LAST DAYS AT ASHTON GRANGE.
Mrs. Estcourt, Mr. Vivyan's only sister, was a widow lady living by
herself. Her home was in the neighbourhood of a large town, and here, in a
comfortable, moderately-sized house, she had lived for many years. She had
no children of her own, and when her husband had died she had seemed to
wish to avoid much intercourse with any one, so that Arthur knew very
little of his aunt. Once or twice he had seen her when she had paid very
short visits at Ashton Grange. He remembered a very sad-looking lady, with
a sweet face, who had held his hand as he stood by her chair, and that he
had half liked it, and felt half awkward as she spoke to him. He
remembered that as he had stood there, he had felt afraid to move or
fidget in the least bit, and that every now and then, as he had stolen a
glance at her, he had seen that her large dark eyes had been fixed upon
him. He had been very glad when the nursery dinner-bell rang and he was
obliged to go, without seeming to wish to run away.
"Nurse," said Arthur that day at dinner, "there's a black lady down
stairs."
"A black lady!" said nurse; "there's a way to speak of your aunt, Master
Arthur. Mrs. Estcourt is your papa's own sister."
"Well, she looked all black, I know," said Arthur. "I think I won't go
down stairs much while she is there."
Nurse remarked that if he were going to stay she hoped he would be quiet
and well-behaved; but as he had to keep all his quiet behaviour for the
drawing-room, it is to be feared nurse's temper was tried a little during
the few days that Mrs. Estcourt passed at Ashton Grange. Consequently
Arthur's memories of his aunt were not such as to make him very happy at
the prospect of living with her always.
"Mother," said Arthur, on the evening of the day after he had heard about
these strange things that were going to happen, "is the aunt that I am
going to live with, that one that came here once?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Vivyan; "She is very kind, Arthur, and I know she will
love you very much, if----"
"Yes, if I am good, I know," said Arthur; "and that's just the difference.
You know, mamma, you always love me, whatever I am."
"Of course," said his mother, smiling; "but you could not expect any one
to love you in the way your mother does. You would not like her to be your
mother, would you?"
"No, of course not. Now, mother, tell me something about what her place is
like, and where it is, and what sort of things I shall do when I am there.
I have loads of questions to ask, only I forget them now."
"Well, begin then," said his mother; "perhaps one will remind you of
another."
"First of all, then, what is the name of her place?"
"Myrtle Hill, near Stanton."
"Myrtle Hill! what a funny name. Is it at all like this, mother?"
"No, dear, not much. I am afraid it is a much more orderly kind of place.
But I will try to describe it to you. It is a good many years since I was
there, and I did not notice things so very much. It is a white house with
myrtle trained over the lower parts, and a great many myrtle trees growing
in the avenue; that is why it is called Myrtle Hill. I know there is a
large garden with a good many shady places under the trees, that I
remember thinking would be delightful in the summer. There is a front
garden too."
"That's nice," said Arthur.
"Oh, but I don't expect your aunt will like little boys to have the run of
her garden!"
"I daresay she will," said Arthur. "She is going to be very fond of me,
you know."
"Well, that is question number one. Now, what is the second?"
"Yes; where does she live?"
"It is a good way from this; about six hours by the train, and five miles
from Stanton."
"Oh, yes! and that reminds me of another question. How am I to learn? Will
she teach me? I hope not."
"No," said Mrs. Vivyan; "we have thought you are old enough to go to
school now. There is a very good school between your aunt's house and the
town. It is about two miles from Myrtle Hill, and you would go there every
morning and come back early in the evening."
"Ah, I like that very much," said Arthur joyfully; "that really is jolly,
mother. Who keeps the school?"
"A very nice gentleman. Your father has known him for a long time."
"He is tremendously strict, I suppose?"
"Well, I daresay he likes to be obeyed," said Mrs. Vivyan; "but that is
quite right, isn't it?"
"Yes, of course," Arthur answered. "What is his name, mother?"
"Mr. Carey."
"Well, I don't like that name," said Arthur emphatically; "but I suppose
he can't help that. Does he wear spectacles?"
"No, I should think not," said Mrs. Vivyan, smiling; "he is not old
enough. I think he is not quite so old as your father."
"I suppose he is rather young then. I am glad of that. I should never be
so much afraid of youngish people as of old ones."
"Any more questions?" asked Mrs. Vivyan presently. "There is one question
you have not asked, Arthur, darling, that I was expecting, and it is the
one question that my heart is paining to have to answer."
"What can it be, mother?" said Arthur wonderingly. "I think I have asked a
great many. What can it be?"
And then he thought for a little while very earnestly. At length a
troubled look came into his eyes, and he looked at his mother, and said
softly--
"I know, mother, I know, and I am rather afraid to ask; but I must, for I
want to know. When am I going?" The question came out very slowly.
"Arthur, my own darling little boy," said his mother, pressing her arm
very closely around him, and he could hear the quiver in her voice as she
spoke, "it is very soon. We did not tell you until just at the end, when
we were obliged to do it; because what was the use of making you unhappy
before we need?"
"Well, when is it?" said Arthur.
"It is the day after to-morrow."
"Oh, mother, mother!" was all Arthur said; and he became very still
indeed.
By and by he said, in a very troubled voice, "I wish I had known it
before."
"Why, dear?"
"Because then--oh, mother!" said Arthur, bursting into tears, "I would
have stayed with you all the day, and I would not have done anything you
don't like."
And then the tears came into his mother's eyes, and she said tenderly--
"But I knew it, Arthur dear, and I kept you with me as much as I could.
And, my darling, you do not often do things I don't like."
"Oh, yes I do, mother, very often!" said Arthur, sobbing still.
"Well, dear, if you do, I know that with it all you really do love me."
Arthur gave her hand a passionate squeeze, and said, "Indeed, indeed I do,
mother."
And then Arthur said no more, but fell into a grave fit of musing.
Presently he roused himself, and said, "But, mamma, how can I go in two
days? Are there not things to be done? Mustn't I have a lot of new
clothes, and ever so many things?"
"But, don't you see," said Mrs. Vivyan with a smile, half amused and half
sad, "I have known it for a long time, and I have been making arrangements
that my little boy knew nothing about."
"Oh, well," said Arthur with a deep sigh.
"Would you like to see some of the things that you are going to take away
with you?" asked his mother.
"Yes, I think I should," said Arthur; but he spoke so hesitatingly; for
dearly as he liked preparations for a journey, he remembered with a bitter
pang what the preparations were for, and what the cause of the journey
was.
Mrs. Vivyan opened the door of a small room adjoining her own, which was
generally kept locked, and where, Arthur knew, he was not expected to go
without being allowed. There was a large table near the window; it was
covered with various things; there was a leather writing-case, a new
paint-box, and a Polyglot Bible; there were several new books too, and a
very large pile of new clothes, but they did not take up much of Arthur's
attention. His quick eyes soon detected a fishing rod and cricket bat,
that stood in the corner of the room near by; indeed there seemed to be
nothing that his kind father and mother had not provided. He noticed
something else that was there, and that was a Russia-leather purse; and
when he took it to examine the inside he found that it was not empty--the
first thing he saw was a five pound note!
"Oh, mamma!" said Arthur breathlessly; "who is all that money for?"
"Who do you think?" she asked, smiling.
"Well, I suppose for me," said Arthur; "but, mother, is all that really
for me? It will last until you come back."
"Do you think so?" said Mrs. Vivyan. "Well, I hope you will use it well,
and show that you can be trusted with so much."
"Is it to buy new clothes with, when I want any?" asked Arthur.
"No; I don't think you could quite manage that," said his mother,
laughing; "besides, look at all the new clothes you have; don't you think
they will last until I come back?"
"I don't know; I do use a great many clothes, certainly," said Arthur
thoughtfully, as he remembered various rents in more than one of his
little coats; "and boots, oh, yes, my boots must cost a great deal."
The next day Arthur devoted to taking a farewell ramble through the
grounds; and in roaming through all the places in the country around, that
he knew so well. He visited every little hiding-place, to which he and his
companion had given names of their own, and then he sat down on the top of
a high mound near the house, where on one of his birthdays a flagstaff had
been planted. The gay-coloured flag was floating in the breeze now, and
Arthur wondered whether if any one else came to live at Ashton Grange they
would take down the flagstaff; "at any rate," he thought, "I will take
down the flag. I think it is nicer that it should be folded up while we
are all away. Oh, yes, and then it will be all ready to put up again, when
we all come back, if we ever do come back again to this place. Let me see,
I shall be almost a man then. Fancy me a man. I wonder what kind of a man
I shall be. Like papa, I daresay; and yet they say I am like mother. I
should think a man like mother would be very queer."
And Arthur began painting fancy pictures of the time when his father's
term in India should be over; and though it was very pleasant to do it,
and the things that he intended to happen then, were very much to his
fancy, yet it was with a little sigh of regret that he said to himself,
"But any way, I shall never be mother's little boy any more."
Then Arthur took out his new pocket knife and carved his name upon the
flagstaff. "How odd if anybody sees it while we are away," he thought;
"they will wonder whose name it is. Shall I put Arthur T. Vivyan? No, I
think not, that might be Thomas. I should not like any one to think my
name was Thomas."
So, after an hour's diligent labour, the name appeared, "Arthur Trevor
Vivyan."
And then he sat down to take a last long look at everything. It was late
in the afternoon, and the sun was shining with its soft spring gilding,
sparkling through the ivy, and making the shadows of the woods look
deeper. It was shining with a ruddy glow on the windows of the house,
every window that he knew so well. There was his mother's room. Arthur
always thought hers was the nicest window, and he used to be very glad
that the roses climbed up there, and clustered lovingly around it. There
was the little window on the landing over the hall door; where he
remembered, on more than one occasion, he had made nurse very angry,
by wishing to try if he could not climb out there, and plant himself on
the top of the porch, so as to look like a statue. Then there was the
drawing-room window, with the green Venetian blinds half drawn up, and
the bright colours appearing from inside. Lastly, he looked to the
nursery, where, oh, so often! he had watched for little Mildred's
white-robed figure to appear. How pleased she used to be, when he
stood where he was now! It was a sad, sad sever to Arthur's heart; only
everything seemed so dark and sad just now, that he had not thought much
about Mildred lately; but his eyes followed the sunlight on, far away,
until they rested on one fair green spot amongst the trees, where he knew
that a little green mound was covering his baby sister's form; and as all
the sad things that had happened so lately came into Arthur's mind, and he
thought of how different it had been a little while ago, he covered his
face with his hands, and the sobs came thick and fast.
So that when after a little while he came indoors, and wandered into the
room where he expected to find his mother, she saw that his eyes were red
with crying, and she knew that his heart was as sad as her own. But she
said brightly, "Arthur, I want you to help me. See, here are piles of your
things, and I want you to help me to count them over, and to put down how
many there are of each; that is what we call an inventory, and you must
have an inventory, of course." Arthur was quite pleased with this idea,
and presently he was very busy helping his mother. When it was all done,
when the last little garment was laid neatly in the box, and the nice
presents that had been given to him were stored away underneath, and
Arthur's mother was resting in her armchair in the firelight, he drew his
stool to her feet, and laid his head lovingly on her lap; and his mother
felt the hot tears fall on her hands, and she saw that the brown curls
were trembling with his crying, and she knew that the same thought was in
his mind that had just been aching in hers--"For the last time!"
But Arthur did not cry long, for he was trying hard not to make her more
unhappy than she was, and presently he stopped, and became very still, and
after a little while he said softly--
"Talk to me, mamma."
"What shall I say, dear?"
"Oh, you know, mother! you always know the right things to say."
"And yet, Arthur," said his mother, after a very long pause, and speaking
in a soft, low voice, as if she was afraid to speak louder, "I do not know
what to say now, dear; for I never could say all that is in my heart. I
can only say it to God about you, my own child."
"Do you often pray for me, mother? I don't think I ever miss praying for
you any day."
"You are always in my heart, Arthur; and so when my heart rises to God, it
bears you with it."
"How nice it is to have a mother," said Arthur in a restful voice, "even
although--" and then he stopped; for he thought it was better to say no
more.
"After all, it is not so very, very far to India," said Arthur. "How long
would a telegram take getting there?"
"About two or three hours."
"Oh, dear, I wish I could be turned into a telegram!" sighed Arthur.
"Oh, but," said Mrs. Vivyan, laughing, "that would be only doing one
little bit of good, and I want my Arthur to be of some use all the day
long."
"How can I," asked Arthur, "without you?"
"Do you know who you belong to before me?" said his mother. "You know,
Arthur, you have told me, and I believe it is true, that you have put your
trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, and that His blood has washed all your
sins away. Then, if that is true of you, you are your own no longer. You
belong to Him; for He has bought you with a price. Is it not sweet, my
darling, to feel that He says to you now, while you are being left at
home, 'Thou art mine'? You know I love to take care of you, because you
are mine; and don't you think He does much more? You know the Bible says
that a mother may forget, but God _never_."
"Oh, mother, it is so nice to hear you talk," said Arthur. "Go on,
please."
"Well, I was going to say, the Lord Jesus is always the best Friend; and
now that you are going to leave me, perhaps you will think of Him, and
look to Him, more than you have ever done before. Oh, Arthur, my child,
get to know Him better; talk to Him as you have talked to me; tell Him
about your little troubles, and joys, and sorrows; tell Him when you feel
lonely and weary, and sit at His feet, just as you are now sitting at
mine. Do you think He would turn you away? Just pour out your heart before
Him, whatever is in it, because He loves you as only He can love."
"But, mamma, I can't see Him as I see you."
"No, my child; but that is where faith comes in. You must believe when you
do not see; and remember that He said, 'Blessed are they that have not
seen, and yet have believed.'"
"Mother, I think you were going to say something else," said Arthur, after
a little while.
"Yes; I was talking about the first half of the text I had in my mind, and
that I give you to keep from me--'Whose I am, and whom I serve,' I want
you to know the sweetness of the first, my darling, and then I think you
will want the last to be true of you, and He will show you the way."
"Yes, I know," said Arthur meditatively, "I ought to be patient, and
gentle, and thoughtful; and, you know, mamma, it is just my nature to be
the opposite, and I don't know how on earth I can be all that to that
aunt."
"Oh, hush, dear! Of course you could not be expected to love her much at
first; but that ought not to make any difference; for it is to please the
Lord Jesus that you are to be all this, and the harder it is for you the
more He will know that you really do try to please Him. Then, are there
not other ways? I mean things that you could do to bring honour to Him.
Think of your being the means of bringing God's salvation to anybody, or
of making the heart of any of His people glad."
"Yes," Arthur said, "and I think I could try. I could give away tracts, or
I could visit sick old women."
"Yes, and you might speak for Him."
"If He will help me," said Arthur reverently; "but that is a great deal
more difficult, mother."
They did not talk much more that night, for it was getting late, and
Arthur sat looking at the lights and shadows in the burning coals. Out of
doors the fair spring evening had darkened into a gusty night; and the
wind was sighing in the trees, and blowing the rose-bushes against the
windows. It was very comfortable sitting there on the hearth-rug with his
head on his mother's lap. Arthur felt so very safe, and it seemed to him
that he could not be very unhappy, whatever happened to him, so long as he
could be there. And he did not dare think of what it would be, when miles
and miles of land and sea would stretch between him and this sweet,
well-known resting-place. He would enjoy it for this last time without
thinking of the dark, dreary to-morrow that was coming.