Meanwhile, in spite of all Mrs Mowbray's eccentricities and caprices,
Adeline, as she grew up, continued to entertain for her the most perfect
respect and affection.
Her respect was excited by the high idea which she had formed of her
abilities,--an idea founded on the veneration which all the family
seemed to feel for her on that account,--and her affection was excited
even to an enthusiastic degree by the tenderness with which Mrs Mowbray
had watched over her during an alarming illness.
For twenty-one days Adeline had been in the utmost danger; nor is it
probable that she would have been able to struggle against the force
of the disease, but for the unremitting attention of her mother. It
was then, perhaps, for the first time that Mrs Mowbray felt herself a
mother:--all her vanities, all her systems, were forgotten in the danger
of Adeline,--she did not even hazard an opinion on the medical treatment
to be observed. For once she was contented to obey instructions in
silence; for once she was never caught in a reverie; but, like the
most common-place woman of her acquaintance, she lived to the present
moment:--and she was rewarded for her cares by the recovery of her
daughter, and by that daughter's most devoted attachment.
Not even the parents of Mrs Mowbray, who, because she talked on subjects
which they could not understand, looked up to her as a superior being,
could exceed Adeline in deference to her mother's abilities; and when,
as she advanced in life, she was sometimes tempted to think her deficient
in maternal fondness, the idea of Mrs Mowbray bending with pale and
speechless anxiety over her sleepless pillow used to recur to her
remembrance, and in a moment the recent indifference was forgotten.
Nor could she entirely acquit herself of ingratitude in observing this
seeming indifference: for, whence did the abstraction and apparent
coldness of Mrs Mowbray proceed? From her mind's being wholly engrossed
in studies for the future benefit of Adeline. Why did she leave the
concerns of her family to others? why did she allow her infirm but
active mother to superintend all the household duties? and why did she
seclude herself from all society, save that of her own family, and Dr
Norberry, her physician and friend, but that she might devote every hour
to endeavours to perfect a system of education for her beloved and only
daughter, to whom the work was to be dedicated?
'And yet,' said Adeline mentally, 'I am so ungrateful sometimes as to
think she does not love me sufficiently.'
But while Mrs Mowbray was busying herself in plans for Adeline's
education, she reached the age of fifteen, and was in a manner educated;
not, however, by her,--though Mrs Mowbray would, no doubt, have been
surprised to have heard this assertion.
Mrs Mowbray, as I have before said, was the spoiled child of rich
parents; who, as geniuses were rarer in those days than they are now,
spite of their own ignorance, rejoiced to find themselves the parents of
a genius; and as their daughter always disliked the usual occupations
of her sex, the admiring father and mother contented themselves with
allowing her to please herself; say to each other, 'She must not be
managed in a common way; for you know, my dear, she is one of your
geniuses,--and they are never like other folks.'
Mrs Woodville, the mother, had been brought up with all the ideas of
economy and housewifery which at that time of day prevailed in the city,
and influenced the education of the daughters of citizens.
'My dear,' said she one day to Adeline, 'as you are no genius, you know,
like your mother, (and God forbid you should! for one is quite enough in
a family,) I shall make bold to teach you every thing that young women
in my young days used to learn, and my daughter may thank me for it some
time or other: for you know, my dear, when I and my good man die, what
in the world would come of my poor Edith, if so be she had no one to
manage for her! for, Lord love you! she knows no more of managing a
family, and such-like, than a newborn babe.'
'And can you, dear grandmother, teach me to be of use to my mother?'
said Adeline.
'To be sure, child; for as you are no genius, no doubt you can learn all
them sort of things that women commonly know:--so we will begin
directly.'
In a short time Adeline, stimulated by the ambition of being useful,
(for she had often heard her mother assert that utility was the
foundation of all virtue,) became as expert in household affairs as Mrs
Woodville herself: even the department of making pastry was now given up
to Adeline, and the servants always came to her for orders, saying, that
'as their mistress was a learned lady, and that, and so could not be
spoken with except here and there on occasion, they wished their young
mistress, who was more easy spoken, would please to order:' and as Mr
and Mrs Woodville's infirmities increased every day, Adeline soon
thought it right to assume the entire management of the family.
She also took upon herself the office of almoner to Mrs Woodville, and
performed it with an activity unknown to her; for she herself carried
the broth and wine that were to comfort the infirm cottager; she herself
saw the medicine properly administered that was to preserve his suffering
existence: the comforts the poor required she purchased herself; and in
sickness she visited, in sorrow she wept with them. And though Adeline
was almost unknown personally to the neighbouring gentry, she was
followed with blessings by the surrounding cottagers; while many a
humble peasant watched at the gate of the park to catch a glimpse of
his young benefactress, and pray to God to repay to the heiress of
Rosevalley the kindness which she had shown to him and his offspring.
Thus happy, because usefully employed, and thus beloved and respected,
because actively benevolent, passed the early years of Adeline Mowbray;
and thus was she educated, before her mother had completed her system of
education.
It was not long before Adeline took on herself a still more important
office. Mrs Mowbray's steward was detected in very dishonest practices;
but, as she was too much devoted to her studies to like to look into her
affairs with a view to dismiss him, she could not be prevailed on to
discharge him from her service. Fortunately, however, her father on his
death-bed made it his request that she would do so; and Mrs Mowbray
pledged herself to obey him.
'But what shall I do for a steward in Davison's place?' said she soon
after her father died.
'Is one absolutely necessary?' returned Adeline modestly. 'Surely
farmer Jenkins would undertake to do all that is necessary for half the
money; and, if he were properly overlooked--'
'And pray who can overlook him properly?' asked Mrs Mowbray.
'My grandmother and I,' replied Adeline timidly: 'we both like business
and--'
'Like business!--but what do you know of it?'
'Know!' cried Mrs Woodville, 'why, daughter, Lina is very clever at it,
I assure you!'
'Astonishing! She knows nothing yet of accounts.'
'Dear me! how mistaken you are, child! She knows accounts perfectly
well.'
'Impossible!' replied Mrs Mowbray: 'who should have taught her? I have
been inventing an easy method of learning arithmetic, by which I was
going to teach her in a few months.'
'Yes, child: but I, thinking it a pity that the poor girl should learn
nothing, like, till she was to learn every thing, taught her according
to the old way; and I cannot but say she took to it very kindly. Did not
you, Lina?'
'Yes, grandmother,' said Adeline; 'and as I love arithmetic very much,
I am quite anxious to keep all my mother's accounts, and overlook the
accounts of the person whom she shall employ to manage her estates in
future.'
To this Mrs Mowbray, half pleased and half mortified, at length
consented; and Adeline and farmer Jenkins entered upon their
occupations. Shortly after Mrs Woodville was seized with her last
illness; and Adeline neglected every other duty, and Mrs Mowbray
her studies, 'to watch, and weep, beside a parent's bed.'
But watch and weep was all that Mrs Mowbray did: with every possible
wish to be useful, she had so long given way to habits of abstraction,
and neglect of everyday occupations, that she was rather a hindrance
than a help in the sick room.
During Adeline's illness, excessive fear of losing her only child had
indeed awakened her to unusual exertion; and as all that she had to
do was to get down, at stated times, a certain quantity of wine and
nourishment, her task though wearisome was not difficult: but to sooth
the declining hours of an aged parent, to please the capricious appetite
of decay, to assist with ready and skilful alacrity the shaking hand of
the invalid, jealous of waiting on herself and wanting to be cheated
into being waited upon;--these trifling yet important details did not
suit the habits of Mrs Mowbray. But Adeline was versed in them all; and
her mother, conscious of her superiority in these things, was at last
contented to sit by inactive, though not unmoved.
One day, when Mrs Mowbray had been prevailed upon to lie down for an
hour or two in another apartment, and Adeline was administering to Mrs
Woodville some broth which she had made herself, the old lady pressed
her hand affectionately, and cried, 'Ah! child, in a lucky hour I made
bold to interfere, and teach you what your mother was too clever to
learn. Wise was I to think one genius enough in a family,--else, what
should I have done now? My daughter, though the best child in the world,
could never have made such nice broth as this to comfort me, so hot, and
boiled to a minute like! bless her! she'd have tried, that she would,
but ten to one but she'd have smoked it, overturned it, and scalt her
fingers into the bargain.--Ah, Lina, Lina! mayhap the time will come
when you, should you have a sick husband or a child to nurse, may bless
your poor grandmother for having taught you to be useful.'
'Dear grandmother,' said Adeline tenderly, 'the time has come: I am, you
see, useful to you; and therefore I bless you already for having taught
me to be so.'
'Good girl, good girl! just what I would have you! And forgive me, Lina,
when I own that I have often thanked God for not making you a genius!
Not but what no child can behave better than mine; for, with all her
wit and learning, she was always so respectful, and so kind to me and
my dear good man, that I am sure I could not but rejoice in such a
daughter; though, to be sure, I used to wish she was more conversible
like; for, as to the matter of a bit of chat, we never gossiped together
in our lives. And though, to be sure, the squires' ladies about are none
of the brightest, and not to compare with my Edith, yet still they would
have done for me and my dear good man to gossip a bit with. So I was
vexed when my daughter declared she wanted all her time for her studies,
and would not visit any body, no, not even Mrs Norberry, who is to be
sure a very good sort of a woman, though a little given to speak ill of
her neighbours. But then so we are all, you know: and, as I say, why, if
one spoke well of all alike, what would be the use of one person's being
better than his neighbours, except for conscience's sake? But, as I was
going to say, my daughter was pleased to compliment me, and declare she
was sure I could amuse myself without visiting women so much inferior to
me; and she advised my beginning a course of study, as she called it.'
'And did you?' asked Adeline with surprise.
'Yes. To oblige her, my good man and I began to read one Mr Locke on the
Conduct of the Human Understanding; which my daughter said would teach
us to think.'
'To think?' said Adeline.
'Yes.--Now, you must know, my poor husband did not look upon it as very
respectful like in Edith to say that, because it seemed to say that we
had lived all these years without having thought at all; which was not
true, to be sure, because we were never thoughtless like, and my husband
was so staid when a boy that he was called a little old man.'
'But I am sure,' said Adeline, half smiling, 'that my mother did not
mean to insinuate that you wanted proper thought.'
'No, I dare say not,' resumed the old lady, 'and so I told my husband,
and so we set to study this book: but, dear me! it was Hebrew Greek to
us--and so dull!'
'Then you did not get through it, I suppose?'
'Through it, bless your heart! No--not three pages! So my good man says
to Edith, says he, "You gave us this book, I think, child, to teach us
to think?" "Yes, sir," says she. "And it has taught us to think," says
he:--"it has taught us to think that it is very dull and disagreeable."
So my daughter laughed, and said her father was witty; but, poor soul!
he did not mean it.
'Well, then: as, to amuse us, we liked to look at the stars sometimes,
she told us we had better learn their names, and study astronomy; and so
we began that: but that was just as bad as Mr Locke; and we knew no more
of the stars and planets, than the man in the moon. Yet that's not right
to say, neither; for, as he is so much nearer the stars, he must know
more about them than any one whomsoever. So at last my daughter found
out that learning was not our taste; so she left us to please ourselves,
and play cribbage and draughts in an evening as usual.'
Here the old lady paused, and Adeline said affectionately, 'Dear
grandmother, I doubt you exert yourself too much: so much talking can't
be good for you.'
'O! yes, child!' replied Mrs. Woodville: 'it is no trouble at all to me,
I assure you, but quite natural and pleasant like: besides, you know I
shall not be able to talk much longer, so let me make the most of my
time now.'
This speech brought tears into the eyes of Adeline; and seeing her
mother re-enter the room, she withdrew to conceal the emotion which she
felt, lest the cheerful loquacity of the invalid, which she was fond of
indulging, should be checked by seeing her tears. But it had already
received a check from the presence of Mrs Mowbray, of whose superior
abilities Mrs Woodville was so much in awe, that, concluding her daughter
could not bear to hear her nonsense, the old lady smiled kindly on her
when with a look of tender anxiety she hastened to her bedside, and
then, holding her hand, composed herself to sleep.
In a few days more, she breathed her last on the supporting arm of
Adeline; and lamented in her dying moments, that she had nothing
valuable in money to leave, in order to show Adeline how sensible she
was of her affectionate attentions: 'but you are an only child,' she
added, 'and all your mother has will be yours.'
'No doubt,' observed Mrs Mowbray eagerly; and her mother died
contented.