THE LADY'S MAID.
Miss HALL and Freda were sitting alone in the morning-room that has
before been alluded to. The former was much more nervous than Freda had
ever seen her. First she took up her work, then her book, then she began
to copy some music. Freda had great pleasure in watching her, and in
remarking that the calm Serena could be excited by the expected
appearance of a lover of twenty years ago; also in observing that she
had a most becoming colour on her cheeks, and looked quite young; also
that she was dressed even with more care than usual, and her hair was
smooth as brush could make it. Freda longed to laugh at her, but she
forbore; she felt that there was something very touching in this meeting
between two people who had parted under such uncomfortable circumstances
so many years ago.
When the door bell rang Freda rose to leave the room.
'If you please, Freda, remain where you are, I would very much rather.'
Freda resumed her seat, and shortly after Mr Jones was announced.
'Quite an old man; twice as old as Nita,' was Freda's first thought as
she looked at him.
Miss Hall rose and advanced to meet Mr Jones. They shook hands, Freda
thought, very much like other people, and then Miss Hall introduced her,
and Mr Jones bowed.
'I promised your sister to come and see you, Miss Hall, when I came down
into Wales,' he said after he was duly seated.
'I am very much obliged to you, it was very kind,' was the reply.
Freda saw that they were both as nervous and shy as a couple of
children, and came to the rescue by apologising for her father's
unavoidable absence, he having gone to a neighbouring tenant's, and by
saying that he would be at home at luncheon.
By degrees they all three got into conversation, and Mr Jones gave Miss
Hall an account of her sister and her family. One little girl was very
like Miss Hall, and she was the general favourite.'
'I am sure she must be very pretty,' suggested Freda.
'Very,' said Mr Jones, with a smile at Freda, of greater archness than
she gave him credit for.
'Don't you think Miss Hall very little altered?' she asked again.
'I think I should have known her anywhere, though I passed her in the
twilight, uncertain who she was.'
A long conversation followed upon various general topics, until the
luncheon bell rang. As no Mr Gwynne appeared, Freda was obliged to make
another excuse for him; but Mr Jones seemed perfectly satisfied without
him, if not relieved by his non-appearance.
Freda proposed a walk as soon as luncheon was over, and she and Miss
Hall took their guest to see the school, which Freda was careful to say
was under Miss Hall's superintendence. Then they pioneered him to
various points of view, which he seemed to look upon with the eye of a
real lover of the beauties of nature; and finally they rested on a
rustic seat at the top of a wooded hill, whence they looked down on the
magnificent valley beneath, with its green meadows, winding river, and
boundary of distant mountains.
Alter Freda had remained here a few minutes, she suddenly said,--
'Would you mind my just running down to Mrs Prothero's to settle with
her about Gladys? I am sure we shall none of us be happy until that
matter is arranged. If you will go down through the wood, Nita, I will
join you at the waterfall, or somewhere else, in less than a quarter of
an hour. Will you excuse me, Mr Jones?'
'Certainly,' was the reply.
'But had we not better all go?' asked Miss Hall, casting an entreating
glance upon Freda, who, however, would not see it.
'I think not. Mrs Prothero is so nervous that we should frighten her to
death. It will take me five minutes to run down the hill, five minutes
to say my say, and five to get to the waterfall. But you need not hurry
away, as I can wait for you; or, if you are not there, I will find you.
Come, Frisk, come with me.'
Frisk was a fine, little Scotch terrier, his mistress's especial
favourite, and he bounded after her with great satisfaction. The pair
were soon half-way down the hill, near the bottom of which Glanyravon
Farm lay.
'I think I managed that capitally,' said Freda to Frisk? 'didn't I,
Frisk? Now, if he doesn't take advantage of the opportunity, he is very
foolish. Don't you think so, Frisk?'
Frisk jumped, and barked, and twirled about in a very affirmative way.
'I should like to make up a match, it would be such fun. And I think he
is a very worthy, gentlemanly sort of man, though I shouldn't like him
for myself, and he is not quite the sort of person that I could have
supposed would have made such an impression on Serena. But she would be
such a capital clergyman's wife, and he would be so fond of her! But
what should I do without her? Get married myself? The only man that I
ever saw that I could marry won't marry; and then he doesn't care for
me. Heigho! this is an odd world. All of us at cross-purposes. But I
don't mean to break my heart,--do I, Frisk?'
The 'do I, Frisk?' brought Freda and her dog to the gate that led into
the road, and the road soon led them to the farm, where Frisk began at
once to run after all the poultry, to the no small annoyance of Shanno.
But Freda succeeded in catching him, and carrying him off with her into
the parlour, whither she went, and whither Mrs Prothero followed her.
'I have just come to ask what you have settled about Gladys,' said Miss
Gwynne. 'I cannot stay long, and am anxious to know.'
'My husband thinks it better that she should go to you, as you kindly
wish to take her,' replied Mrs Prothero, with tears in her eyes. 'He
says that he has no ill-will to the poor girl; on the contrary, he is
very fond of her; but he don't think her a good match for our eldest
son, Owen, who might marry very well. For my own part, I think he would
never meet with such another as Gladys; but that is in the hands of
Providence, and if it is to be it will be. He says that he is sure Owen
will never come home as long as she is with us, for fear of sending her
away; but that when he knows that she is so well off with you, he will
perhaps come back again. And, indeed, we want him sadly, Miss Gwynne. It
is a great trial to us, to have three children, and neither of them at
home to help us. My husband is much altered since Netta married, though
he don't show it; and Netta won't write, or do anything to prove she's
sorry, and though he don't say so, I think this makes him more angry.'
'Then you really wish Gladys to come to me?'
'I do indeed, Miss Gwynne. I am quite sure it will be for her good; and
you cannot help liking her. But she will not make any choice between the
two situations you offer, but says you must do with her whatever you
think best.'
'Is she very unhappy at the idea of coming to us?'
'Not at all. She is very sad to leave us, but she says she would rather
do so, and would rather serve you than any other lady in the world.'
'Well, perhaps it may be best for all parties. I think she is too young
and too pretty to live alone at the school-house, and besides, I don't
particularly want to change mistresses: so I mean to have her as my
maid, and then I can take care of her myself. You know I have not had a
regular maid since that disagreeable affair of Evans; one of the
housemaids has waited on me, and I don't like maids, they are so in
one's way. But I shall like Gladys. And she can help Miss Hall in the
school, and go and see you every evening if she likes, when we are at
dinner. In short, I am sure it is a capital plan for us all, and will
make matters easy for you.'
'You are so very kind, Miss Gwynne, I do not know what we should have
done without you. Gladys would have begged her way back to Ireland, and
died there.'
'I mustn't stay any longer; I have outstayed my five minutes over and
over again. You can send Gladys when you like. I have heaps of dresses,
and clothes, of all kinds for her, so don't you think of giving her
anything new. I will give her the same wages that I gave Evans, so she
will feel quite independent; and I will put her under the particular
charge of the housekeeper, until she gets into the ways of the house.
Now I must go; what will Miss Hall say?'
Well might Freda ask, 'What will Miss Hall say?' She walked as quickly
as possible to the waterfall, she was not there; up the hill again, not
there; home through the wood, not there; into the house, not there. She
waited a little while with her hat on, but as no Mr Jones or Miss Hall
arrived, she took off her walking things, and went about her usual
avocations, saying to herself, with a smile on her lips the while,--
'I never thought I was a manoeuvrer before. It is evident they don't
want me, or they would have waited for me, and I have no doubt they are
much happier without me. I must go and look, after my father.'
Freda found Mr Gwynne in his library.
'Where is your guest, Freda? What is he like? Is he a bore?' were his
queries.
'He is walking with Miss Hall, and my impression is they are very good
company. He is very quiet, very grave, has no wonderful travellers'
stories, and none of the ologies, and can play chess, for I asked him. I
don't think him a bore, and I am sure Miss Hall doesn't.'
'Very well, then I will go into the drawing-room against he comes in.'
'Thanks; and I will whisper a little secret into your ear; he is an old
lover of Serena's, and I cannot help hoping he is come to propose for
her.'
Mr Gwynne was alive and interested in a moment. It is curious how on the
alert people are when they hear of a love affair.
'I will go and dress at once; he must be nice if Miss Hall likes him,
for she is certainly the least intrusive, and all that sort of thing. Is
he like Rowland Prothero?'
Freda coloured at this sudden question.
'No, not at all; besides, he is a middle-aged man.'
'To be sure; I suppose so. Miss Hall must be--I don't know--nearly forty
I suppose. I wish Rowland Prothero lived at the farm; he was so obliging
and pleasant; even Lady Mary Nugent admires him.'
'She is no great criterion of what is agreeable; I shouldn't think it
any compliment to be liked by her. There is the dressing bell. Now,
papa, do be ready for dinner, if you please.'
Freda went to her room in a sudden fit of ill-temper. The mention of
Lady Mary always put her out of humour. In a few moments there was a tap
at the door, and Miss Hall made her appearance.
'I might have waited a long time at the waterfall, Serena,' she began
maliciously.
For answer, Miss Hall went to her and kissed her, and when Freda looked
up, she saw that there was an unusually bright colour in her cheeks, and
something very like tears in her eyes.
Freda threw her arms round her friend, exclaiming,--
'I know, Nita dear! It is all signed, sealed, and settled _n'est-ce
pas_?'
And so it proved; during that long walk the old love had become new, and
two people as deserving of happiness as most of the poor sinful mortals
who are for ever seeking her, were made perfectly happy for that day at
least.
Freda's reflections, whilst she sat alone, listlessly brushing her hair
and dressing herself, were as follows:--
'How happy she seems; she looks twenty years younger; and he, an
elderly, iron-grey clergyman; it would be ridiculous, only it is all so
true and good. I suppose, after all, there is something grand, as the
poet says, in constancy, and love, and the like; and I ought to pity
Rowland Prothero, if he really cares for me. And yet I don't; on the
contrary, I could be over head and ears in love with another man
to-morrow if he would only ask me; and he is gone away without telling
me that he cares for me, if he does, as I cannot help hoping. But
nothing shall induce me to give my heart to any one, unless I am asked
for it, of that I am resolved; no, not if I were to die in the struggle
to keep it.'
With this prudent and womanly resolution, Freda got up from her seat,
hastily put on her dress, and went to Miss Hall, to insist on dressing
her on that particular day.
'You must put on the pink and white muslin that you look so well in. I
insist on it, and will have my way to-night,' she said, and had her way
accordingly, and the satisfaction of hearing her father remark
afterwards, that he had 'not seen Miss Hall look so well for years. She
really was a very pretty ladylike person, and Mr Jones ought to think
himself very fortunate, and all that sort of thing.'
To judge from Mr Jones' manner and countenance, he did think himself
very happy and fortunate; and his happiness and good fortune had the
effect of making him so very agreeable, that Mr Gwynne was quite pleased
with him, and strongly urged his remaining some days at Glanyravon. But
this could not be, as he was engaged to be present at a meeting of the
Society for the Propagation of the Gospel the next day but one. To
Freda's indignation, her father engaged him in a game of chess, which
lasted the greater part of the evening; but as he seemed quite patient
under the infliction, and Miss Hall glad that he should be agreeable to
her kind friend, Mr Gwynne, Freda was obliged to give up her plan of
leaving them alone for the remainder of the evening, and to be content
with resolving that they should at least have the following morning to
themselves. This she effected, and was rewarded by a lusty squeeze of
the hand from the gentleman, when he took his leave, which she
afterwards declared to Miss Hall, would have made an Australian native
scream. Mr Gwynne sent Mr Jones to meet the train in his carriage, and
invited him to return as soon as he possibly could.
It may, perhaps, be as well to anticipate some of the events of this
story, and to say that in the course of three or four months, Mr Jones
and Miss Hall were married.
Soon after his return to London, Mr Jones was appointed brother curate
to Rowland Prothero, recommended by his friend, the rector. He undertook
this as temporary duty, because he was in expectation either of
obtaining a living or of returning to Australia; Miss Hall was quite
ready for either kind of work, feeling that, whether as the wife of a
clergyman at home or abroad, she would be most thankful to be permitted
to devote herself to her woman's part of missionary labour. Mr Jones had
a small income as secretary to one of the London and Colonial religious
societies, and was also engaged in work for the S.P.G., which, together
with his curacy, and the small savings of twenty years abroad, enabled
him to take and furnish a home for his wife, and gave them the prospect
of comfort, if not of ease and riches. Their desires were very moderate,
and their hopes fixed on objects beyond the general scope of vision; so
that they were content to 'live by the day,' and trust for the rest. The
world called them romantic and foolish for people of their ages; they
'knew in whom they believed,' and, 'having food and raiment, were
therewith content.'
Gladys had been installed in her offices of parcel lady's-maid, parcel
school-mistress at the Park, nearly three months, when the wedding took
place. She had largely contributed towards making Miss Hall's simple
wardrobe and wedding gear, and was rewarded by being allowed to marshal
the school children on the happy-day, as they lined the drive at the
Park gates, on the going forth and return of the bridal party. She was,
moreover, the one selected by the children to present Miss Hall with a
handsome Bible in Welsh and English, in token of their gratitude and
love for her. Mr Jones had been too much engaged in London to allow of
his visiting Wales until two or three days before his marriage, during
which time he had occasionally met, and spoken kindly to Gladys, and
given her a book on Missionary subjects, which he had brought purposely
for her, expecting to find her at the farm. He had also carried pleasant
news of Rowland to Mrs Prothero, and frequently spoken of him to Mr
Gwynne and Freda--of his earnestness in his profession, and of the love
and esteem in which he was held by his rector and his flock.
Freda felt very lonely when her dear Serena was gone. She had no one
amongst her immediate neighbours for whom she cared much. The general
round of country dinner-parties she had always found very dull, and the
annual hunt week and assize balls she had never liked; so she found
herself again thrown quite upon her own resources. As long as Colonel
Vaughan had been in the country, she had taken an interest in
everything; when he left, her ordinary pursuits--her riding, painting,
music, garden--in all of which he had aided her, suddenly lost their
charm. Her friend's marriage came about just when she wanted an object
of interest, and when that was over she was thrown back upon herself.
By degrees, however, a healthier tone returned to her mind, and she
forgot the fascinating Colonel Vaughan, and recovered her interest in
her house, school, dogs, birds, garden, and the thousand and one small
objects that serve to make time pass cheerfully and happily in a country
home. Above all, she became more and more interested in Gladys, and
anxious to shelter her from the many dangers and temptations which she
saw her peculiar beauty and position subjected her to. She soon found
out that all the men-servants paid their devotions to her shrine, and
that even the ancient and portly butler was not indifferent to her
charms; but the simplicity and modesty of Gladys kept them all at a
respectful distance, and the housekeeper told Miss Gwynne, that 'Reelly,
she was quite a pattern in the servants' 'all, and it was a treat to see
a young 'oman who knew how to keep the men off--not but the girls were
as jealous of her as could be; but that wasn't to be wondered at, for
none of 'em was made anything of when Gladys was near.' Even Mr Gwynne
roused himself to make inquiries concerning Freda's pretty maid, which
was quite the crowning feather in Gladys' cap.