CECILIA AND THE COUNTESS.
_Second Letter From_ MISS COLLUMPTON _in London to_ Miss Browne _in the
country_.
"My Dearest Mora,-- . . . The close of my last letter left Clement and
me in a hansom cab in the act of being driven to the lodgings of Mrs.
Fildew. Clement told me that his mother had lately moved into fresh
apartments no great distance from his studio. I cannot tell you how
nervous I became as the moment of my introduction to Mrs. Fildew drew
near. What if I should read in her eyes that she thought her son had
chosen unwisely? It would not have mattered so much if Clement had not
set such store by her opinion--if his love had been of that lukewarm
kind which many grown-up sons have for their mother. But in this case
it was different, and unless I were loved and liked by Clement's
mother I should feel as if I possessed only half of Clement's heart.
"At length the cab stopped and my pulses beat faster than ever. Three
minutes later I found myself in Mrs. Fildew's presence--found myself
on my knees by her side, while her hands, that trembled a little,
rested for a few moments on my hair and her eyes gazed anxiously and
inquiringly into mine. Then she bent forward a little and pressed her
lips to my forehead.
"'My boy has told me how much he loves you,' she said. 'But I welcome
you here, not for his sake only, but for your own also. I often used
to wish that Heaven had given me a daughter. At last my prayer has
been answered.' Then she kissed me again, and after that I sat down
close beside her, but she still kept possession of one of my hands and
caressed it softly with hers.
"Mrs. Fildew is a pale and delicate-looking elderly lady, with a thin,
worn face and a profusion of snow-white hair. When young she must have
been very beautiful. I think I told you in my last letter that she has
been a confirmed invalid for years. She cannot walk more than a few
yards without great pain and difficulty. From the time she rises till
the time she goes to bed she sits in a large easy-chair that runs on
noiseless wheels, which Clement has had specially made for her. She
can work the wheels with her hands, and so propel herself to any part
of the room at will. She keeps one servant, a strong, middle-aged
woman, who has been with her several years. Sometimes, on sunny
afternoons, Mrs. Fildew and her chair are carried downstairs, and
Martha takes her mistress for an airing up and down some of the
streets where there is not much traffic, or as far as a certain
florist's where they have fresh flowers in the window every morning.
"Once a week Clement comes with an open carriage and takes his mother
for a drive into the country. The next time they go on one of these
expeditions I am to go with them.
"Presently Martha brought in tea, which we drank out of quaint old
biscuit-china, the cups being without handles, and the saucers
excessively shallow. We had thin bread-and-butter, watercresses,
sardines, damson jam, and a cake from the confectioner's. The tea
itself was simply delicious--far superior to any that we ever have at
home. The truth is, I suppose, that our servants don't know how to
make tea properly; or else, which is quite as likely, they keep the
best of it for themselves and only send us up what they leave. I don't
think that I ever tasted watercresses before that afternoon; you have
no idea how nice they are. To eat them is to be put in mind of country
streamlets and all the sights and sounds that go with them--of hidden
waterways that betray themselves by their babbling, and--But I 'loiter
round my cresses.'
"This six-o'clock tea, with thin bread-and-butter and watercresses, is
an 'institution' that I shall never despise again.
"When tea was over Clement had to go out on business, and Mrs. Fildew
and I were left alone. Why do women seem all at once to become so
confidential towards each other the moment there is no longer a man in
the room? I say 'seem,' because such confidences are generally more
apparent than real. Mrs. Fildew and I followed the universal rule.
Although Clement was so dear to us, and although we talked of nothing
in his absence that we might not have said freely before his face, yet
the moment he had left the room a spell seemed taken off our tongues,
and we both felt that we were going to enjoy a good long talk.
"I hope your situation is a comfortable one, my dear, and that you
like it?' said Mrs. Fildew.
"I had to think for a moment, and call to mind what my situation was
supposed to be before answering her that I liked it exceedingly.
"'Companion to a young lady, is it not? Yes. Well, I'm glad to hear
that you are comfortable. Of course, you have nothing to do with
cooking or the superintendence of housework?'
"'Nothing whatever, Mrs. Fildew.'
"'Do you know, my dear, I think that's rather a pity.'
"Why so, Mrs. Fildew?'
"'Because Clement is far from being a rich man, although, of course,
there is no knowing what his talents may do for him in time to come,
and it would be just as well that his wife should know how to manage
and look after a small establishment without trusting too implicitly
to her servants. But probably you had some training in such matters
when you were a girl at home?'
"'Very little training of that kind,' I said rather bitterly. My face
burned, and I felt humiliated by my ignorance.
"'Dear, dear! all young girls ought to be taught how to manage a
house,' continued Mrs. Fildew, in that soft, low voice of hers, which
seems as if it could never have spoken an unkind word to any one.
"'One is never too old to learn if one has a mind to do so, Mrs.
Fildew,' I said.
"'Well spoken, my dear. The will to learn and a little perseverance
will work wonders. I don't suppose that Clement will be able to afford
more than one servant at first, and for twelve or fourteen pounds a
year you can't expect to get a good cook, especially when she has to
do the rest of the housework as well. Therefore it is all the more
necessary that her mistress should be able to take an active part in
all home matters. But I am afraid that you are underrating your
knowledge. A woman who can roast a leg of mutton--or see it properly
roasted--and who is not above beating up a pudding now and then, or
turning out a little light pastry, need never be afraid of getting
married.'
"'But, dear Mrs. Fildew, I can't do any of the things you mention,' I
cried, with consternation. 'I never made a pudding or a bit of pastry
in my life; and as for cooking a joint, I am afraid it would not be
fit to send to table by the time I had done with it.'
"The dear old lady's busy fingers ceased their movements. She looked
at me in silence for a moment, but I thought that her look seemed to
say, 'Then, pray, young lady, what is there that you can do?'
"'People are generally what, they are taught to be,' I said, between
laughing and crying. 'I cannot bake, or boil, or make preserves, but I
know how to do one or two useless things. I can read Dante or Goethe
in the originals. I can sketch from nature. I can play on the piano
and the harp. People tell me that I can sing tolerably. I can drive, I
can ride, and I can swim.'
"'Then, my dear, you are far too clever a young lady to enter a
kitchen or look after the cooking of your husband's dinner. Clement
ought to be, and no doubt is, very proud to think that he has won your
heart; but you and he ought not to get married on less than a thousand
a year.'
"I looked at Mrs. Fildew, in doubt whether her last speech was not
meant as a sarcasm. But one glance into her dear face was enough to
satisfy my mind on that point. I don't believe that she ever gave
utterance to a sarcastic speech in her life. I am not aware, Mrs.
Fildew, that I have expressed any anxiety to get married for ever such
a long time to come. I am quite willing to wait--for years.'
"'Perhaps so, my dear, but Clement may not be possessed of your
patience.'
"'But surely I shall have a voice in a matter of so much importance?'
"'Undoubtedly. But for all that, men generally contrive to get their
own way in these things, as you will find.'
"I confess, Mora, that the thought of this early marriage frightens
me. I ought to have bargained at the outset that it should not take
place for a couple of years at the soonest. I know that you, with your
strong mind, would say that it is not too late even now to 'put my
foot down' and vow that I won't be married till I'm ready to be. But
then, dear, I neither possess your strength of mind nor have you ever
been in love, so that, all things considered, I'm afraid my resistance
would be a very futile one. Methinks I hear you say, 'How humiliating
of Cecilia to make such a confession!' Even so, sweet one.
_N'importe_. I would not exchange my fetters for your freedom.
"'What a useless, good-for-nothing creature you must take me to be,
Mrs. Fildew,' I said, glad to get away from the marriage question.
"'Indeed, my dear, but there is no such thought in my head. You have
been brought up as if you were a young lady of fortune--that is all.
And, now I come to think of it, I doubt very much whether Clement
would allow his wife to trouble herself about kitchen arrangements or
the proper cooking of a dinner. Men nowadays seem to think their wives
are only made to be ornamental, and I suppose my boy will be no
exception to the rule. When I was young things were different.'
"'I'll buy a cookery-book to-morrow,' I cried in desperation. 'It is
never too late to learn.'
"Mrs. Fildew smiled at me, a little compassionately, as I thought.
"'It is never too late to make a good resolution,' she said. 'But if a
young woman has not been trained up to housekeeping ways at home, it
is not to be expected that she can take kindly to them when she grows
up. I wouldn't bother about it if I were you, my dear. I dare say
Clement will like you all the better for having been brought up as a
fine lady.'
"But I kept my word, and next day I made myself the happy possessor of
a cookery-book. My aunt never suspected that it was anything but a
novel when I brought it out after luncheon. I read page after page of
it, dipping here and there, till I had got a jumble of recipes mixed
higgledy-piggledy in my brain, and was in a pitiable state of
imbecility.
"Next morning I sought a private interview with Hannah, the cook, the
result of which was that, in return for a certain consideration, she
was to give me a lesson in the art of cookery of one hour's duration,
each morning. I have had five lessons already; they are immense fun,
and I can safely say that I never enjoyed my music-lessons half so
much. You shall have a practical proof of the progress I have made as
soon as you get back to Cadogan Place. We will have a little dinner
'all by our two selves,' as we used to say at school, every dish at
which shall be cooked by your Cecilia. I have written out the _menu_
already.
"Of course your comment on all this will be, 'Just like Cecilia--just
like her, to waste time and money over some scheme that can never
possibly be of any practical use either to herself or anybody else.'
But don't you know, dear, that knowledge is power? Besides, one never
can tell what may happen. Some day my husband may be a poor man, and
then I shall be able to astonish him. By-the-bye, do you know what a
roly-poly dumpling is? If you don't there is a treat in store for you.
I made a monster one yesterday for the servants. I will make a little
one for you and me when I get you back again.
"I don't think I have told you yet how Mrs. Fildew occupies her time.
She mends old lace for a large emporium at the West End. The way in
which she does it, so as to all but defy detection, is marvellous. It
seems to me a charming occupation for a poor gentlewoman, combining in
itself the practical and the æsthetical. I could sit and watch her for
hours as she deftly takes up stitch after stitch and loop after loop
till ragged leaf and frayed flower look as good as new.
"Clement had never talked to me much about his father, but from Mrs.
Fildew I learned several particulars concerning him. That he was a
gentleman born and a gentleman bred Mrs. Fildew was very particular in
striving to impress on my mind. It appears that they were married in
America, and there my Clement was born. Mr. Fildew, senior, it would
seem, was so entirely a gentleman that it was never expected of him
that he should do anything for a living. 'You know, dear, I am not a
lady by birth,' said Mrs. Fildew, frankly; therefore, of course, it is
only right and proper that I should work--in fact, I could not live
without it. And then there is Clement; so that, altogether, we are
very comfortable in our humble way.'
"Not knowing what to say, I said nothing.
"'My husband is from home just now,' continued Mrs. Fildew. 'If you
had been here three days ago you would have seen him. Some old friend
of his has come into a large property and has asked John to go down to
his place and put it into something like order for him. Of course,
this is not like any ordinary kind of work, or I should not have been
willing for him to go. It is merely a little service rendered by one
friend to another. My husband has been a gentleman all his life, and
it would never do for him to lower himself to any commonplace drudgery
now.'
"'I should very much like to see Mr. Fildew,' I said--and so I should.
I think I can understand now why Clement hardly ever mentions his
name.
"I don't expect him in town for two or three weeks, but when he does
come Clement must bring you and introduce you to him. There is an
aristocratic style, an air of distinction, about Mr. Fildew, which you
will not fail to recognize at once. Clement has the same style, only
in a lesser degree; but he will never be as handsome a man as his
father.'
"Presently Clement came in, and then we had some music. I find that my
boy,' as his mother fondly calls him, plays the violin. With that and
the piano, and your Cecilia's thin soprano, the evening was gone far
too quickly. It was a happy time. Ten o'clock brought a cab, and half
an hour later I was at home. Goodnight and God bless you. More
another day.
"Your affectionate friend, C. C."