Most persons possessed of feeling will readily agree that scarcely
anything could be more unpleasant than for a gentleman, bent upon making
himself attractive to a lady, to meet with such a misfortune as to be
taken, while in a stooping position, for a defiant beast, and to have to
encounter the full force of a woolly avalanche, or so much live mutton
discharged, as from a catapult, right upon the crown of his head. Max
Bray was extremely sore afterwards--sore in person and temper: but the
most extraordinary part of the affair is, that his head never ached from
the fierce blow. It would perhaps be invidious to offer remarks about
thickness, or to make comparisons; but certainly for two or three days
after, when he encountered Ella Bedford, Max Bray did wear, in spite of
his effrontery, a decidedly sheepish air. But not for a longer period.
At the end of that time a great deal of the soreness had worn off, and
he was nearly himself again.
But with Ella Bedford the case was different. She was hourly awakening
to the fact that hers was to be no pleasant sojourn at the Elms; and
with tearful eyes she thought of the happy old days at home before
sickness fell upon the little country vicarage, and then death removed
the simple, good-hearted village clergyman from his flock, to be
followed all too soon by his mourning wife.
"I have nothing to leave you, my child--nothing!" were almost the
father's last words. "Always poor and in delicate health, I could only
keep out of debt. But your mother, help her--be kind to her," he
whispered.
Ella Bedford's help and kindness were only called for during a few
months; and then it fell to her lot to seek for some situation where the
accomplishments, for the most part taught by her father, might be the
means of providing her with a home and some small pittance.
By means of advertising, she had succeeded in obtaining the post of
governess at the Elms, and it was while on her way to fill that post
that she had encountered the hopeful scion of the house of Bray. It
was, then, with a feeling almost of horror that she met him again at the
Elms, and her first thought was that she must flee directly--leave the
house at once; her next that she ought to relate her adventure to some
one. But who would sympathise with her, and rightly view it all? She
shrank from harsh loud-voiced Mrs Bray; and, almost from the first
meeting, Laura had seemed to take a dislike to her--one which she made
no scruple of displaying--while, as a rule, she tried all she could to
how the immeasurable distance she considered that there existed between
her and the dependent.
On the day of the sheep encounter, agitated, wounded, and with great
difficulty keeping back her tears, Ella hurried on; and had Max Bray's
position been one of danger, it is very doubtful whether any assistance
would have been rendered him through Ella, so thoroughly was she taken
up with her own position. She felt that she must be questioned
respecting her charges reaching home alone; they would certainly talk
about her staying behind with their brother, and the culminating point
would be reached when Miss Nelly declared what she had seen.
Well might the poor girl's heart beat as she hastened on; for it seemed
as if, through the persecution of a fop, her prospects in life were to
be blighted at the outset. But there's a silver lining to every cloud,
it is said; and before Ella had gone half a mile, to her great joy she
saw Nelly seated with her sisters by a bank, gathering wild flowers, and
then tossing them away.
Fortune favoured her too when they reached the Elms: luncheon--the
children's dinner--had been put back for half an hour because Mr
Maximilian had not returned.
"Mr Maximilian" did not show himself at all at table that day, and,
glad of the respite, Ella sought her bedroom directly after, to think
over the past, and try and decide what ought to be her course under the
circumstances. What would she not have given for the loving counsel of
some gentle, true-hearted woman! But she felt that she was quite
alone--alone in the vast weary world; and as such thoughts sprang up
came the recollection of the happy bygone, sweeping all before it; and
at last, unable to bear up any longer, she sank upon her knees by the
bedside, weeping and sobbing as if her poor torn heart would break.
She struggled hard to keep the tears back, but in vain now--they would
come, and with them fierce hysterical sobs, such as had never burst
before from her breast. Then would come a cessation, as she asked
herself whether she ought not to acquaint Mrs Bray with her son's
behaviour?--or would it be making too much of the affair? Then she
reviewed her own conduct, and tried to find in it some flaw--some want
of reserve which had brought upon her the insults to which she had been
subjected. But, as might be expected, the search was vain, and once
more she bowed down her head and sobbed bitterly for the happy past, the
painful present, and the dreary future.
It was in the midst of her passionate outbursts that she suddenly felt
some one kneel beside her, and through her tears she saw, with wonder,
the friendly and weeping face of Nelly, who had crept unperceived into
the room.
"O, Miss Bedford! Dear, dear Miss Bedford, please don't--don't!" sobbed
the girl, as, throwing her long thin arms round Ella, she drew her face
to her own hard bony breast, soothing, kissing, and fondling her
tenderly, as might a mother. "Please--please don't cry so, or you'll
break my heart; for, though you don't think it, I do love you so--so
much! You're so gentle, and kind, and wise, and beautiful, that--that--
that--O, and you're crying more than ever!"
Poor Nelly burst out almost into a howl of grief as she spoke; but, like
her words, it was genuine, and as she pressed her rough sympathies upon
her weeping governess, Ella's sobs grew less laboured, and she clung
convulsively to the slight form at her side.
"There--there--there!" half sobbed Nelly. "Try not to cry, dear; do
please try, dear Miss Bedford; for indeed, indeed it does hurt me so!
You made me to love you, and I can't bear to see you like this!"
So energetic, indeed, was Nelly's grief, that, as she spoke, she kicked
out behind, overturning a bedroom chair; but it passed unnoticed.
"They say I'm a child; but I'm not, you know!" she said half
passionately. "I'm sixteen nearly, and I can see as well as other
people. Yes, and feel too! I'm not a child; and if Laury raps my
knuckles again, I'll bite her, see if I don't! But I know what you're
crying about, Miss Bedford, and I saw you wanted to cry all dinner-time,
only you couldn't; it's about Max; and you thought I should tell that he
put his arm round your waist. But I shan't--no, not never to a single
soul, if they put me in the rack! He's a donkey, Max is, and a
disagreeable, stupid, cox-comby, stubborn, bubble-headed donkey, that he
is! I saw him kiss Miss Twentyman, who used to be our governess, and
she slapped his face--and serve him right too, a donkey, to want to kiss
anybody--such stupid silly nonsense! It's quite right enough for girls
and women to kiss; but for a man--pah! I don't believe Max was ever
meant to be anything but a girl, though; and I told him so once, and he
boxed my ears, and I threw the butter-plate at him, and the butter stuck
in his whiskers, and it was such fun I forgot to cry, though he did hurt
me ever so. But I'm not a child, Miss Bedford, and I do love you ever
so much, and I'll never say a single word about you and Max; and if he
ever bothers you again, you say to him, `How's Miss Brown?' and he'll
colour up, and be as cross as can be. I often say it to make him cross.
He used to go to see her, and she wouldn't have him because she said he
was such a muff, and she married Major Tompkins instead. But it does
make him cross--and serve him right too, a nasty donkey! Why, if he'd
held my hand like he did yours to-day, I'd have pinched him, and nipped
him, and bitten him, that I would! He sha'n't never send me away any
more, though; I shall always stop with you, and take care of you, if
you'll love me very much; and I will work so hard--so jolly hard--with
my studies, Miss Bedford, I will indeed; for I'm so behindhand, and it
was all through Miss Twentyman being such a cross old frump! But you
needn't be afraid of me, dear; for I'm not a child, am I?"
As Nelly Bray had talked on, fondling her to whom she clung the while,
Ella's sobs had grown less frequent, and at last, as she listened to the
gaunt overgrown girl's well-meaning, half-childish, half-womanly words,
she smiled upon her through her tears; for her heart felt lighter, and
there was relief, too, in the knowledge that Nelly was indeed enough of
a true-hearted woman to read Max Bray's conduct in the right light, and
to act accordingly.
"You darling dear sweet love of a governess!" cried Nelly rapturously,
as she saw the smile; and clinging to her neck, she showered down more
kisses than were, perhaps, quite pleasant to the recipient. "You will
trust me, won't you?"
"I will indeed, dear," said Ella softly.
"And you won't fidget?"
"No," said Ella.
"And now--that's right; wipe your eyes and sit down--and now you must
talk to me, and take care of me. But you are not cross because I came
up without leave?"
"Indeed, no," said Ella sadly. "I thought I was without a friend, and
you came just at that time."
"No, no, you mustn't say that," said Nelly, "because I am not old and
sensible enough to be your friend. But it hurt me to see you in such
trouble, and I was obliged to come; and now you won't be miserable any
more; and you mustn't take any notice if Laury is disagreeable--a nasty
thing! flirting all day long with my--with Mr Hugh Lingon," she said,
colouring. "But there, I'm not ashamed: Hugh Lingon is my lover, and
has been ever since he was fourteen and I was six--when he used to give
me sweets, and I loved him, and used to say he was so nice and fat to
pinch! And Laury was flirting with him all that afternoon at the show,
when Max would hang about--a great stupid!--when I wanted to explain
things; for you know she was flirting with Hugh because that dear old
Charley Vining wouldn't take any notice of her. He is such a dear nice
fellow! But I do not love _him_, you know, only like him; and he likes
me ever so much. He told me so one day, and gave me half-a-crown to
spend in sweets--wasn't it kind of him? He'll often carry a basket of
strawberries or grapes over for me and the girls, or fill his pockets
with apples and pears for us; when, as for old Max, he'd faint at the
very sight of a basket, let alone carry it! You will like Charley. He
_is_ nice! Laury loves him awful--talks about him in her sleep! But I
do not think he cares for her,--and no wonder! But I say, Miss Bedford,
how nice and soft your hand is! and, I say, what a little one! Why,
mine's twice as big!"
Ella smiled, and went on smoothing the girl's rough hair, but hardly
heeding what she said--only catching a word here and there.
"I shouldn't never love Charley Vining," said Nelly, whose grammar was
exceedingly loose, "but I should always like him; and if I don't marry
Hugh Lingon, I mean to be an old maid, and wear stiff caps and pinners,
and then--You're beginning to cry again, and it's too bad, after all
this comforting up!"
"No, indeed, my child," said Ella, rousing herself. "I was only
thinking that when things are at the blackest some little ray of hope
will peep out to light our paths."
"I say," said Nelly, "is that poetry?"
"No," said Ella, smiling sadly.
"Ah, I thought it was," said Nelly. "But then I'm so ignorant and
stupid! Mamma says I'm fit for nothing, and I suppose she's right! But
there, I'm making you tired with my talking, and I won't say another
word; only don't you fidget about Max--only snub him well; and I
wouldn't tell pa or ma, because it might make mischief."
Hanging as it were in the balance, Ella allowed the advice of the
child-woman at her side to have effect, and determined to say nothing--
to make no complaints, trusting to her own firmness to keep her
persecutor in his place until his visit was at an end. It was, perhaps,
a weak resolve; but who is there that always takes the better of two
roads? It was, however, her decision--her choice of way--one which led
through a cloud of sorrow, misery, and despair so dense, that in after
time poor Ella often asked herself was there to be no turning, no byway
that should lend once again, if but for a few hours, into the joyous
sunshine of life?
Volume 1, Chapter XI.