MATTIE IN A NEW CHARACTER.
The family at Lowder Street were all gathered together when the
travellers made their appearance. There was a general shout of delight
when Archie's face peered in at them from the dusky hall over Mattie's
shoulder. Mrs. Drummond's thin face flushed with the unexpected
pleasure.
"Oh, Archie! my dear boy, I never thought you would surprise us in
this way!" she said, throwing down her work with tremulous hands. She
kissed Mattie affectionately; but that dark glow of tenderness in her
eyes was for Archie. In spite of her ordinary undemonstrativeness, she
seldom spoke to him without that involuntary softening of her voice.
However much she loved her other children, her maternal passion was
reserved for her first-born son.
"How naughty of you to steal a march on us in this manner!" she said,
playfully. "We have only prepared a meat-tea for Mattie, because I
knew she would not mind; but if you had telegraphed I would have had
dinner ready for you, Archie."
"Stuff! nonsense! why need he have telegraphed? I suppose what is good
enough for Mattie and the rest of us is good enough for Archie!"
Mr. Drummond spoke testily as he put down the paper. These hints about
the late dinners always nettled him. His renunciation of them years
ago had been a heavy piece of self-denial, for he was a man rather
fond of creature comforts; he had done it for his children's sake; but
it was more than flesh and blood could bear that this renounced luxury
should be served for his son's benefit. Was he not as good as Archie,
though he had not been to a University and become fellow of his
college?
"Father is quite right," returned Archie, cheerfully. "I would not
telegraph, because I wanted to surprise you; and I knew you were such
a good manager, mother, that you would have plenty of aired sheets
ready for my bed. Of course what is good enough for Mattie is right
for me. As we are both as hungry as hunters, we shall do justice to
anything you have prepared."
"There is only some cold meat and some ham and eggs," observed Mrs.
Drummond, a little plaintively. She did not dare anger her husband
further by proposing even a chop, for she knew how touchy he was about
Archie's fastidiousness; but if she could have had her own way she
would have killed the fatted calf for this dearest son. Nothing was
too good for him in her eyes; and yet for the sake of tranquillity she
dared not even hazard the question of a chop.
"Cold meat,--that is just what I should like," replied Archie, with
excellent _sang-froid_. He detested that stock-dish of the Lowder
Street larder, ham and eggs. The eggs were dubious, he
considered,--not actually new-laid, but a little suggestive of lime.
"But there! you must not give me all your attention, mother," he
continued. "I have brought Mattie home, you see, and you have never
told her even how she looks."
"She looks very well," replied Mrs. Drummond. In spite of her anxiety
about Archie, she had been looking at her daughter more than once with
puzzled eyes. There was something different about her, she thought. It
was hardly like Mattie to come in so quietly among them all and take
her place beside her father. Mattie seldom did anything without a
fuss: it was her ordinary way to stand among them chattering as fast
as her tongue would go, until some one reminded her that it was time
for her to take off her hat and jacket or she would be late for tea.
But to-night Mattie had hardly opened her lips, except to answer her
father's questions about the journey. She had kissed her sisters very
quietly, and had asked after Isabel, and had then proposed of her own
accord to go upstairs.
"Clara, go up with your sister. No, not Laura; you will all get
chattering, and then we shall be kept waiting. Isabel is upstairs,
Archie: she has come in to sit with us this evening, as Ellis has to
go to a business dinner. He will call for her on his way."
"I am very glad she is here," returned Archie, "for I have to go back
by the early train to-morrow. Ah, there she is. Well, how are you,
Belle?" greeting her affectionately as she came up to him rather
shyly. Archie could hardly help smiling at the contrast between
Isabel's brilliant evening toilet and his other sister's brown stuff
dress. It was a little trying to his gravity to see her putting on
such pretty little airs of matronly dignity. Mrs. Ellis Burton was an
important person now; that was sufficiently obvious; the plump little
figure was most lavishly adorned. But the round childish face was
certainly very pretty; and, as every other sentence brought in
"Ellis," and as Ellis's opinion appeared always right in her eyes,
Archie deduced that his sister was satisfied with her choice.
"Oh, dear, Mattie! how droll it is to see you home again!" exclaimed
Susie, who was noted for making awkward speeches. "And how funny you
look beside Isabel!"
"We are very glad to have her back," returned Mrs. Drummond, in her
repressive tones. She was just refilling her teapot from the urn, but
she found opportunity to shake her head at Susie. "People do not
generally look smart in their travelling-dress; but I think she looks
very nice. Had you not a commoner gown, my dear? That looks almost too
good for the purpose;" for Mrs. Drummond's sense of economy was a
little shocked by perceiving that Mattie's gown was a new one.
"It is very well made," observed Isabel, critically. "I am so glad,
Mattie, that you have given up that hideous plaid: it never suited
you."
"If I had been you, I would have travelled in it," persisted Mrs.
Drummond, who never could remember that Mattie was over thirty and
might possibly have opinions of her own.
Archie listened to all this with great amusement.
"Don't you think it is about time I started a pleasanter subject,
Mattie?" he asked, laughing. "Have you finished your tea, my dear? for
I do not want to spoil your appetite; but time is getting on, and----"
here he glanced at the clock.
Every one stared at this, for Archie had never spoken in exactly that
way to Mattie before; and, as he did so, Mattie's cheeks were burning.
But what was their surprise when Archie suddenly rose from his seat
and laid his hand kindly on Mattie's shoulder!
"She is too shy to tell you herself; I have come all these miles to do
it for her. Isabel, you need not look so consequential. Ellis is a
good fellow, I dare say, but our little Mattie has done better for
herself than even you. Mother, you have achieved a success in one of
your seven daughters: let me introduce to you the future Lady
Challoner!" And then, still keeping his hand upon her shoulder, he
looked blandly round on them all.
"Well, I am sure!" from Isabel, half pouting; but no one else spoke
except Mr. Drummond:
"What does this mean, Archie? Can't you speak for yourself, my girl?
Is this a joke? Does he mean something amusing?" asked the father; but
his lip quivered a little: if it should be true,--if it were no joke!
"It is just as Archie says!" replied Mattie, timidly, not daring to
raise her eyes. "Sir Harry asked me to marry him, and I said yes,
because--because he was always so good to me." And here Mattie laughed
a little hysterically. "And I did not think you would object,
father."
"Me object!" replied Mr. Drummond, oblivious of grammar just then.
"Why, my little Mattie, what news is this? Come here and kiss me, my
girl. I am proud of you; I am delighted to think a daughter of mine is
going to make such a splendid match. Why don't you speak to her, my
dear?" addressing his wife, with some excitement. "Bless my
soul,--Lady Challoner, my plain little Mattie Lady Challoner! Is it
possible? Why, you were telling us, Archie, what a Croesus this Sir
Henry was, and how he had just bought quite a fine place for
himself."
"Mattie, come here." Her children could hardly recognize their
mother's voice, it was so broken, and the tears were running down her
cheeks, though not one of them remembered seeing her cry before.
Mattie never felt her triumph greater, never understood the
magnificence of her own success, until she saw those tears, and felt
the presence of her mother's arms round her. Never since the child
Mattie had had to make way for the new-born brother, and had toddled
away with the never-forgotten words, "Mammy's arms are full; no room
for Mattie now," had she laid her head upon that mother's shoulder to
indulge in the good cry that was needed to relieve her. Isabel looked
almost affronted as she twirled her diamond rings round her plump
fingers. When she and Ellis had been engaged, her mother had not made
all this fuss. And Mattie was such an old thing; and it was so
ridiculous; and her father seemed on the verge of crying too. "But
then," as Susie said afterwards, "Belle did not like her consequence
to be set aside; and she and Ellis were just nobodies at all."
No one enjoyed the scene so much as Archie: that was how his mother
ought to be with her girls. Nevertheless, he interrupted them
ruthlessly:
"Don't make your eyes too red, Mattie: remember who will be in by and
by." And as she started up at this and began to smooth her rumpled
hair, he explained to them generally that they had not travelled
alone; Sir Harry had accompanied them to Leeds, and was at present
dining, he believed at the Star Hotel, where he had bespoken a room.
"He thought it best to make himself known personally to you; and, as
Mattie raised no objection, he announced his intention of calling this
evening----" but before Archie could finish his sentence, or the
awe-struck domestic announce him properly, Sir Harry himself was among
them all, shaking hands with everybody, down to Dottie.
And, really, for a shy man he did his part very well: he seemed to
take his welcome for granted, and beamed on them all most genially.
"I suppose the parson has already introduced me," he said, when Mr.
Drummond senior held out his hand, "What a lot of you there are!" he
continued, as he reached Dottie, who, dreadfully frightened at his
size, tried to hide behind Susie. Dottie compared him in her own mind
to one of their favorite giants. "He was so dreadfully like Fee-fo-fum
in 'Jack the Giant-Killer,'" she pouted, when Mattie afterwards took
her to task, "when he kissed me I thought he was going to eat me up."
Mattie's dark little face lit up with shy happiness when she saw him
sit down beside her mother and talk to her in his frank pleasant way.
In her eyes he was nothing less than an angel of light. True, the room
had never looked so small and shabby as it looked to-night, but what
did that matter to Mattie?--the poor little Cinderella in the brown
gown had found her prince. By and by the pumpkin-coach would fetch her
to a grand house, she would have jewels and fine clothes,--everything
that the heart of woman could desire; but it may be doubted if such
thoughts ever crossed Mattie's mind. That he had chosen her, this was
the miracle; that she was never to be scolded, and laughed at, and
teased; that he had stooped to her, this noble, great-hearted man, to
raise her from her humbleness; that he could care for her, in spite of
her plainness and her many faults. No wonder if such happiness almost
beautified Mattie, as she sat a little apart, surrounded by her young
sisters.
Mrs. Drummond's stern face glowed with pleasure when Sir Harry in a
few simple words spoke to her of his pride in winning her daughter.
Could it be her homely, old-fashioned little Mattie of whom he was
speaking, whose unselfishness and goodness he praised so highly! "I
have never known a more beautiful nature: she does not seem to me to
have an unkind thought of any one. All my cousins love her. If you
will trust her to me, I think I can promise, as far as a man can, that
her life shall be a happy one." No wonder if the mother's eyes filled
with joyous tears at such words as these.
"Mattie, dear," said Sir Harry to her the next day, when they found
themselves alone,--a rather difficult thing to achieve in the crowded
household, but Mrs. Drummond had just left the room,--"I have been
talking to your mother. She is a sensible woman, and she thinks in six
weeks everything can be ready. What do you say?"
"If mother thinks so, I suppose she is right," returned Mattie, very
much confused by this sudden appeal to her opinion. Sir Harry had
already importuned for a speedy marriage, and she had in much
trepidation referred him to her mother, feeling herself unequal to the
task of answering him.
"Yes, your mother is a sensible woman," continued Sir Harry, taking no
notice of her confusion. "She knows that a great house full of
servants is more than a man can manage alone; and so, as I told her
that Gilsbank was ready, and its master waiting, she was quite of my
opinion that there should be no delay. You see, Mattie," in a tone of
great gentleness, "though I am very fond of you, I cannot help feeling
stifled in a small house full of people. There is no getting you to
myself, or being comfortable; and a man of my size feels out of place
among a lot of girls. So if you are willing, as of course you are,"
very coaxingly, "and I am willing, we may as well get the thing over.
It takes a good deal out of a fellow to go through this sort of thing
properly, and I don't fancy I hit it off well: so we will say this day
six weeks. And to-morrow you will be a good little woman, and let me
go back to my comfortable quarters at Hadleigh, for one breathes only
smoke here; and how you have always borne it all these years is a
mystery to me."
So Mattie let him go cheerfully. She had never been selfish in her
life, and of course she spoke no word to dissuade him; but, though she
had but few letters from him, and those of the briefest possible
kind,--for Sir Harry was not fond of penmanship,--those six weeks were
far from being unhappy. How could they be, when they were all so good
to her, Mattie thought?--when her opinion was deferred to even by her
mother, and when her brothers and sisters treated her with such
respect and affection?
Mattie had no sense of the ludicrous, or she would have laughed at the
change in Clyde's tone, or at the way Fred boxed Dottie's ears for
speaking rudely to Mattie: in their eyes the future Lady Challoner was
a person of the utmost importance. The boys vied with each other in
waiting on her; the girls were always ready with their little
services. Mattie felt herself almost overwhelmed sometimes.
"Oh, mother, ask them not to do it!" she said, one day, with tears in
her eyes. "I am only Mattie; I am not different; I never shall be
different. I shall want to wait on you all my life,--on you and all of
them!"
"It is for them to wait on you more!" returned her mother, gravely. "I
am afraid they have not always been good to you, and they want to make
up for it."
But not all the attentions she received could move Mattie from her own
humble estimate of herself; and yet in some ways, if she could have
seen herself, she would have owned there was a difference. Mattie no
longer fussed and fidgeted: always sweet-natured, she grew placid in
her new happiness.
"I consider myself a fortunate fellow, for I have the dearest little
wife in the world," Sir Harry said to her a few days after they were
married, when Mattie had, as usual, said something disparaging of
herself. "Never mind what you think, so long as I am satisfied; and it
is very rude of you to be always finding fault with my choice,--ay,
Lady Challoner!"