THE DAWN OF A BRIGHTER DAY
“We liked Myrtle Grove so well that we made it our home for three years.
Its quiet beauty seemed so soothing and restful after the terrible
grandeur of Enderby Castle and the mournful desolation of Weirdwaste. I
had a little school of poor children, and a small number of aged and
invalid cottagers, whose necessities gave me interest and occupation.
“My father was now a recluse and a student, passing most of his time in
the small library among his favorite authors, or, if the weather was
very fine, sitting in his leather chair under one of the trees in the
thickly shaded grounds at the back of the house, with a book in his
hand.
“My brother came every Christmas and every midsummer to spend his
vacation with us. As I mentioned before, he knew nothing of my short,
disastrous marriage, and was to know nothing of it.
“His talk, when he was at home, was full of Angus Anglesea, his one dear
friend. When he was praising this hypocrite I was forced to make some
excuse to get out of the room, or to keep a painful silence in it, for I
could not contradict him or expose Anglesea’s villainy to me without
betraying facts that it was desirable should be kept from him.
“Even my father, who knew now every circumstance attending my imprudent
marriage, knew nothing of Anglesea’s insulting proposal to me. Pride,
delicacy and consideration for that dear father’s feelings prevented me
from telling him. Yet I made him understand that, under my peculiar
circumstances, I did not want any visitors, especially gentlemen
visitors, at Myrtle Grove—of course always excepting the vicar, the
doctor, the lawyer and my dear brother, who could scarcely, indeed, be
called a visitor.
“In this manner, without having to mention Anglesea’s name, I kept my
brother’s dear friend from coming to Myrtle Grove.
“Before the commencement of every vacation, undaunted by previous
refusals, Glennon would write from his college, and ask leave to bring
his friend home with him.
“My father would then bring the letter to me, and ask my opinion. I
would always tell him—what was the truth—that my soul shrank from
visitors.
“And he would write something to the same effect in his reply to
Glennon.
“My brother took this very hard, and on his arrival at home would always
complain that it was—in schoolboy slang—‘a jolly shame’ he could not
have Anglesea to spend the holidays with him as he had always been
accustomed to do.
“He said that he did not know what had come over ‘Friday.’ She had been
very fond of Anglesea when they were at Brighton together. So fond of
him that he—Glennon—had hoped Anglesea might one day be his
brother-in-law, as he was now his brother in heart.
“I said nothing in self-defense at all, but left it to my father to
explain—what he assumed to be the truth—that I had no especial objection
to Anglesea, but that the state of my health unfitted me to entertain
company.
“This generally satisfied him, at least for the time being.
“At length, when little more than three years had passed, my father
began to grow weary of our long seclusion from the world, and proposed
that we should make another tour of the Continent—avoiding as much as
possible the crowded resorts of tourists and betaking ourselves to
quieter scenes.
“I consented to this, as I did to every plan proposed by my father. I
made but one condition. The Easter holidays were approaching, and my
brother was expected to come to Myrtle Grove to spend the time with us
as usual. I therefore proposed to my father that Glennon should now
invite his friend to accompany him to Myrtle Grove, while I myself
should go for a week and take lodgings at the dairyman’s cottage in
Kent, where my child was at nurse.
“You may wonder why I should have done this, knowing the character of
Anglesea as I did. I have sometimes wondered at the same act. But I
think it was from affection for Glennon I acted. I knew how he longed to
have Anglesea with him at Myrtle Grove. I wished to gratify that
longing. I knew that nothing I could do could either cement or sever the
bonds of that strong friendship. I knew also that Anglesea never had and
never would show his cloven foot to Glennon, or that even if he should
do so, Glennon would never tolerate it; he would fly from it. I felt
instinctively that Anglesea could never harm my brother.
“More than willingly, gladly, my father agreed to my plan. He wanted to
gratify his son. So I wrote immediately to see if I could obtain
lodgings, ‘for change of air,’ at the dairy farm. In good time came a
favorable answer.
“Then my father wrote to Glennon, authorizing him to invite his friend
to spend the Easter holidays with him at Myrtle Grove.
“I did not wait for the arrival of the visitor, but on the Wednesday
before Easter I set out alone for Kent, meaning to engage some country
girl in the neighborhood of the dairy to wait on me while in lodgings.
“I reached the dairy about four o’clock on that Wednesday afternoon, and
found my son, now a fine boy over three years old, in the rosiest health
and most boisterous spirits. He sprang into his ‘auntie’s’ arms and
covered her with caresses before he began to search her pockets and her
hand bag for the sweetmeats and toys she was accustomed to bring him.
“A dainty tea table was waiting for me in a charming cottage parlor. So
Mary Chester coaxed my ‘nephew’ from his ‘auntie’s’ arms and showed me
into a clean, neat, fresh bedroom, snow white, as all delectable
bedrooms were in the days before the ‘decoration’ craze spread over the
land. There I laid off my bonnet and washed off the railroad dust.
“And then I returned to the parlor, where my ‘nephew’ was allowed to
join me at the tea table, sitting up in a high armchair.
“That night Mary Chester waited on me as lady’s maid, but the next day I
procured the country girl I had been thinking of.
“I spent a really happy week at the dairy with my child and his
foster-brother. These two children were so fond of each other that it
was a comfort and delight to me to think of them together.
“Mary Chester had no other children, and she was entirely devoted to
them. John Chester, her husband, was a fine, wholesome, honest young
man, bearing an excellent character in the neighborhood. We all went to
the parish house together on Easter Sunday, leaving the two baby boys at
home in charge of Mary Chester’s grandmother, who was too infirm to sit
through the long church service, but who was quite equal to the care of
two children for a few hours.
“As Easter week drew to a close I began to think of returning to Myrtle
Grove.
“But I did not leave the dairy until I received a letter from my father,
informing me that the visitors had departed.
“Then I loaded my little son, his foster-brother and his attendants with
presents suited to the conditions of each. I returned heartfelt thanks
to Mary Chester for her excellent care of my ‘nephew,’ and paid her six
months in advance.
“Finally, on the Thursday after Easter, I bade them all good-by and set
out to return to Myrtle Grove.
“I found my father in excellent health, but impatient to start on our
journey.
“I hurried my preparations, and two days after we left England for
Germany, where it was my fate first to meet you, Abel Force, who made
all the happiness of my life.”