TWO BUNDLES OF HAY
Ida was, as all agreed, much improved in looks, style, and manners by her
travels. Her illness had begun the work of fining her down from the
bouncing heartiness of her girlhood, and she really was a handsome
creature, with dark glowing colouring; her figure had improved, whether
because or in spite of her efforts in that way might be doubtful; and she
had learnt how to dress herself in fairly good taste.
Though neither Mademoiselle Gattoni nor the boarding-house society she
had frequented was even second-rate in style, still there was an advance
over her former Westhaven circle, with a good deal more restraint, so
that she had almost insensibly acquired a much more ladylike air and
deportment.
Moreover, the two years' absence had made some changes. The young men
who had been in the habit of exchanging noisy jests with Ida had mostly
drifted away in different directions or sobered down; girl companions had
married off; and a new terrace had been completed with inhabitants and
sojourners of a somewhat higher grade, who accepted Mrs. and Miss Morton
as well connected.
Mr. Rollstone's lodgings were let to Mr. Deyncourt, a young clergyman who
had come full of zeal to work up the growing district. He had been for a
short time in the Northmoor neighbourhood, and had taken the duty there
for a few weeks, so that he heard the name of Morton as prominent in good
works, and had often seen Lady Adela and Constance with the
Sunday-school. As Mr. Rollstone was not slow to mention the connection,
he was not slow to call on Mrs. Morton and Miss Morton, in hopes of their
co-operation, and as Mr. Rollstone had informed them that he was of 'high
family' and of good private means, Mrs. Morton had a much better welcome
for him than for his poor little predecessor, who lived over a
shoemaker's shop, and, as she averred, never came except to ask
subscriptions for some nonsense or other.
Mr. Deyncourt was a tall fine-looking man, and did not begin by asking
subscriptions, but talked about Northmoor, Constance, and Lady Adela, so
that Ida found herself affecting much closer knowledge of both than she
really had.
'I found,' he said, 'that your sister is most valuable in the
Sunday-school. I wonder if you would kindly assist us.'
Mrs. Morton began, 'My daughter is not strong, Mr. Deyncourt.'
And Ida simpered and said, hesitating, 'I--I don't know.'
If poor Mr. Brown had ever been demented enough even to make the same
request, he would have met with a very different answer.
'I do not think it will be very fatiguing,' said Mr. Deyncourt. 'Do you
know Mrs. Brandon? No! I will ask her to call and explain our plans.
She is kind enough to let me meet the other teachers in her dining-room
once a week to arrange the lessons for the Sunday. There are Miss
Selwood and Mrs. and Miss Hume.'
These were all in the social position in which Ida was trying to
establish her footing, and though she only agreed to 'think about it,'
her mind was pretty well made up that it would be a very different thing
from the old parish school where Rose Rollstone used to work among a set
of small tradesmen's daughters.
When she found herself quite the youngest and best-looking of the party,
she was entirely won over. There was no necessity for speaking so as to
betray one's ignorance during Mr. Deyncourt's instructions, and she was a
person of sufficient force and spirit to impose good order on her class;
and thus she actually obtained the gratitude of the young clergyman as an
efficient assistant.
Their domiciles being so near together, there were many encounters in
going in and out, nor were these avoided on either side. Ida had a
wonderful amount of questions to ask, and used to lie in wait to get them
solved. It was very interesting to lay them before a handsome young
clergyman with a gentle voice, sweet smile, and ready attention, and
religion seemed to have laid aside that element of dulness and moping
which had previously repelled her.
She was embroidering a stole for Easter, and wanted a great deal of
counsel for it; and she undertook to get a basket of flowers for Easter
decorations from Northmoor, where her request caused some surprise and
much satisfaction in the simple pair, who never thought of connecting the
handsome young mission priest with this sudden interest in the Church.
And Mr. Deyncourt had no objection to drop in for afternoon tea when he
was met on the sands and had to be consulted about the stole, or to be
asked who was worthy of broth, or as time went on to choose soup and
practise a duet for the mission concert that was to keep people out of
mischief on the Bank-holiday.
Ida had a voice, and music was the one talent she had cared to cultivate;
she had had good lessons during her second winter abroad, and was an
acquisition to the amateur company. Besides, what she cared for more, it
was a real pleasure and rest to the curate to come in and listen to her
or sing with her. She had learnt what kind of things offended good
taste, and she set herself to avoid them and to school her mother into
doing the same.
What Mr. Deyncourt thought or felt was not known, though thus much was
certain, that he showed himself attentive enough to this promising young
convert, and made Mrs. Brandon and other prudent, high-bred matrons
somewhat uneasy.
And in the midst the _Morna_ put in at Westhaven, and while Ida was
walking home from Mrs. Brandon's, she encountered Mr. Brady, looking
extremely well turned-out in yachting costume and smoking a short pipe.
There was something very flattering in the sound of the exclamation with
which he greeted her; and then, as they shook hands, 'I should not have
known you, Miss Morton; you are--' and he hesitated for a
compliment--'such a stunner! What have you been doing to yourself?'
At the gate of the narrow garden, Mr. Deyncourt overtook them, carrying
Ida's bag of books for her. She introduced them, and was convinced that
they glared at each other.
And there ensued a time of some perplexity, but much enjoyment, on Ida's
part. Mr. Brady reviled the parson and all connected therewith in not
very choice language, and the parson, on his side, though saying nothing,
seemed to her to be on the watch, and gratified, if not relieved, when
she remained steady to her parochial work.
And what was her mind? Personally, she had come to like and approve Mr.
Deyncourt the most, and to have a sense that there was satisfaction in
that to which he could lead her, while the better taste that had grown in
her was sometimes offended, almost insulted, by Tom Brady's tendency to
coarseness, and to treating her not as a lady, but as the Westhaven belle
he had honoured with his attentions two years before. Yet she had an old
kindness for him as her first love. And, moreover, he could give her
eventually a title and very considerable wealth, a house in London, and
all imaginable gaiety. While, as to Mr. Deyncourt, he was not poor and
had expectations, but the utmost she could look to for him with
confidence was Northmoor Vicarage after Mr. Woodman's time, and anywhere
the dull, sober, hard-working life of a clergyman's wife!
Which should she choose--that is, if she had her choice, or if either
were in earnest? She was not sure of the curate, and therefore perhaps
longed most that he should come to the point, feeling that this would
anyway increase her self-esteem, and if she hesitated to bind herself to
a life too high, and perhaps too dull, there was the dread, on the other
hand, that his family, who, she understood, were very grand people, would
object to a girl with nothing of her own and a governess sister.
On the other hand, the Bradys were so rich that they had little need to
care for fortune--only, the richer people were, the greater their
expectations--and she was more at ease with Tom than with Mr. Deyncourt.
They would probably condone the want of fortune if she could write
'Honourable' before her name, or had any prospect of so doing, and the
governess-ship might be a far greater drawback in their eyes than in
those of the Deyncourts. 'However, thank goodness,' said she to herself,
'that won't begin for two or three years, and one or other will be hailed
long before that--if-- Oh, it is very hard to be kept out of everything
by an old stick like Uncle Frank and a little wretch like Mite, who,
after all, is a miserable Tyrolese, and not a Morton at all! It really
is too bad!'