and was
turning over an album and one or two illustrated annuals. She hoped that
the discussion as to Algernon's name would effectually divert the
attention of the two elder ladies from the unprecedented fact that she
had been brought to Ivy Lodge in a carriage. But she was not to be let
off altogether. Miss Chubb, folding up her work, declared that it was
growing too dark to distinguish the colours, and observed, "I was
standing by the window to catch the last daylight, when you drove up,
Rhoda. I couldn't think who it was arriving in such style."
"That was the 'Blue Bell' fly you were in, Rhoda," said Mrs. Errington.
"I believe it to be the same vehicle that my daughter-in-law uses
occasionally. She complains of it sadly. But I tell her she cannot
expect to find her Aunt Seely's luxurious, well-hung carriages in a
little provincial place like this."
Miss Chubb was about to make what she considered a severe retort, but
she stifled it down. Mrs. Errington's airs were very provoking, to be
sure; but there were reasons why Miss Chubb was more inclined to bear
with her now than formerly. If it pleased this widowed mother to soften
her disappointments about Algy's career and Algy's wife (it began to be
considered in Whitford that both would prove to be failures!) by an
extra flourish or two, why should any one put her----"No!" said Miss
Chubb to herself, as the question was half-framed in her mind, "that is
not the right word, certainly. I defy the world to put Mrs. Errington
out of conceit with herself! But why should one snub and snap at the
poor woman?"
Indeed, Miss Chubb never snapped, and rarely attempted to snub. She had
a fund of benevolence hidden under a heap of frothy vanities and
absurdities, like the solid cake at the bottom of a trifle.
"Well," said she, smiling good-temperedly, "I'm sure Rhoda doesn't
quarrel with the 'Blue Bell' fly, do you, Rhoda?"
"I shouldn't have wished to use it, myself, but father said, 'It is
rather a long way,' and father thought----"
"Oh, my dear, there is no need to excuse yourself, or to look shy on the
subject. We should all of us be glad enough of a coach to ride in, now
and then, if we could afford it. I'm sure I should, and I don't mind
saying so."
Mrs. Errington did not approve of the coach quite so unreservedly. She
observed, with some solemnity, that she was no friend to extravagance;
and that, above all things, persons ought to guard against ostentation,
or a thrusting of themselves into positions unsuited to that station in
life to which it had pleased Providence to call them. And, in
conclusion, she announced her intention of availing herself of the
circumstance that Rhoda had a carriage at her disposal for the evening,
to drive back with her as far as Mrs. Thimbleby's door--"which," said
she, "is only a street and a half away from your house, Rhoda; and it
will not make any difference to your father in point of expense."
Castalia found her three guests chatting in the twilight; or rather she
found Mrs. Errington holding forth in her rich pleasant voice, whilst
the others listened, and threw in a word or two now and then, just
sufficient to show that they were attending to the good lady's harangue.
In Rhoda's case, indeed, this appearance of attention was fallacious,
for, although she said "Yes," and "No," and "Indeed!" at due intervals,
her thoughts were wandering back to old days, which seemed suddenly to
have receded into a far-distant past.
Castalia shook hands languidly with Miss Chubb and condescendingly with
Rhoda. "I'm very glad you've come," she said to the latter, which was a
speech of unusual warmth for her. And it had the merit, moreover, of
being true. Castalia was not given to falsehood in her speech. She was
too supercilious to care much what impression she made on people in
general; and if they bored her, she took no pains to conceal the fact.
Weariness of spirit and discontent had begun to assail her once more.
They were old enemies. Her marriage had banished them for a time; but
they gathered again, like clouds which a transient gleam of wintry
sunshine has temporarily dispersed, and shadowed her life with an
increasing gloom. This young Rhoda Maxfield offered some chance of
brightness and novelty. She was certainly different from the rest of the
Whitford world, and the pursuit of her society had been beset with some
little difficulties that gave it zest.
A lamp was brought into the room, and then Castalia sat down beside
Rhoda, unceremoniously leaving the other ladies to entertain each other
as best they might. She examined her guest's dress; the quality of the
lace frill at her throat; the arrangement of her chestnut curls; the
delicate little gold chain that shone upon the pearl-grey gown; the
neatly-embroidered letters R. M. worked on a corner of the handkerchief
that lay in her lap, with as much unreserve and coolness as though Rhoda
had been some daintily-furred rabbit, or any other pet animal. On her
part, Rhoda took cognisance of every detail in Castalia's appearance,
attire, and manner; she marked every inflection of her voice, and every
turn of her haughty, languid head. And, perhaps, her scrutiny was the
keener and more complete of the two, notwithstanding that it was made
with timidly-veiled eyes and downcast head.
"What an odd man your father is!" said the Honourable Mrs. Ancram
Errington, by way of opening the conversation.
Rhoda found it impossible to reply to this observation. She coloured,
and twisted her gold chain round her fingers, and was silent. But it did
not seem that Mrs. Ancram Errington expected, or wished for a reply. She
went on with scarcely a pause: "I thought at first he would refuse to
let you come here. But he gave his consent at last. I was quite amused
with his odd way of doing it, though. He must be quite a 'character.'
He's very rich, isn't he?"
"I don't know, ma'am," stammered Rhoda.
"Well, he says so himself; or, at least, he informed me that you were,
or would be, which comes to the same thing. And don't call me 'ma'am.'
It makes me feel a hundred years old. You and I must be great friends."
"Where is Algernon?" asked Mrs. Errington from the other side of the
room.
"He will come presently, when he has finished his wine. Do you know we
found that stuff from the 'Blue Bell,' that you recommended us to try,
quite undrinkable! Ancram was obliged to get Jack Price to send him
down a case of claret, from his own wine-merchant in town."
"Most extraordinary!" exclaimed Mrs. Errington, and began to
recapitulate all the occasions on which the wine supplied to her from
the "Blue Bell" inn had been pronounced excellent by the first
connoisseurs. But Castalia made small pretence of listening to or
believing her statements. Indeed, I am sorry to say that obstinate
incredulity was this young woman's habitual tone of mind with regard to
almost every word that her mother-in-law uttered; whereby the Honourable
Mrs. Castalia occasionally fell into mistakes.
"Could you not try Dr. Bodkin's wine-merchant?" suggested Miss Chubb. "I
am no judge myself, but I feel sure that the doctor would not put bad
wine on his table."
"Oh, I don't know. I don't suppose there is any first-rate wine to be
got in this place. Ancram prefers dealing with the London man."
And then Castalia dismissed the subject with an expressive shrug. "Who
are your chief friends here?" she asked of Rhoda, who had sat with her
eyes fixed on a smart illustrated volume, scarcely seeing it, and
feeling a confused sort of pain and mortification, at the tone in which
the younger Mrs. Errington treated the elder.
"My chief friends?"
"Yes; you must know a great many people. You have lived here all your
life, have you not?"
"Yes; but--father never cared that I should make many acquaintances out
of doors."
"You were Methodists, were you not? I remember Ancram telling me of the
psalm-singing that used to go on downstairs. He can imitate it
wonderfully. Do tell me about how you lived, and what you did! I never
knew any Methodists, nor any people who kept a shop."
The naive curiosity with which this was said might have moved some minds
to mirth, and others to indignation. In Rhoda it produced only confusion
and distress, and such an access of shyness as made her for a few
moments literally dumb. She murmured at length some unintelligible
sentences, of which "I'm sure I don't know" were the only words that
Castalia could make out. She did not on this account desist from her
inquiries, but threw them into the more particular form of a catechism,
as, "Were you let to read anything except the Bible on Sundays?" "I
suppose you never went to a ball in your life?" "How did you learn to do
your own hair?" "Do the Methodist preachers really rant and shriek as
much as people say?"
Algernon, coming quietly into the room, beheld his wife and Rhoda seated
side by side on a sofa behind the little Pembroke table, and engaged,
apparently, in confidential conversation. They were so near together,
and Castalia was bending down so low to hear Rhoda's faintly-uttered
answers, as to give an air of intimacy to the group.
He lingered in the doorway looking at them, until Miss Chubb crying,
"Oh, there you are, sir!" called the attention of the others to him,
when he advanced and shook hands with Rhoda, whose fingers were icy cold
as he touched them with his warm, white, exquisitely-cared-for hand.
Then he bent to kiss his mother, and seated himself between her and his
old friend Miss Chubb, in a low chair, stretching out his legs, and
leaning back his head, as he contemplated the neatly-shod feet that were
carelessly crossed in front of him.
"You did not expect to see Rhoda, did you, my dear boy?" said Mrs.
Errington.
"Yes; I believe Castalia said something about having asked her. It is a
new freak of Castalia's. I think she had better have left it alone. The
old man is highly impracticable, and is just one of those persons whom
it is prudent to keep at arm's length."
"I think so, too!" assented Mrs. Errington, emphatically. "Indeed, I
almost wonder at his letting his daughter come here."
Algernon quite wondered at it. But he said nothing.
"Of course," pursued Mrs. Errington, "letting her come to me is a very
different matter."
"Why?" asked Miss Chubb, bluntly.
"Because, my dear, the girl herself is so devotedly attached to me that
I believe she would fret herself into an illness if she were forbidden
to see me occasionally. And I believe old Maxfield is fond of his child,
in his way, and would not wish to grieve her. But, of course, Rhoda can
have no particular desire to visit Castalia. Indeed, I have offered to
bring her more than once, and she has not availed herself of the
opportunity."
"Old Max is ambitious for his daughter, they say," observed Miss Chubb,
"and likes to get her into genteel company. Perhaps he thinks she will
find a husband out of her own sphere. I'm told that old Max is quite
rich, and that she will have all his money. But I think Rhoda is pretty
enough to get well married, even without a fortune."
Then, when Mrs. Errington moved away to speak to her daughter-in-law,
Miss Chubb whispered slily to Algernon, "You were a little bit smitten
with our pretty Rhoda, once upon a time, sir, weren't you? Oh, it's no
use your protesting and looking so unconscious! La, dear me; well, it
was very natural! Calf-love, of course. But I'll tell you, between you
and me, who is smitten with her, and pretty seriously too--and that's
Mr. Diamond!"
"Diamond!"
"Well, you needn't look so astonished. He's a young man, for all his
grave ways, and she is a pretty girl. And, upon my word, I think it
might do capitally."
"You look tired, Algernon," said Mrs. Errington to her son a little
later in the evening. It must have been a very marked expression of
fatigue which could have attracted the good lady's attention in any
other human being.
"Oh, I've been bored and worried at that confounded post-office."
"What a shame!" cried Mrs. Errington. "Positively some representation
ought to be made to Government about it."
"Oh, it's disgusting!" said Castalia, with a shrug of her lean
shoulders, and in the fretful drawl, which conveyed the idea that she
would be actively angry if any sublunary matters could be important
enough to overcome her habitual languor.
"I don't remember hearing that Mr. Cooper found the work so hard," said
Miss Chubb, innocently. Mr. Cooper had been the Whitford postmaster next
before Algernon.
"It isn't the work, Miss Chubb," said Algernon, a little ashamed of the
amount of sympathy and compassion his words had evoked. "That is to
say, it is not the quantity of the work, but the kind of it, that bores
one. Cooper, I believe, was a steady, jog-trot old fellow, who did his
daily task like a horse in a mill. But I can't take to it so
comfortably. It is as if you, with your taste for elegant needlework,
were set to hem dusters all day long!" Algernon laughed, in his old,
frank way, as he made the comparison.
"Well, I shouldn't like that, certainly. But, after all, dusters are
very useful things. And then, you see, I do the fancy work to amuse
myself; but I should be paid for the dusters, and that makes a
difference!"
"Paid!" screamed Castalia. "Why, you don't imagine that Ancram's
twopenny salary can pay him! Good gracious, it seems to me scarcely
enough to buy food with. It's quite horrible to think how poor we are!"
"Come," said Algernon, "I don't think this conversation is particularly
lively or entertaining. Suppose we change the subject. There is
Rho--Miss Maxfield looking as if she expected to see us all expire of
inanition on the spot!"
And, in truth, Rhoda was gazing from one to the other with a pale,
distressed face, and a look of surprise and compassion in her soft brown
eyes.
Mrs. Errington did not approve of her daughter-in-law's unscrupulous
confession of poverty. Castalia lacked the Ancram gift of embellishing
disadvantageous circumstances. And the elder lady took occasion to
remark to Miss Chubb that everything was comparative; and that means
which might appear ample to persons of inferior rank were very trivial
and inadequate in the eyes of the Honourable Mrs. Ancram Errington. "She
has been her uncle's pet for many years. My lord denied her nothing. And
I needn't tell you, my dear Miss Chubb, that the emoluments of
Algernon's official post are by no means the whole and sole income of
our young couple here. There are private resources"--here Mrs. Errington
waved her hands majestically, as though to indicate the ample nature of
the resources--"which, to many persons, would seem positive affluence.
But Castalia's measure is a high one. I scold her sometimes, I assure
you. 'My dear child,' I say to her, 'look at me! Bred amidst the feudal
splendours of Ancram Park, I have accommodated myself to very different
scenes and very different associates;' for, of course, my dear soul,
although I have a great regard for my Whitford friends, and am very
sensible of their kind feelings for me, yet, as a mere matter of fact,
it would be absurd to pretend that the society I now move in is equal,
in point of rank, to that which surrounded my girlish years. And then
Castalia's perhaps partial estimate of her husband's talents (you know
she has witnessed the impression they made in the most brilliant circles
of the Metropolis) makes her impatient of his present position. For
myself, feeling sure, as I do, that this post-office business is merely
temporary, I can look at matters with more philosophy."
"Ouf!" panted Miss Chubb, and began to fan herself with her
pocket-handkerchief.
"Anything the matter, Miss Chubb?" asked Algernon, raising his eyebrows
and looking at her with a smile.
"Nothing particular, Algy. I find it a little oppressive, that's all."
"This little room is so stuffy with more than two or three people in
it!" said Castalia.
"I'll do my part towards making it less stuffy," said Miss Chubb,
jumping up, and beginning to shake hands all round. "I daresay my old
Martha is there. I told her to come for me at nine o'clock. Oh, never
mind, thank you," in answer to Castalia's suggestion that she should
stay and have a cup of coffee, which would be brought in presently.
"Never mind the coffee. I have no doubt I shall find a bit of supper
ready at home." And with that she departed.
"I hope it wasn't too severe, that hit about the supper," said the good
little woman to herself as she trotted homeward, accompanied by the
faithful Martha. "But really--offering one a cup of coffee at nine
o'clock at night! And as to Mrs. Errington, I am sorry for her, and can
make allowances for her: but she did so go beyond all bounds to-night
that, if I had not come away when I did, I think I should have choked."
"Is the little woman affronted at anything?" asked Algernon of his wife,
when Miss Chubb's footsteps had ceased to be heard pattering down the
gravel path outside the house.
"Eh? What little woman? Oh, the Chubb? No; I don't know. I suppose not."
"No, no; not at all," said Mrs. Errington, decisively. "But you know her
ways of old. She has no _savoir faire_. A good little creature, poor
soul! Oh, by-the-way, Castalia, you know the patterns for autumn mantles
you asked me to look at? Well, I went into Ravell and Sarsnet's
yesterday, and they told me----" And then the worthy matron and her
daughter-in-law entered into an earnest discussion in an undertone; the
common interest in autumn mantles supplying that "touch of nature" which
made them kin more effectually than the matrimonial alliance that united
their families.
"I'm afraid you must have had a very dull evening," said the master of
the house, looking down on Rhoda as he stood near her, leaning with his
back against the tiny mantel-shelf.
"No, thank you."
"I'm afraid you must! There was no amusement for you at all."
"My evenings are not generally very amusing. I daresay you, who have
been accustomed to such different things, would find them very dull."
This was not the humble, simple, childlike Rhoda whom he had parted from
two years ago. It was not that she had now no humility or simplicity,
but the humility was mingled with dignity, the simplicity with an easier
grace. Rhoda was more self-possessed at this moment than she had been
all the evening before. The weakest creatures are not without some means
of self-defence; and, if she be but pure-hearted, the most inexperienced
girl in the world can put on an armour of maiden pride over her hurt
feelings that has been known to puzzle even very intelligent individuals
of the opposite sex; and has perhaps given rise to one or two of the
numerous impassioned complaints that have been uttered from time to time
as to the inscrutable duplicity of women. In like manner if a man scalds
his finger, or gets a bullet in his flesh, he endeavours to bear the
pain without screaming.
So little Rhoda Maxfield sat there with a placid face, talking to her
old love, turning over the leaves of a picture-book, and scarcely
looking at him as she talked.
Now, if Algernon had been consulted beforehand as to what line of
conduct he would wish Rhoda to adopt when they should meet, he would,
doubtless, have said, "Let us meet pleasantly and frankly as old
friends, and behave as if all our old love-making had been the mere
amusement of our childhood!" And yet, somehow, it a little disconcerted
him to see her so calm.
"You--don't you--don't you go out much in the evening?" he said, feeling
(to his own surprise) considerably at a loss what to say.
"Go out much in the evening? No, indeed; where should I go to?" Rhoda
actually gave a little laugh as she answered him.
"Oh, I thought my mother mentioned that you were a good deal at the
Bodkins."
"Yes; I go to see Miss Minnie sometimes. They are all very good to me."
"And my mother says, too, that you are growing quite a blue-stocking!
You have lessons in French, and music, and I don't know what besides."
"Father can afford to have me taught now, and so I have begun to learn a
few of the things that girls are taught when they are little children,
if they happen to be the children of gentlefolks," answered Rhoda, with
considerable spirit.
"I'm sure there is no reason why you should not learn them."
"I hope not. But, of course, I am clumsy, and shall never succeed so
well as if I had begun earlier. I am getting very old, you know!"
"Oh, very old, indeed! Your birthday, I remember, falls----" he checked
himself with a sudden recollection of the last birthday he had spent
with Rhoda, and of the bunch of late roses he had been at the pains to
procure for her on that occasion from the gardener at Pudcombe Hall.
And, on the whole, he felt positively relieved when Slater came to
announce, with her chronic air of resentful gentility, that "Miss
Maxfield's young woman was waiting for her in the hall."
"And are you off too, mother?" he asked.
"Yes, my dear Algernon. I am going to drive home with Rhoda."
"Drive! Oh, so you are indulging in the extravagance of a fly, madam! I
am glad of it, though you did give me a lecture on the subject of
economy only last week!"
"You know that I always do, and always did, disapprove of extravagance,
Algernon. A genteel economy is compatible with the highest breeding.
But--the fact is, that Rhoda has a coach to go home in, and I'm about to
take advantage of it."
There was something in the situation which Algernon felt to be
embarrassing, as he gave his arm to his mother to lead her to the
carriage. But Mrs. Errington had at least one quality of a great
lady--she was not easily disconcerted. She marched majestically down the
garden path, entered the vehicle which old Max's money was to pay for,
with an air of proprietorship, and invited Rhoda to take her place
beside her with a most condescending wave of the hand.
"You must come again soon," Castalia had said to her new acquaintance
when they bade each other "Good night."
But Algernon did not support his wife's invitation by a single word,
though he smiled very persistently as he stood bare-headed in the
moonlight, watching his mother and Rhoda drive away.