FAMILY EXCITEMENT.
It would be impossible to describe, after that first beginning, the
pleasant interest and excitement kept up in this family concerning the
fortune of Agnes. All kinds of vague and delightful magnificences
floated in the minds of the two girls: guesses of prodigious sums of
money and unimaginable honours were constantly hazarded by Marian; and
Agnes, though she laughed at, and professed to disbelieve, these
splendid imaginations, was, beyond all controversy, greatly influenced
by them. The house held up its head, and began to dream of fame and
greatness. Even Mr Atheling, in a trance of exalted and exulting fancy,
went down self-absorbed through the busy moving streets, and scarcely
noticed the steady current of the Islingtonian public setting in strong
for the City. Even Mamma, going about her household business, had
something visionary in her eye; she saw a long way beyond to-day’s
little cares and difficulties--the grand distant lights of the future
streaming down on the fair heads of her two girls. It was not possible,
at least in the mother’s fancy, to separate these two who were so
closely united. No one in the house, indeed, could recognise Agnes
without Marian, or Marian without Agnes; and this new fortune belonged
to both.
And then there followed all those indefinite but glorious adjuncts
involved in this beginning of fate--society, friends, a class of people,
as those good dreamers supposed, more able to understand and appreciate
the simple and modest refinement of these young minds;--all the world
was to be moved by this one book--everybody was to render homage--all
society to be disturbed with eagerness. Mr Atheling adjured the family
not to raise their expectations too high, yet raised his own to the most
magnificent level of unlikely greatness. Mrs Atheling had generous
compunctions of mind as she looked at the ribbons already half faded.
Agnes now was in a very different position from her who made the
unthrifty purchase of a colour which would not bear the sun. Mamma held
a very solemn synod in her own mind, and was half resolved to buy new
ones upon her own responsibility. But then there was something shabby in
building upon an expectation which as yet was so indefinite. And we are
glad to say there was so much sobriety and good sense in the house of
the Athelings, despite their glorious anticipations, that the ribbons
of Agnes and Marian, though they began to fulfil Mrs Atheling’s
prediction, still steadily did their duty, and bade fair to last out
their appointed time.
This was a very pleasant time to the whole household. Their position,
their comfort, their external circumstances, were in no respect changed,
yet everything was brightened and radiant in an overflow of hope. There
was neither ill nor sickness nor sorrow to mar the enjoyment; everything
at this period was going well with them, to whom many a day and many a
year had gone full heavily. They were not aware themselves of their
present happiness; they were all looking eagerly forward, bent upon a
future which was to be so much superior to to-day, and none dreamed how
little pleasure was to be got out of the realisation, in comparison with
the delight they all took in the hope. They could afford so well to
laugh at all their homely difficulties--to make jokes upon Mamma’s grave
looks as she discovered an extravagant shilling or two in the household
accounts--or found out that Susan had been wasteful in the kitchen. It
was so odd, so _funny_, to contrast these minute cares with the golden
age which was to come.
And then the plans and secret intentions, the wonderful committees which
sat in profound retirement; Marian plotting with Mamma what Agnes
should have when she came into her fortune, and Agnes advising, with the
same infallible authority, for the advantage of Marian. The vast and
ambitious project of the girls for going to the country--the country or
the sea-side--some one, they did not care which, of those beautiful
unknown beatific regions out of London, which were to them all fairyland
and countries of magic. We suppose nobody ever did enjoy the sea breezes
as Agnes and Marian Atheling, in their little white bed-chamber, enjoyed
the imaginary gale upon the imaginary sands, which they could perceive
brightening the cheek of Mamma, and tossing about the curls of the
twin-babies, at any moment of any night or day. This was to be the grand
triumph of the time when Agnes came into her fortune, though even Mamma
as yet had not heard of the project; but already it was a greater
pleasure to the girls than any real visit to any real sea-side in this
visible earth ever could be.
And then there began to come, dropping in at all hours, from the
earliest post in the morning to the last startling delivery at nine
o’clock at night, packets of printed papers--the proof-sheets of this
astonishing book. You are not to suppose that those proofs needed much
correcting--Agnes’s manuscript was far too daintily written for that;
yet every one read them with the utmost care and attention, and Papa
made little crosses in pencil on the margin when he came to a doubtful
word. Everybody read them, not once only, but sometimes twice, or even
three times over--everybody but Charlie, who eat them up with his bread
and butter at tea, did not say a word on the subject, and never looked
at them again. All Bellevue resounded with the knocks of that incessant
postman at Number Ten. Public opinion was divided on the subject. Some
people said the Athelings had been extravagant, and were now suffering
under a very Egyptian plague, a hailstorm of bills; others, more
charitable, had private information that both the Miss Athelings were
going to be married, and believed this continual dropping to be a
carnival shower of flowers and _bonbons_, the love-letters of the
affianced bridegrooms; but nobody supposed that the unconscious and
innocent postman stood a respectable deputy for the little Beelzebub, to
whose sooty hands of natural right should have been committed the
custody of those fair and uncorrectable sheets. Sometimes, indeed, this
sable emissary made a hasty and half-visible appearance in his own
proper person, with one startling knock, as loud, but more solemn than
the postman--“That’s the Devil!” said Charlie, with unexpected
animation, the second time this emphatic sound was heard; and Susan
refused point-blank to open the door.
How carefully these sheets were corrected! how punctually they were
returned!--with what conscientious care and earnestness the young author
attended to all the requirements of printer and publisher! There was
something amusing, yet something touching as well, in the sincere and
natural humbleness of these simple people. Whatever they said, they
could not help thinking that some secret spring of kindness had moved Mr
Burlington; that somehow this unconscious gentleman, most innocent of
any such intention, meant to do them all a favour. And moved by the
influence of this amiable delusion, Agnes was scrupulously attentive to
all the suggestions of the publisher. Mr Burlington himself was somewhat
amused by his new writer’s obedience, but doubtful, and did not half
understand it; for it is not always easy to comprehend downright and
simple sincerity. But the young author went on upon her guileless way,
taking no particular thought of her own motives; and on with her every
step went all the family, excited and unanimous. To her belonged the
special joy of being the cause of this happy commotion; but the pleasure
and the honour and the delight belonged equally to them all.