The Eldon brothers lived in adjoining houses, large, handsome, and with
more extensive grounds than are usually connected with a city residence;
a low hedge separated those of the one from the other, and a gate in
that gave to each household free access to both, which, by the way, was
a convenience more esteemed by the brothers and their children than by
the wives and mothers, who had few interests in common—Mrs. George Eldon
occupying herself almost exclusively with home cares and economies and
outside charities, while her sister-in-law was a butterfly of fashion,
considering herself a martyr to social duties and leaving the care of
house, children, and her husband’s comfort to those who could be hired
to attend to them. As a natural consequence each secretly despised and
avoided the other.
When the brothers parted at the wharf that day, the elder one went
immediately to his place of business, where he found his wife waiting to
speak with him in his private counting room.
“Ah,” she said as he entered, “I am glad you have come at last; for I
have been waiting here for at least a full hour. Where on earth have you
been?”
“Out seeing to some very important business; a matter demanding
immediate attention,” he replied somewhat coldly.
“Something which your wife is not to know about, I presume?”
“I have not said so, nor have I the least intention to keep it secret
from you. Let me read you this”—unfolding a letter as he spoke.
It was the one he had just received from England, telling of the decease
of Captain and Mrs. Eldon, and the sending of their children to America.
She listened in almost breathless surprise.
“You have hardly mentioned that brother for years, and I had almost
forgotten his existence,” she remarked as he refolded the letter and
laid it aside.
“Too true,” he responded with a heavy sigh, “and my heart reproaches me
for my neglect. Poor Harry! if he had left that climate sooner he might
perhaps have lived to be an old man; lived to support and bring up his
children himself; but now all that I can do is to help in that work.”
“As if you hadn’t family enough of your own!” she exclaimed indignantly.
“I have two, my brother Albert six; and I have quite as large an income
as he.”
“And a wife that doesn’t spend the half that his does,” she added
drawing herself up with dignity.
“Quite true, and, therefore, I should take certainly not less than half
the burden of providing for Harry’s helpless little ones.”
“No doubt you will do your full share,” she said coldly, “and your wife
will be expected to do more than hers in the way of seeing that the
children are trained and taught, fed and clothed; things that such a
butterfly of fashion as Mrs. Albert does not trouble her head about for
her own offspring, and certainly would not for others.”
“Well, my dear, fortunately for us we will not be called upon to give an
account for her sins of omission or commission; but I have heard you
say, certainly more than once or twice, that you consider it a duty to
care for the poor with purse, time, and effort; and surely relationship
to your husband should not be looked upon as a bar to such ministrations
on the part of his wife. My brother, I am happy to say, is more than
willing to do his full share, and I certainly do not want him to do
more.”
He was magnanimous enough not to mention her orphan niece whom he was
supporting and educating, and she had the grace to feel somewhat ashamed
of her display of unwillingness to do a little for his fatherless and
motherless nephew and nieces. But she did not condescend to say so much
in words.
“Well, how soon are we to expect them?” she asked.
“They are already here,” he replied, “and the errand from which I have
just returned was to the vessel that brought them. Albert proposes to
keep the whole four for a few days, till they have had time to become
somewhat acquainted with us, and parted with the good woman—the wife of
a soldier in Canada—who had charge of them on the voyage.”
“And after that?”
“We propose to make a division—each taking two; our wives, of course,
having a vote as to which two each of them may prefer to take.”
“And they have been already sent up to your brother’s, I suppose? I
wonder how Augusta likes it.”
“Surely she can hardly be without some feeling of compassion for the
sorely bereaved little ones,” he returned with emotion.
“They are to be pitied,” she said, her voice softening somewhat. “Well,
I came for a little money to spend in doing good—helping some of the
unfortunates in our midst. Can you spare it?”
“Certainly,” he replied, opening his purse and handing her a small
roll of banknotes.
“Thank you,” she said; “I’ll see to it that your bounty is not wasted.”
“I’m sure of it, Sarah; I never knew you to be wasteful.”
She smiled at that, understanding it as a well deserved compliment; then
took a hasty leave, as she perceived that someone was at the door
seeking an interview with Mr. Eldon.
“Well, it’s a bad business,” she sighed to herself as she hurried along
the street; “as if it was not enough to be plagued with my own brother’s
child, I must have his too. And really there’s no necessity for it; it
would be a charity to pay somebody to take charge of the four, saving
them the trial of being separated and helping the caretaker to make a
living; decidedly I think it is a brilliant idea and that I shall have
no difficulty in persuading Augusta to join me in insisting upon having
it carried out.”
Mrs. Augusta was in her dressing room, just completing her dinner
toilet, when to her intense surprise a tap at her door was followed by
the entrance of her sister-in-law.
“Ah, you had no idea it was I coming upon you so unceremoniously,”
remarked the caller with a grim smile, and seating herself without
waiting to be invited; “but I came to have a bit of chat with you about
this invasion of our homes by uninvited young guests. I for one see no
reason why we should be expected to take charge of them, our husbands
being amply able to pay someone else to do so, someone who may be glad
to add in that way to a meagre income.”
“Why, Sarah, that’s a brilliant idea! If only such a person—one whom
George and Albert would be willing to trust—can be found,” exclaimed
Mrs. Augusta, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Have you anyone in
mind?”
“Yes, I have thought of that poor Irish curate, Coote, who is so
continually applying for help. Wasteful creatures he and his wife must
be to need it so often, with never a chick or child of their own to
support.”
“I should think so; and I can’t bear him—red-headed, pompous,
dictatorial, domineering creature that he is! He should never have
charge of a child of mine.”
“Well, don’t, I beg of you, be silly enough to say that to your husband
or mine.”
“Of course not; if they can’t see for themselves, why should you or I
enlighten them? Still I do feel a little sorry at the thought of giving
him a chance to domineer over those poor little orphans.”
“Let them behave themselves and they will do fairly well, I have no
doubt,” returned Mrs. Sarah with a frown. “They must be taught to expect
to support themselves from the time they can be made capable of doing
so, and lessons in self-control and the endurance of some hardship will
be a decided benefit to them.”
“So we will endeavor to believe, at all events,” laughed Mrs. Augusta.
Then they consulted together as to the best plan for approaching their
husbands on the subject; and decided that their wisest course would be
to say nothing at present, but wait till some trouble between the
newcomers and their own children should so annoy the gentlemen that they
would be ready to purchase peace at almost any price.