"Ah, my child, when will you grow wise?" said Mrs Thorne one day when
Hazel, making an effort to master her weariness, was bustling in and out
of the room with an apron on, her dress pinned up, and her sleeves drawn
up over her elbows, leaving her white arms bare.
"Grow wise, dear! What do you mean?"
"Leave off doing work like a charwoman day after day, when you might be
riding in your carriage, as I told Mrs Chute only this afternoon."
"You told Mrs Chute so this afternoon, mother! Has she been here?"
"Of course she has, Hazel," cried Mrs Thorne with asperity. "Do you
suppose because I am humbled in my position in life I am going to give
up all society? Of course I look upon it as a degradation to have to
associate with a woman like Mrs Chute--a very vulgar woman indeed; but
if my daughter chooses to place me in such a position as this I must be
amiable and kind to my neighbours. She is a very good sort of woman in
her way, but I let her know the differences in our position, and--yes,
of course I did--told her that my daughter might be riding in her
carriage now if she liked, instead of drudging at her school; for I'm
sure, though he did not say so, Edward Geringer would have kept a
brougham for you at least, if you would only consent, even now, to be
his wife. Why, only last week he said--"
"Mother, have you heard from Mr Geringer again?" cried Hazel, whose
cheeks were crimsoning.
"Of course I have, my dear child. Why should I not hear from so old a
friend? He said that if you would reconsider your determination he
should be very, very glad."
"But you did not write back, mother?"
"Indeed I did, my dear. Do you suppose I should ever forget that I am a
lady? I wrote back to him, telling him that I thought adversity was
softening your pride, and that, though I would promise nothing, still,
if I were a man, I said, in his position, I should not banish hope."
"O mother, mother! how could you write to him like that?" cried Hazel
piteously.
"Because I thought it to be my duty," said Mrs Thorne with dignity.
"Young people do not always know their own minds."
Hazel turned away to busy herself over some domestic task, so that her
mother should not read the annoyance in her face.
"Mrs Chute is a very weak, silly woman, Hazel, and I feel it to be my
duty to warn you against her, and--and her son."
Hazel could not trust herself to speak, but went on working with her
fingers trembling from agitation, and the tears dimming her eyes.
"She has been in here a good deal lately during school-hours, and she
has got the idea into her head that you have taken a fancy to Mr Samuel
Chute."
The little milk jug that Hazel was wiping fell to the floor with a
crash.
"Oh, for goodness' sake, do be more careful, Hazel," cried Mrs Thorne
angrily. "There's that broken now, and, what with your breakages and
those of the children, it is quite dreadful. Of course she owned that
her son was very much attached to you; but that I knew."
"You knew that, mother!" said Hazel, who was very pale now; and any one
but the weak woman who was speaking would have understood the conflict
between anger, shame, and duty going on in her breast.
"Of course I did, my dear. Do you suppose I do not know what men are,
or that I am blind, I have not reached my years without being able to
read men like a book," she continued with complacency. "I have seen
Master Chute's looks and ways, and poppings into the girls' school; but
as soon as his mother spoke I let her know that she need not expect
anything of that sort, for I told her that my daughter would look far
higher than to a national schoolmaster for her husband."
Hazel felt that she must rush out of the room and go upstairs to give
free vent to the sobs that were struggling for exit, but making an
effort to master the mortification from which she suffered, she stayed
and listened as her mother prattled on with a quiet assumption of
dignity.
"No, `my dear Mrs Chute,' I said--and I must give the poor woman credit
for receiving my quiet reproof with due submission and a proper sense of
respect for me--`no, my dear Mrs Chute,' I said, `you have been very
kind to me, and my child is most grateful to your son for his attentions
and the help he has been to her in giving her hints about the school and
the children. Friends we may continue, but your son must never think of
anything more. He must,' I told her, `see for himself that a young lady
of my daughter's position and personal attractions might look anywhere
for a husband, and that already there were several who, even if they had
not spoken, evidently were upon the point of doing so. Mr William
Forth Burge was certainly very much taken by your ladylike manner; and
that I had noticed several peculiar little advances made by the vicar;
while a little bird told me that there were more impossible things than
that Mr George Canninge might propose for your hand.' I would not
stoop to mention what I had seen in several of the tradespeople here,
but either of those three would be an eligible match for my daughter,
and therefore I said, `Mr Samuel Chute must, as a man full of
common-sense, largely increased by education'--I said that, Hazel, as a
stroke of diplomacy to soften the blow--`Mr Samuel Chute must see that
such an alliance as he was ready to propose would be impossible.'
"It is a great responsibility, a family," said Mrs Thorne, lying back
in her chair and gazing meditatively at her fingertips. "Percy is a
great anxiety--he is always wanting money, and I am only too glad to
keep on good terms with Mr Geringer, who really does keep the boy
somewhat in order. Though certainly, Hazel, you might do worse than
marry Edward Geringer. Perhaps he would be wiser if he married me," she
said with a simper; "but of course middle-aged men prefer young girls.
Yes, Hazel, you might do worse than many Edward Geringer. He is not
young; in fact, he is growing elderly. But he would leave you all his
money; and a handsome young widow with a nice fortune and no
incumbrances can marry again as soon as she pleases.
"Ah, dear me! dear me!" she went on with a sigh, "what a different fate
mine might have been if you had not been so squeamish, Hazel, and I had
had better health! But there, I will not murmur and repine. I have
only one thought, and that is to see my children happy. By the way, it
is of no use for you to make any opposition: those two girls must have
new frocks and hats--I am quite ashamed to see them go out--and Percy
wants five pounds. What in the world he can want five pounds for, I'm
sure I don't know; but he says I cannot understand a young fellow's
wants in a busy place like London. I've had--let me see--five and seven
are twelve, and five are seventeen, and ten are twenty-seven, and ten
are thirty-seven--thirty-seven pounds of Edward Geringer on purpose for
that boy, and I hardly like to ask him for more. Percy is a very great
anxiety to me, Hazel; and if Mr George Canninge should take it into his
head to propose for you, my dear, he could so easily place your brother
in some good post. He might make him his private secretary, and give
him charge of his estates. Who knows? And--Bless the child, what is
the matter?"
Matter enough: Hazel had sunk in a chair by the little side-table, her
face bowed down into her hands, and she was weeping bitterly for her
shame and degradation, as she silently sobbed forth an appeal to Heaven
to give her strength to bear the troubles that seemed to grow thicker
day by day.