When Anna returned with her kind friend to Rosewood, she sought for
Bella in order to tell her that she was sorry that she had hitherto
given her so much trouble, and found her busily employed at needle-work,
and two or three little girls of the village with her, to whom she
was distributing several articles of clothing. This, for the present,
prevented Anna's speaking of what she came to say, and she only asked,
"what she was about?" and why these little girls were there.
They were not unknown to her, and she had formerly played with them
before she left the farm; but now they saw her white frock and yellow
shoes, and remembered she was taken to be Mrs. Meridith's daughter, they
each made her a curtesy:
"Oh, don't curtesy to _me_;" said Anna, full of what had passed in the
morning; "I am only a little girl like yourselves, and if it had not
been for a good uncle and aunt, and Mrs. Meridith's kindness, I should
have been a great deal worse off than you, for I had no father or mother
to take care of me."
"Oh, Miss Anna, don't talk so," said Bella; "every body loves you, and
would be glad to take care of you."
"But I would wish her not only to talk so, but to think so also," said
Mrs. Meridith, who just then entered the room, and had heard Anna
speaking, "if it will keep her mindful not to give more trouble than she
can help; and I should be sorry she should forget, that these little
girls have as much right to her kindness as she has to mine, when she
has it in her power to show them any."
"I will, Mamma, I will," replied Anna, "for they are all my old
playfellows, and I used to love them very much."
Mrs. Meridith then inquired into the work Bella was doing, and Anna
found she was going to clothe them also, and she heard her give
directions for more things to be made, and tell the children to send
another family out of the village to her.
As soon as they were gone she burst into tears, and said, "Oh, Mamma, I
might have been one of these little girls, and you would have been good
to me as you are to them. But how much more kind to take me as your own!
And why was it _me_? why not one of them? they are better little girls
than I have been, and would never have given you so much trouble; but my
dear Bella I am ashamed of it; you shall never have to mend my frocks as
you have done."
"I never complained of it, my dear," returned Bella, who did not know
what had passed.
"But you will have more time to assist the poor children in the
village," observed Mrs. Meridith, "who are all obliged to do something
towards supporting themselves already, and therefore your working for
them will be more useful than for Anna."
The little girl agreed to all her Mamma said, and she sat down to dinner
with her with very different ideas than the day before.
As soon as she saw William and John coming up the lawn, whom Mrs.
Meridith had asked to tea, she asked her leave to go and meet them; and
as they walked slowly round the garden together, she told them all about
the torn frock which she had vainly endeavoured to mend. "You told me,"
said she to William, "that these fine clothes did not make me happier,
a little while ago, and I have found it out now; but however I will
never tear another if I can help it; at least I shall know what trouble
it must be to Bella to mend it."
The afternoon passed rapidly away, and when she went to bed, Anna
felt more grateful for the happy home provided for her, than she
had ever done before. She frequently reverted to her former state,
in conversation with Mrs. Meridith, and her uncle and aunt, while
the latter always endeavoured to imprint on her mind the sense of
her obligation to her kind benefactress, by whose name she was now
universally known, though that which really belonged to her was
Eastwood, for so her parents were called.
In the course of a few years Mrs. Meridith evidently grew happier, while
according to her own maxim she added to the happiness of others; she
suffered no one to want work who were capable of it, and she regularly
supplied those who were old or ill in the village with every comfort
they needed. Blankets were sent to every house, and each year her house
was open for a whole week at Christmas. A plentiful meal was provided
every day, but nothing superfluous; and her barrels of home-brewed ale
were tapped, that all might have their allotted portion. In short, from
her extensive fortune and her earnest endeavour to make these poor
people happy, there was not a family in Downash who had not at least one
of their children apprenticed to some useful trade, while the others
worked in the fields; nor was there a child in the village who had not
learned to write and read; and while Mrs. Meridith was thus careful for
Downash and its inhabitants, she was not unmindful of the poor on the
estate she had left in Lincolnshire, but gave orders to her agent there
that they should be provided with what was necessary for them; and
often sent Syphax, her confidential servant, to see that it was done.
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell continued to receive many marks of her favour,
and as their family increased, she added to her liberality; nor did she
forget the other brother and his family, but on his first visit to the
farm after her settling at Rosewood, recognized him as one of her early
friends with her usual kindness. She also sent handsome presents to his
wife and children; and was always endeavouring to find out where she
could be materially useful to both of them. At length the farm which
the younger Mr. Campbell rented was to be sold; and unless he became
the purchaser he expected to be turned out. On hearing this, Mrs.
Meridith advanced the money for him, and at the same time presented a
deed of gift to the elder brother, of the farm which he rented of her.
This perhaps would have been carrying her generosity too far, had she
not possessed so ample a fortune, with no near relation to inherit it
after her death, and those she had were all in a state of affluence. She
therefore gratified herself by thus obliging two worthy families, and
convincing them that the kindness of their mother to her in infancy was
not forgotten. All who heard of these acts of kindness, rejoiced that
they were shewn to men so deserving of them, except the other farmer in
the village, whose name was Ward: he could not see what the Campbells
had done to merit such a recompense, nor bear that they should be the
owners of their farms while he only rented his. At market, or wherever
they met, his envy was apparent; and yet he could attach no blame to
either of the brothers, since they were both ignorant of her intention,
and would have declined her offer had she made it to them before the
purchase was necessary. As it was, Edward Campbell insisted on paying
her what money he had laid up against the time he expected the farm
would be sold; and to satisfy his scruples Mrs. Meridith accepted it;
and also the same sum from his elder brother, which she immediately, and
unknown to them, placed in the funds in the names of their respective
children. But yet farmer Ward was still hard to credit that they had
paid _any_ purchase money: he had for some time viewed the notice Mrs.
Meridith took of the family with a jealous eye, and much had been
said by his wife and daughters of the increased consequence of farmer
Campbell and his family, since the lady of the manor had done so much
for them.
This last event did not take place till after Anna had been ten years
with her kind patroness, whom she was now accustomed to look on as more
than a mother, though often the circumstance of the torn frock was
reverted to by her uncle, and he reminded her that it was the humanity
of Mrs. Meridith, and not from any claim she had to her kindness, which
had placed her in the situation she was.
As she was now arrived at the age of fourteen, the best masters
the country afforded for music, French, and drawing, attended her;
"and these," said her attentive uncle, "you ought to be assiduous
in learning, that you may be able to amuse Mrs. Meridith as her age
increases;" but Anna's attention to these accomplishments did not
prevent her from paying the same to more domestic concerns.
"It may be," said Mrs. Meridith, "you may never wish to play, or sing,
after your masters have left you; but you will always have a family to
attend to."
As music was what Anna was particularly desirous of improvement in, and
as she had a very good voice, her kind friend did not discourage her
endeavours to advance in it; "but remember," said she, "that to add
to the happiness of others, you must do something more than sing to
them.--A song, or a concerto on the piano will not satisfy the calls
of hunger, or still the pains of sickness; and the poor in the village
will not thank you for sitting whole hours at your instrument, if it
leads you to neglect them; and may you recollect my dear, that one chief
reason, why I adopted you for my daughter, was that you should supply my
place to the poor of Downash, when I am no longer here to assist them."
Anna always heard her with tears upon this subject, and faithfully
promised to regard her injunctions.
At this time she often walked among the villagers and listened to their
wants, or rather their account of how they had been relieved; and the
praises of good Mrs. Meridith: and when the purchase of the farms were
made, she met with various congratulations.
"I am sure both your uncles were deserving of it," said one of their
labourers, at whose house she called to know why his daughter was not at
school the week before; "they are as good masters to work for as can be
found in all the country, and _we be_ all heartily glad that the farms
are their own."
"Mrs. Meridith," replied Anna, "has given us all reason to rejoice that
she came to live here; what has she not done for me?"
"Ah, dear Miss," returned the man, "now you _speaks_ of that, your poor
dear mother was deserving of it."
"It is all for _her_ sake," answered Anna, "but did _you_ know her?"
"Ah, and your father too, Miss, if he deserved to be called so, who
could leave you as he did."
Anna sighed. "I wonder where he is," said she, not expecting the old man
could inform her.
"Why some do say that he went for a sailor," returned he, "but I did
hear a little while ago that some one _see'd_ a man that had seen him
about a twelvemonth before."
"You don't say so," returned Anna, with eagerness, half afraid yet
anxious to hear more: "Who was it, and where was he?"
"Why I don't know for the truth of it, Miss," said he, "nor whereabouts
it was he _see'd him_, but I thinks it was somewhere beyond sea; but it
was at farmer Ward's my daughter heard it, and the reason, Ma'am, she
_h'an't_ been to school this week, is, she has been there, while their
girl was gone home to see her mother."
"At farmer Ward's?" replied Anna, "I thought they would have had some of
their own labourer's daughters."
"And so should I, Miss, but somehow Nancy Ward has taken a great fancy
to my girl, so I let her go, as 'twas but for a little while; but I
_hopes_ to get her into your aunt's, Miss, when she wants a girl, and
if you would be so good as to speak for her it would be doing a great
kindness; she is very handy, and knows how to do a great many things.
But here she comes, and Nancy Ward with her, I declare." Anna looked out
and saw them coming towards the little wicket, she therefore would not
leave the house till they entered it; and as it was at farmer Ward's
that something had been heard of her father, she thought she might hear
more of it from Nancy, whom, though she had not seen for some months,
yet as children they were often together; but she was not aware of the
difference Mrs. Meridith's late kindness to her uncles had made in _her_
behaviour, as well as in that of her father.
"How do you do, Nancy?" said she, "I hope you are well? You are much
grown since I saw you."
"And so are you, Miss," replied Nancy, with a saucy air; "and all your
family I think,--the farmer Campbells are quite gentlemen now, and Miss
Meridith, or Miss Campbell, or Miss Eastwood, or whatever name I may
call you by, is quite a fine lady."
"Not more so than I was a few years ago, when you did not account me
so," answered Anna, with rather a haughty air; but it was immediately
humbled when the insolent girl proceeded, "according to the old proverb,
set a beggar on horseback."
"A beggar!" returned Anna.
"Yes," said Nancy, "your father was one, or is one now; and it would be
a good thing for him if he could come in for some of Mrs. Meridith's
bounty."
"I believe," replied Anna, with some spirit, "that if he needed and
deserved it, he would not have long to wait for it; but can you tell me
where he is?"
"O dear no, Miss, I have no acquaintance with him, nor do I wish it:
I only think that if he knew how generous Mrs. Meridith is to all who
belong to _you_, he would soon be here to get a little out of her."
"Fye, Nancy, fye, I am ashamed of you," said the old man; "if you can't
talk better than that, you should hold your tongue; you may be ashamed
of yourself; can any one help the faults of their parents?"
"It is the first time," thought Anna, "that I have suffered for the
faults of mine; till now every body pitied me for having such a father."
"Oh!" returned the girl, determined now to vent her spleen as she had
began, "the poor little Anna Eastwood, or Campbell as she was called, is
so proud since she has become Mrs. Meridith's daughter, that she ought
to be told of what she was; she was only taken out of charity at first."
"I know it," replied Anna, with a dignified air; "and I am obliged to
Mrs. Meridith for giving me such an education as has not disgraced that
charity. If I _am_ proud, I am sorry for it, for I well know I have
nothing to be proud of; but I hope I shall never be insensible to the
kindness of Mrs. Meridith, or my uncle and aunts; and as for what that
lady has done for _them_, it was because their mother was her first
friend; they wanted not her assistance, though they know how to value
her friendship and condescension in noticing me as she has done; and
there are other people who rejoice at it for my mother's sake.
"That we all do, Miss," said the old man; "and as for your being proud,
no one thinks you so, any more than Mrs. Meridith herself; and it is a
rare thing to see ladies like her with so little, and remember former
kindnesses and friends as she does. I am sure old Mrs. Campbell was a
good nurse to her, and she has rewarded her family for it."
"I think so, indeed," replied the envious girl, "when she has given them
both farms for it."
"You are mistaken there," said Anna, very mildly, for the honest
encomiums of the poor man had calmed her anger. "My uncles had not
laboured so long, nor my grandfather before them, not to be able
to purchase the farms you mention; and Mrs. Meridith only gave the
preference to any other buyer."
"My father could buy a farm as well as them, I fancy," replied Nancy,
with a toss of the head.
"I dare say he could," returned Anna, "but you do not imagine Mrs.
Meridith would have sold that in which my uncle lived, away from him,
if it was in his power to purchase it, any more than she would sell
your father's to another person if _he_ wished to have it." Nancy Ward
now looked half ashamed, and Anna turning from her, said something
to the other girl (who had stood by in evident distress during this
conversation) about her coming to school the next week, and then bidding
the old man farewell, she hastened home ruminating on what she had
heard, and particularly on that which concerned her father.