Mrs. Arlington was not one to do things by halves, so that when she
welcomed Isabel, on her return, it was no longer as "the governess," but
as her future daughter-in-law--as the bride-elect of her darling
son--indeed as one of them, the Arlingtons. She was glad, as he was so
determined upon being a missionary, that he was to marry before he went,
but she would rather--far rather--that he should have chosen any other
than "the governess," though she had nothing against Isabel--nothing.
Still it was a trial to the haughty mother that her only son--the hope
and pride of the family--should marry a governess. She knew that many
would say she had been imprudent in having so young and pretty a
governess, knowing how fond Everard was of the society of his young
sisters. And, indeed, she did feel she had been wrong when she got
Everard's letter announcing the engagement, and it was some little time
before she could be at all satisfied with the matter. Grace was
excessively annoyed, and, by her anger, tended greatly to stimulate her
mother's displeasure, saying that it was quite a disgrace to the family,
and that she would never receive Isabel as a sister. Fortunately her
consent was never likely to be asked, as her easy-going brother, the pet
of the house, had a pretty determined will, and her opinion would
certainly not influence him in the matter. Indeed, now that he had
Isabel's consent, he would have married her even though opposed by any
number of relations; and it was with no thought of obtaining their ideas
on the subject that he had written, but simply to inform them of the
fact, little suspecting the commotion it would cause at Elm Grove.
However, the course he pursued had the effect of reconciling his mother
to the match, and it was well that it was so, or Isabel would have met
with a sorry reception on her arrival.
Very quickly after the letter we have mentioned, came another, such as
only Everard could write--written out of a full heart, telling of his
happiness, and also of his former despair, long probation, and weary
waiting; how his love for Isabel had dated from that Sunday evening when
he first saw her in the school-room with the children; and expressing
the hope that his mother would give Isabel a place in her heart equal to
that of her own children.
Tears of sympathy and love fell from the mother's eyes as she read, and
a happy smile played around her mouth as she refolded the letter which
would be read again and again. Henceforth she was won. So, then, when
Lady Ashton, who had now returned from England, came to condole with
dear Mrs. Arlington upon the ill luck that had befallen the family, she
found that lady quite satisfied, to her profound astonishment. However,
she gave a willing ear and ready sympathy to Grace, who was quite
disgusted at her mother's contentment, and returned with Lady Ashton to
the Park, saying, that she was far too angry to meet them at present;
and there she remained for weeks nursing her wrath against her only
brother, who would so shortly leave for a distant land, not heeding the
possibility, nay probability, that he might never return. Who could
foresee the dangers that might be in store for him? Read the dangers and
miseries to which the missionaries sent to foreign and heathen lands are
only too often subjected--dangers on sea and land, and fearful cruelties
at the hands of wild and savage creatures, more ferocious sometimes in
their implacable fury than the beasts of prey. But even overlooking
these more dreadful calamities, there is the climate, so trying to the
natives of cooler countries. Nor was she just to Isabel. She would only
see a beautiful, designing girl, who had succeeded in catching her
brother. She was angry with Isabel, with Everard, with her mother, and,
lastly, with herself, to think that she, too, had been for a short time
deluded like the rest. She felt now that she positively hated Isabel.
Lady Ashton did her best to fan the flame of resentment. What wonder,
then, that under that lady's able management it grew day by day, until
Grace really believed her silly anger to be just indignation at her
brother's blind infatuation. Ah, foolish Grace!
To Emily's great satisfaction, Everard preached his first sermon in
the church they usually attended, and was very calm and self-possessed
considering the eight eager faces in the family pew, his heightened
color being the only evidence that this was the first time he had
addressed a congregation from the pulpit. It happened, strangely enough,
that a collection for the Missionary Society was to be taken up on this
occasion, and the young deacon delivered an exceedingly eloquent
discourse advocating the cause of missions, with a warmth and
earnestness that carried his hearers along with him, and showed that
his heart was in the work. No one who heard him could doubt his future
success in the cause.
Then what a happy group waited for him after service, and what approving
smiles beamed upon him from loved faces when he came!
"Oh, Everard! I should never go to sleep at sermon time if you always
preached," cried little Amy. "It was so nice," added Rose, warmly; while
the proud father wrung his son's hand in silence more eloquent than
words.
Then Everard disappointed a crowd of admiring friends by disappearing
through a side gate and going home across the fields, even waving back
his young sisters, who would have followed him. "I could not stand it,"
he said, on reaching home half an hour after the others, though his way
had been much shorter, he having spent the interim in self-communion
beneath the shade of a friendly oak. Oh! that was a happy Sunday at Elm
Grove; but, like all earthly happiness, it had one cloud--Grace's
strange and unkind conduct.