"Most like a step-dame or a dowager
Long withering out a young man's revenue."
_Shakespeare_.
I must not chronicle Julian's school-life, much as I should have to tell
about him, and strong as the temptation is, but another event happened
during his stay at Harton which affected so materially his future years
that I must proceed to narrate it now.
Julian's father had a sister much older than himself, who many years
before had married a baronet-farmer, Sir Thomas Vinsear of Lonstead
Abbey. It was certainly not a love match on the lady's side, for the
baronet was twenty years her senior, and his tastes in no respect
resembled hers. But she was already of "a certain age," and despairing
of a lover, accepted the good old country squire, and was located for
the rest of her life as mistress of Lonstead Abbey.
As long as he lived all was well; Lady Vinsear, like a sensible wife,
conformed herself to all his wishes and peculiarities, and won in no
slight degree his gratitude and affection. But he did not long survive
his marriage, and after a few years the lady found herself alone and
childless in the solitary grandeur of her husband's home.
Her brother Henry, the Rector of Ildown, had always been her special
favourite, and she looked to his frequent visits to enliven her
loneliness. But she was piqued by his having married without consulting
her, and behaved so uncourteously to Mrs Home, that for a long time the
intercourse between them was broken.
One day, however, shortly before his death, she had written to announce
an intended visit, and in due time her carriage stood before the rectory
door. It so happened that it was Julian's holiday-time, and he was at
home. Changed as the old lady had become by years and disappointment,
and the ennui of an aimless widowhood, little relieved by the unceasing
attendance of a confidante, yet Lady Vinsear's childless and withered
heart seemed to be touched to life again when she gazed on her brother's
beautiful and modest boy. Courteous without subservience, and attentive
without servility, Julian, by his graceful and unselfish demeanour, won
her complete affection, and she dropped to the family no ambiguous
hints, that, for Julian's sake, she should renew her intercourse with
them, and make him her heir. Circumstanced as he was, Mr Home could
not but rejoice in this determination, and the more so from his proud
consciousness that not even the vilest detractor could charge him with
having courted his rich sister's favour by open or secret arts. From
Julian he would have concealed Lady Vinsear's intention, but she had
herself made him tolerably aware of it, after a fit of violent spleen
against Miss Sprong, her confidante, who, seeing how the wind lay, had
tried to drop little malicious hints against the favourite nephew, until
the old lady had cut them short, by a peremptory order that Miss Sprong
should leave the room. That little rebuff the lady never forgot and
never forgave, and, under the guise of admiration, she nursed her enmity
against the unconscious Julian until due opportunity should have
occurred to give it vent.
Every now and then, Julian, when wearied with study, would be tempted to
think in his secret heart, "What does it matter my working so hard, when
I shall be master of Lonstead Abbey some day?" And then perhaps would
follow a rather inconsistent fit of idleness, till Mr Carden, or some
other master, applied the spur again.
"I can't make you out, Julian," said Lillyston; "sometimes you grind
away for a month like--like beans, and then you're as idle again for a
week as the dog that laid his head against a wall to bark."
"Well, shall I tell you, Hugh?" answered Julian, who had often felt that
it would be a relief to put his friend in possession of the secret. And
he told Lillyston that he was the acknowledged heir of his aunt's
property.
"Oh, well then," said Lillyston, "I don't see why I should work either,
seeing as how Lillyston Court will probably come to me some day. I say,
Julian, I vote we both try for lag next trials. It'd save lots of
grind."
All this was brought out very archly, and instantly recalled to Julian's
mind the many arguments which he had used to his friend, especially
since his father's death, to prove that, under any circumstances,
diligence was a duty which secured its own reward; indeed, he used to
maintain that, even on selfish grounds it was best, for in the long run
the idlest boys, with their punishments and extras, got far the most
work to do--to say nothing of the lassitude that usurps the realm of
neglected duty, and that disgraceful ignorance which is the nemesis of
wasted time.
He burst out laughing. "You have me on the hip, Hugh, and I give in.
In proof whereof, here goes the novel I'm reading; and I'll at once set
to work on my next set of verses;" whereon Julian pitched his green
novel to the top of an inaccessible cupboard, got down his Elegiacs for
the next day, and had no immediate recurrence of what Lillyston
christened the "pudding theory of work."
It was during his last year at Harton that Lady Vinsear, in consequence
of one of her sudden whims, wrote to invite him to Lonstead, with both
his brothers; for she never took any notice of either Violet or Mrs
Home. The time she mentioned was ten days before the Harton holidays
began. So that Frank and Cyril, (who came back from Marlby just in
time), had to go alone, rather to their disgust; Julian, however,
promising to join them directly after he returned from school. The
wilful old lady, urged on by the confidante, took considerable umbrage
at this, and wrote that "she was quite sure the Doctor would not have
put any obstacles in the way of Julian's coming had he been informed of
_her_ wishes. And as for trials, (the Harton word for examination),
which Julian had pleaded in excuse, he had better take care that, in
attending to the imaginary trials of Harton, he didn't increase his own
real trials."
This sentence made Julian laugh immoderately, both from his aunt's
notion of the universal autocracy of _her_ will, and from her obvious
bewilderment at the technical word "Trials," which had betrayed her
unconsciously into a pun, which, of all things, she abhorred. However,
he wrote back politely--explained what he meant by "Trials"--begged to
be excused for a neglect of her wishes, which was inevitable--and
reiterated his promise of joining his brothers, as early as was
feasible, under her hospitable roof.
It was not without inward misgiving that Cyril and Frank found
themselves deposited in the hall of their glum old aunt's large and
lonely house, the very size and emptiness of which had tended not a
little to increase the poor lady's vapours. However, they were
naturally graceful and well-bred, so that, in spite of the patronising
empire assumed over them by the vulgar and half-educated Miss Sprong--
which Cyril especially was very much inclined to resent--the first day
or two passed by with tolerable equanimity.
But this dull routine soon proved unendurable to the two lively boys.
They found it impossible to sit still the whole evening, looking over
sacred prints; and this was the only amusement which Miss Sprong
suggested to Lady Vinsear for them. Of late the dowager had taken what
she considered to be a religious turn; but unhappily the supposed
religion was as different from real piety as light from darkness, and
consisted mainly in making herself and all around her miserable by a
semi-ascetic puritanism of observances, and a style of conversation fit
to drive her little nephews into a lunatic asylum.
Though they both felt a species of terror at their ungracious aunt, and
the ever-detonating Miss Sprong, the long-pent spirit of fun at times
grew too strong in them, and they would call down sharp rebukes by
romping in the drawing-room, so as to disturb the two ladies while they
read to each other, for hours together, the charming treatises of their
favourite moderate divine.
The boys were seated on two stools, in the silence of despair, and at
last Cyril, who had been twirling his thumbs for half an hour, and
listening to a dissertation on Armageddon, gave a yawn so portentous and
prolonged that Frank suddenly exploded in a little burst of laughter,
which was at once checked, when Miss Sprong observed--
"I think it would be profitable if your ladyship,"--Miss Sprong never
omitted the title--"would set your nephews some of Watts' hymns to
learn."
The nephews protested with one voice and much rebellion, but at last
their irate aunt quenched the unseemly levity, and they were fairly set
to work at Dr Watts--Frank getting for his share "The little busy bee."
But instead of learning it, they got together, and Cyril began drawing
pictures of cruet-stands and other impieties, whereby Frank was kept in
fits of laughter, and when called up to say his hymn, knew nothing at
all about it. Cyril sat by him, and when Frank had exhausted his stock
of acquirements by saying, in a tone of disgust--
"How doth the little busy bee--"