POSSESSION
So Francis Morton, Baron Northmoor of Northmoor, and Mary Marshall,
daughter of the late Reverend John Marshall, were man and wife at last.
Their honeymoon was ideally happy. It fulfilled a dream of their life,
when Frank used, in the holidays spent by Mary with his mother, to read
aloud the Waverley novels, and they had calculated, almost as an
impossible castle in the air, the possibility of visiting the localities.
And now they went, as assuredly they had never thought of going, and not
much impeded by the greatness that had been thrust on them. The
good-natured Kentons had dispensed his Lordship from the encumbrance of a
valet, and though my Lady could not well be allowed to go maidless, Lady
Kenton had found a sensible, friendly person for her, of whom she soon
ceased to be afraid, and thus felt the advantage of being able to attend
to her husband instead of her luggage.
Tourists might look and laugh at their simple delight as at that of a
pair of unsophisticated cockneys. This did not trouble them, as they
trod what was to them classic ground, tried in vain the impossible feat
of 'seeing Melrose aright,' but revelled in what they did see, stood with
bated breath at Dryburgh by the Minstrel's tomb, and tracked his magic
spells from the Tweed even to Staffa, feeling the full delight for the
first time of mountain, sea, and loch. Their enjoyment was perhaps even
greater than that of boy and girl, for it was the reaction of chastened
lives and hearts 'at leisure from themselves,' nor were spirit and vigour
too much spent for enterprise.
They tasted to the full every innocent charm that came in their way, and,
above all, the bliss of being together in the perfect sympathy that had
been the growth of so many years. Their maid, Harte, might well confide
to her congeners that though my lord and my lady were the oldest couple
she had known, they were the most attached, in a quiet way.
They were loth to end this state of felicity before taking their new
cares upon them, and were glad that the arrangements of the executors
made it desirable that they should not take possession till October, when
they left behind them the gorgeous autumn beauty of the western coast and
journeyed southwards.
The bells were rung, the gates thrown wide open, and lights flashed in
the windows as Lord and Lady Northmoor drove up to their home, but it was
in the dark, and there was no demonstrative welcome, the indoor servants
were all new, the cook-housekeeper hired by Lady Kenton's assistance, and
the rest of the maids chosen by her, the butler and his subordinate
acquired in like manner.
It was a little dreary. The rooms looked large and empty. Miss Morton's
belongings had been just what gave a homelike air to the place, and when
these were gone, even the big fires could not greatly cheer the huge
spaces. However, these two months had accustomed the new arrivals to
their titles, and likewise to being waited upon, and they were less at a
loss than they would have been previously, though to Mary especially it
was hard to realise that it was her own house, and that she need ask no
one's leave. Also that it was not a duty to sit with a fire. She could
not well have done so, considering how many were doing their best to
enliven the house, and finally she spent the evening in the library, not
a very inviting room in itself, but which the late lord had inhabited,
and where the present one had already held business interviews. It was,
of course, lined with the standard books of the last generation, and
Mary, who had heard of many, but never had access to them, flitted over
them while her husband opened the letters he had found awaiting him. To
her, what some one has called the 'tea, tobacco, and snuff' of an old
library where the books are chiefly viewed as appropriate furniture, were
all delightful discoveries. Even to 'Hume's _History of England_--nine
volumes! I did not know it was so long! Our first class had the
Student's _Hume_. Is there much difference?'
'Rather to the Student's advantage, I believe. Half these letters, at
least, are mere solicitations for custom! And advertisements!'
'How the books stick together! I wonder when they were opened last!'
'Never, I suspect,' said he. 'I do not imagine the Mortons were much
disposed to read.'
'Well, they have left us a delightful store! What's this? Smollett's
_Don Quixote_. I always wanted to know about that. Is it not something
about giants and windmills? Have you read it?'
'I once read an odd volume. He was half mad, and too good for this
world, and thought he was living in a romance. I will read you some
bits. You would not like it all.'
'Oh, I do hope you will have time to read to me! Gibbon's _Decline and
Fall of the Roman Empire_. All these volumes! They are quite damp. You
have read it?'
'Yes, and I wish I could remember all those Emperors. I must put aside
this letter for Hailes--it is a man applying for a house.'
'How strange it sounds! Look, here is such an immense _Shakespeare_!
Oh! full of engravings,' as she fell upon Boydell's
_Shakespeare_--another name reverenced, though she only knew a few
selected plays, prepared for elocution exercises.
Her husband, having had access to the Institute Library, and spent many
evenings over books, was better read than she, whose knowledge went no
farther than that of the highest class, but who knew all very accurately
that she did know, and was intelligent enough to find in those shelves a
delightful promise of pasture. He was by this time sighing over requests
for subscriptions.
'Such numbers! Such good purposes! But how can I give?'
'Cannot you give at least a guinea?' asked Mary, after hearing some.
'I do not know whether in this position a small sum in the list is not
more disadvantageous than nothing at all. Besides, I know nothing of the
real merits. I must ask Hailes. Ah! and here is Emma, I thought that
she would be a little impatient. She says she shall let her house for
the winter, and thinks of going to London or to Brighton, where she may
have masters for the girls.'
'Oh, I thought you meant them to go to a good school?'
'So I do, if I can get Emma's consent; but I doubt her choosing to part
with Ida. She wants to come here.'
'I suppose we ought to have her?'
'Yes, but not immediately. I do not mean to neglect her--at least, I do
hope to do all that is right; but I think you ought to have a fair start
here before she comes, so that we will invite her for Christmas, and then
we can arrange about Ida and Constance.'
'Dear little Connie, I hope she is as nice a little girl as she used to
be!'
'With good training, I think, she will be; and the tutor gives me good
accounts of Herbert in this letter.'
'Shall we have him here on Sunday week?'
'Yes, I am very anxious to see him. I hope his master gives him more
religious instruction than he has ever had, poor boy!'
Though not brilliant or playful, Lord and Lady Northmoor had, it may be
perceived, no lack of good sense in their strange new surroundings. It
was hard not to feel like guests on sufferance, and next morning, a
Sunday, was wet. However, under their waterproofs and umbrellas trudging
along, they felt once more, as Mary said, like themselves, as if they had
escaped from their keepers. Nobody on the way had the least idea who the
two cloaked figures were, and when they crept into the seat nearest the
door they were summarily ejected by a fat, red-faced man, who growled
audibly, 'You've no business in my pew!'
However, with the words, 'Beg your pardon,' they stepped out with a
little amusement in their eyes, when a spruce young woman sprang up from
the opposite pew, with a scandalised whisper--
'Mr. Ruddiman, it's his Lordship! Allow me, my Lord--your own seat--'
And she marshalled them up to the choir followed closely by Mr. Ruddiman,
ruddier than ever, and butcher all over, in a perfect agony of apology,
which Lord Northmoor in vain endeavoured to suppress or silence, till,
when the guide had pointed to a handsome heavy carved seat with elaborate
cushions, he gave a final gasp of, 'You'll not remember it in the custom,
my Lord,' and departed, leaving his Lordship almost equally scarlet with
annoyance at the place and time of the demonstration, though, happily,
the clergyman had not yet appeared, in his long and much-tumbled
surplice.
It was a case of a partial restoration of a church in the dawn of such
doings, when the horsebox was removed, but the great family could not be
routed out of the chancel, so there were the seats, where the choir ought
to have sat, beneath a very ugly east window, bedecked with the Morton
arms. In the other division of the seat was a pale lady in black, with a
little girl, Lady Adela Morton, no doubt, and opposite were the servants,
and the school children sat crowded on the steps. It was not such a
service as had been the custom of the Hurminster churches; and the
singing, such as it was, depended on the thin shrill voices of the
children, assisted by Lady Adela and the mistress; the sermon was dull
and long, and altogether there was something disheartening about the
whole.
Lady Adela had a gentle, sweet countenance and a simple devout manner;
but it was disappointing that she did not attempt to address the
newcomers, though they passed her just outside the churchyard, talking to
an old man. Lady Kenton would surely have welcomed them.