_"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-class
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 class 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 class. 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 compassionately towards
her so much so, that, though wondering what could possibly be her
business at the Lodge, she assumed the mistress's kindly part, and bowed
to her in passing 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 Letitia 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 Letitia'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
Titia and somebody else--a great, big, red-checked woman--Titia 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--Titia'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 Titia 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 passion and beat
her--poor Titia! 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 Titia 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.
"Miss Bennett has left for the day, has she not, Titia? You are not
going out with her, or going out again at all?"
"No," said Titia, with her head bent down.
It was always Christian's belief--and practice--that to accuse a child,
unproved, of telling a lie, was next to suggesting that lies should
be told. She always took truth for granted until she had unequivocal
evidence to the contrary.
"Very well," she said, kindly. "Is that a nice book you have? 'Arabian
Nights?' Then sit and read it quietly till you go to bed. Good-night, my
dear."
She kissed her, which was always a slight effort; it was hard work
loving Titia, who was so cold and prim, and unchildlike, with so little
responsiveness in her nature.
"I hope all is safe for today," thought Christian, anxiously, and
determined to speak to Titia's father the first opportunity. He was
dining in hall today, and afterward they were to go to the long-delayed
entertainment at the vice chancellor's, which was to inaugurate her
entrance into Avonsbridge society.
Miss Gascoigne was full of it; and during all the time that the three
ladies were dining together, she talked incessantly, so that, even had
she wished, Mrs. Grey could not have got in a single word of inquiry
concerning Miss Bennett. She however, judged it best to wait quietly
till the cloth was removed and Barker vanished.
Christian was not what is termed a "transparent" character; that is,
she could "keep herself to herself," as the phrase is, better than most
people. It was partly from habit, having lived so long in what was worse
than loneliness, under circumstances when she was obliged to maintain
the utmost and most cautious silence upon every thing, and partly
because her own strong nature prevented the necessity of letting her
mind and feelings bubble over on all occasions and to every body, as is
the manner of weaker but yet very amiable women. But, on the other
hand, though she could keep a secret sacredly, rigidly--so rigidly as to
prevent people's even guessing that there was a secret to be kept, she
disliked unnecessary mysteries and small deceptions exceedingly. She saw
no use and no good in them. They seemed to her only the petty follies
of petty minds. She had no patience with them, and would take no trouble
about them.
So, as soon as the ladies were alone, she said to Miss Gascoigne
outright, without showing either hesitation or annoyance.
"I met Miss Bennett in the hall to-day. Why did you not tell me that you
and Aunt Maria had chosen a governess for Letitia?"
Sometimes nothing puzzles very clever people so much as a piece of
direct simplicity. Aunt Henrietta actually blushed.
"Chosen a governess? Well, so we did! We were obliged to do it. And
you were so much occupied with Arthur. Indeed, I must say," recovering
herself from the defensive into the offensive position, "that the way
you made yourself a perfect slave to that child, to the neglect of all
your other duties, was--"
"Never mind that now, please. Just tell me about Miss Bennett. When did
she come, and how did you hear of her?"
She spoke quite gently, in mere inquiry; she was so anxious neither
to give nor to take offense, if it could possibly be avoided. She bore
always in mind a sentence her husband had once quoted--and, though a
clergyman, he did not often quote the Bible, he only lived it: "As
much as in you lieth, live peaceably with all men." But she sometimes
wondered, with a kind of sad satire, whether the same could ever, under
any circumstances, be done with all women.
Alas! not with these, or rather this woman, Aunt Maria being merely
the adjective of that very determined substantive, Aunt Henrietta. She
braced herself to the battle immediately.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Grey; but I cannot see what right you have to question
me, or I to answer. Am I not capable of the management of my own
sister's children, who have been under my care ever since she died, and
in whom I never supposed you would take the slightest interest?"
This after her charge of Arthur--when she had nursed the child back to
life again, and knew that he still depended upon her for everything in
life! But, knowing it was so, the secret truth was enough to sustain
her under any heap of falsehoods--opposing falsehoods, too, directly
contradicting one another; but Miss Gascoigne never paused to consider
that. Lax-tongued people seldom do.
"I will not question the point of my interest in the children. If I can
not prove it in other ways than words, the latter would be very useless.
All I wish to say is, that I should like to have been consulted before
any thing was decided as to a governess, and I am afraid Miss Bennett is
not exactly the person I should have chosen."
"Indeed! And pray, why not, may I ask? She is a most respectable
person--a person who knows her place. I am sure the deference with
which she treats me, the attention with which she listens to all my
suggestions, have given me the utmost confidence in the young woman; all
the more, because, I repeat, she knows her place. She is content to be a
governess; she never pretends to be a lady."
The insult was so pointed, so plain, that it could not be passed over.
Christian rose from her seat. "Miss Gascoigne, seeing that I am here at
the head of my husband's table, I must request you to be a little more
guarded in your conversation. I, too, have been a governess, but it
never occurred to me that I was otherwise than a lady."
There was a dead silence, during which poor Aunt Maria cast imploring
looks at Aunt Henrietta, who perhaps felt that she had gone too far, for
she muttered some vague apology about "different people being different
in their ways."
"Exactly so and what I meant to observe was, that my chief reason for
doubting Miss Bennett's fitness to instruct Titia is what you yourself
allow. If she is 'not a lady,' how can you expect her to make a lady of
our little girl?"
"Our little girl?"
"Yes, our" the choking tears came as far as Christian's throat, and
then were swallowed down again. "My little girl, if you will; for she
is mine--my husband's daughter and I wish to see her grow up every
thing that his daughter ought to be. I say again, I ought to have been
consulted in the choice of her governess."
She stopped for, accidentally looking out of the window, where the
lengthened spring twilight still lingered in the cloisters, she fancied
she saw creeping from pillar to pillar a child's figure; could it
possibly be Titia's? Yes, it certainly was Titia herself, stealing
through two sides of the quad-rectangle and under the archway that led
to Walnut-tree Court.
Without saying a word to the aunts--for she would not have accused
any body, a child, or even a servant, upon anything short of absolute
proof--Christian went up to her from the window of which she could see
into Walnut-tree Court. There, walking round and round, in the solitude
which at this hour was customary in most colleges, she distinguished,
dim as the light was, three figures--a man, a woman, and a child; in all
probability. Miss Bennett, her lover, and Titia, whom, with a mixture of
cunning and shortsightedness, she had induced to play propriety, in case
any discovery should be made.
Still, the light was too faint to make their identity sure; and to send
a servant after them on mere suspicion would only bring trouble upon
poor little Titia, besides disgracing, in the last manner in which any
generous woman would wish to disgrace another woman, the poor friendless
governess, who, after all, might only be taking an honest evening walk
with her own honest lover, as every young woman has a perfect right to
do.
"And love is so sweet, and life so bitter! I'll not be hard upon her,
poor girl!" thought Christian, with a faint sigh. "Whatever is done I
will do myself and then it can injure nobody."
So she put on shawl and bonnet, and was just slipping out at the hall
door, rather thankful that Barker was absent from his post, when she met
Titia creeping stealthily in, not at the front door, but at the glass
door, which led to the garden behind; to which garden there was only
one other entrance, a little door leading into Walnut-tree Court, and
of this door Barker usually kept the key. Now, however, it hung from the
little girl's hand, the poor frightened creature, who, the minute she
saw her step-mother, tried to run away up stairs.
"Titia, come back! Tell me where you have been, without Phillis or any
body, and when I desired you not to go out again."
"It was only to--to fetch a crocus for Atty."
"Where is the crocus?"
"I--dropped it."
"And this key. What did you want with the key?"
"I--I don't know."
The lie failed, if they were lies; but perhaps they might have been
partly true; the child hung her head and began to whimper. She was not
quite hardened, then.
"Come here to me," said Christian, sadly and gravely, leading her to the
glass door, so that what light there was could shine upon her face; "let
me look if you have been telling me the truth. Don't be afraid; if you
have I will not punish you. I will not be hard upon you in any case,
if you will only speak the truth. Titia, a little girl like you has no
business to be creeping in and out of her papa's house like a thief.
Tell at once where have you been, and who was with you?"
The child burst out crying. "I daren't tell, or Phillis will beat me.
She said she would if I stirred an inch from the nursery, while she went
down to have tea with cook and Barker. And I thought I might just run
for ten minutes to see Miss Bennett, who wanted me so."
"You were with Miss Bennett, then? Any body else?"
"Only a gentleman," said Letitia, hanging her head and blushing with
that painful precocity of consciousness so sad to see in a little girl.
"What was his name?"
"I don't know. Miss Bennett didn't tell me. She only said he was a
friend of hers, who liked little girls, and that if I could come and
have a walk with them, without telling Phillis or any body, she would
let me off all the hardest of my French lessons. And so--and so--Oh,
hide me, there's papa at the hall door, and Aunt Henrietta coming out of
the dining-room. And Aunt Henrietta never believes what I say, even if I
tell her the truth. Oh, let me run--let me run."
The child's terror was so uncontrollable that there was nothing for it
but to yield; and she fled.
"Titia! Titia!" called out her father. "Christian, what is the matter?
What was my little girl crying for?"
There was no avoiding the domestic catastrophe, even had Christian
wished to avoid it, which she did not. She felt it was a case in which
concealment was impossible--wrong. Dr. Grey ought to be told, and Miss
Gascoigne likewise.
"Your little girl has been very naughty, papa; but others have been more
to blame than she. Come with me--will you come too, Aunt Henrietta?--and
I will tell you all about it."
She did so, as briefly as she could, and in telling it she discovered
one fact--which she passed over, and yet it made her glad--that
Dr. Grey, like herself, had been kept wholly in the dark about the
engagement of Miss Bennett as governess.
"I meant to have told you today, though, after I had given her
sufficient trial," said Miss Gascoigne, sullenly; "I had with her the
best of recommendations, and I do not believe one word of all this
story--that is," waking up to the full meaning of what she was saying,
"not without the most conclusive evidence."
"Evidence," repeated Dr. Grey. "You have my wife's word, and my
daughter's."
"Your daughter is the most arrant little liar I ever knew!"
The poor father shrank back. Perhaps he knew, by sad experience, that
Aunt Henrietta's condemnation was not altogether without foundation.
His look expressed such unutterable pain that Christian came forward and
spoke out strongly, almost angrily.
"It is fear that makes a liar, even as harshness and injustice create
deceit and underhandedness. Love a child and trust it, and if it does
wrong, punish it neither cruelly nor unfairly, and it will never tell
falsehoods. Titia will not--she shall not, as long as I am alive to keep
her to the truth."
Dr. Grey looked fondly at his wile's young, glowing face and even Miss
Gascoigne, the hard, worldly woman, viewing all things in her narrow,
worldly way, was silenced for the time. Then she began again, pouring
out a torrent of explanations and self-exculpations, which soon resolved
themselves into the simple question, What was to be done? There--she
ended.
"Don't ask me to do any thing. I will not. I wash my hands of the whole
matter. If the story be true, and Miss Bennett can be guilty of conduct
so indecorous, it would never do for me to be mixed up in such an
improper proceeding and if untrue, and I accused her of it, I should
find myself in a very unpleasant position. So, Mrs. Grey, since you
have interfered in this matter, you must carry it out on your own
responsibility. If you have taken a grudge against Miss Bennett--which
I did not expect, considering your own antecedents--you must just do as
you like concerning her. But, bless me! how the evening is slipping
by. Come, Maria, I shall hardly have time to dress for the vice
chancellor's."
So saying, Miss Gascoigne swept away, her silk skirts flowing behind
her. Aunt Maria followed with one pathetic glance at "dear Arnold;" and
the husband and wife were left alone.
Dr. Grey threw himself into his arm-chair, and there came across his
face the weary look, which Christian had of late learned to notice,
indicating that he was no more a young man, and that his life had been
longer in trials than even in years.
"My dear, I wish you women-kind could settle these domestic troubles
among yourselves. We men have so many outside worries to contend with.
It is rather hard."
It was hard. Christian reproached herself almost as if she had been the
primary cause of this, the first complaint she had ever heard him make,
and which he seemed immediately to regret having allowed to escape him.
"I don't mean, my dear wife, that you should not have told me this;
indeed, it was impossible to keep it from me. It all springs from Aunt
Henrietta. I wish she--But she is Aunt Henrietta, and we must just make
the best of her, as I have done for nearly twenty years."
"And why did you?" rose irrepressibly to Christian's lips. The sense of
wild resistance to injustice and wrong, so strong in youth, was still
not beaten down. It roused in her something very like fierceness--these
gentle creatures can be fierce sometimes--to see a good man like
Dr. Grey trodden down and domineered over by this narrow-minded,
bad-tempered woman. "I often wonder at your patience, and at all you
forgive."
"Seventy times seven," was the quick answer. And Christian became
silenced and grave. "Still," he added, smiling, "a sin against one's
self does not include a sin against another. The next time Henrietta
speaks as she spoke to you just now, she and I will have a very serious
quarrel."
"Oh no, no! Not for my sake. I had rather die than bring dissension into
this house."
"My poor child, people can not die so easily. They have to live on and
endure. But what were we talking about; for I forget: I believe I do
forget things sometimes;" and he passed his hand over his forehead. "I
am not so young as you, my dear; and, though my life has looked
smooth enough outside; there has been a good deal of trouble in it.
In truth,"--he added, "I have had some vexatious things perplexing me
today, which must excuse my being so dull and disagreeable."
"Disagreeable!" echoed Christian, with a little forced sort of laugh,
adding, in a strange, soft shyness, "I wish you would tell me what those
vexatious things were. I know I am young, and foolish enough too; still,
if I could help you--"
"Help me!" He looked at her eagerly, then shook his head and sighed.
"No, my child, you can not help me. It is other people's business,
which I am afraid I have no right to tell even to you. It is only that
a person has come back to Avonsbridge, who, if I could suppose I had an
enemy in the world--But here I am telling you."
"Never mind, you shall tell me no more," said Christian, cheerily,
"especially as I do not believe that in the wide world you could have an
enemy. And now give me your opinion as to this matter of Miss Bennett?"
"First, what is yours?"
Christian pondered a little. "It seems to me that the only thing is
for me to speak to her myself, quite openly and plainly, when she comes
tomorrow."
"And then dismiss her?"
"I fear so."
"For having a lover?" said Dr. Grey, with an amused twinkle in his eye.
"Not exactly, but for telling Titia about it, and making use of the
child for her own selfish needs. Do you consider me hard? Well, it is
because I know what this ends in. Miss Gascoigne does not see it, but I
do. She only thinks of 'propriety.' I think of something far deeper--a
girl's first notions about those sort of things. It is cruel to meddle
with them before their time--to take the bloom off the peach and
the scent off the rose; to put worldliness instead of innocence, and
conceited folly instead of simple, solemn, awful love. I would rather
die, even now--you will think I am always ready for dying--but I would
rather die than live to think and feel about love like some women--ay,
and not bad women either, whom I have known."
Mrs. Grey had gone on, hardly considering what she was saying or to what
it referred, till she was startled to feel fixed upon her her husband's
earnest eyes.
"You need not be afraid," said he smiling. "Christian, shall I tell you
a little secret? Do you know why I loved you? Because you are unlike all
other women--because you bring hack to me the dreams of my youth. And
here," suddenly rising, as if he feared he had said too much, "we must
put dreams aside, and arguments likewise, for Aunt Henrietta will never
forgive us if we are late at this terrible evening party."