THE BANQUET.
FOR some weeks all went on smoothly between Winifred and her pupils.
The needlework was transferred from the morning to the afternoon, and a
story or a reading was the reward of good behavior. Phyllis and Jemima,
the twins, were easily made amenable to discipline. Phyllis was a
lively, high-spirited girl, affectionate and truthful, taking the lead
in study and play, and maintaining a complete ascendency over Jemima,
who was slower and more disposed to indolence, but who followed her
sister's lead in everything, good and bad.
Winifred found the most difficulty in breaking up the habit of teasing
both their elder and younger sisters. Paulina's airs of superior
sanctity and wisdom, and Betty's passionate temper, offered a fair
mark for their girlish wit. Paulina usually received their assaults
in sullen silence and contempt, while a very little sufficed to throw
Betty into a passion of rage, in which she was like a mad creature for
a few minutes, and afterwards perfectly overwhelmed with penitence and
grief. These tempests were the more dangerous as the child's health was
very delicate, and she was subject to alarming swoons.
With Paulina, Winifred could not feel that she gained any ground. At
first, indeed, Paulina seemed much interested in talking about Lady
Peckham and her ways, though she was evidently unwilling to allow any
merit to a style of piety so very different from her own; and many
were the arguments she held with Winifred upon the subject. All at
once, just as Winifred seemed to be getting upon some terms of intimacy
and confidence with her, Paulina froze up again more entirely than
ever. She would not speak a word more than she could help on religious
subjects, or any other, and spent as much time as possible in her own
room; while her fastings and penances were renewed with redoubled
ardor. She asked and obtained permission to attend morning prayers at
the cathedral—a permission her mother granted all the more easily,
because Sir John Trelawny, the bishop, was noted as a very decided
Protestant, and was indeed one of the seven bishops who were soon
afterwards imprisoned by King James.
Lady Corbet only stipulated that her daughter should always be
accompanied by Molly, one of the maids, who was a great favorite
both with her and Ashwell, the old housekeeper. She had come highly
recommended, and was a well-mannered, smooth-spoken personage,
professing great devotion to the whole family and especially to Mrs.
Paulina. Winifred did not like her, and blamed herself for entertaining
a prejudice against such a useful and harmless person, but she could
not get rid of the feeling that Molly was somehow playing a double
part. As Phyllis said, she always looked as if she were watching
everything and everybody.
To judge by Paulina's face and manner, she found little comfort in her
church-going. She grew thin and pale every day, and often appeared in
the morning with her eyes swollen as if she had cried all night. She
professed to read a great deal in her own room, but she always excused
herself, if possible, from the Bible reading with which Winifred began
the morning lessons, and indeed almost always came in too late for
them, while her preoccupation told visibly upon her lessons, in which
Phyllis and even Jemima threatened to outstrip her.
"I shall have to speak to your mother, unless you take more pains
with your lessons, Paulina," said Winifred to her, one day, after the
children had left the room. "You set your sisters a very bad example.
What can they think of the effect of your religion, when they see you
growing more careless and neglectful of your duties every day? You
bring dishonor on the cause itself."
"I cannot help it," said Paulina. "I have something more important to
think about than tapestry work and tables."
"Your matters must be important indeed, if they are more so than the
duty imposed upon you by God Himself of obeying and honoring your
parents!" said Winifred, gravely. "You are cheating and deceiving them
by thus wasting your time and mine."
Paulina flushed scarlet, and then, bursting into tears, she ran out of
the room. From that time she was more careful with her lessons, but
the cloud of depression grew deeper every day, and Winifred began to
be seriously uneasy, and to debate with herself whether she ought not
to mention the matter to the girl's mother. But incidents were soon to
occur which would render any such explanation unnecessary, and which
put an end forever to all poor Betty's school-room troubles.
"Dear me, Mrs. Evans, I wonder if you can help me upon a pinch?"
exclaimed Lady Corbet one day, bursting into the school-room, evidently
in a great heat. "Here has Sir John sent up from the sugar-house to say
that he has a party of Londoners come to see the furnaces, and desiring
me to have a banquet prepared for them and be ready to receive them all
in half an hour. And there is the furniture in the great room to be
uncovered and dusted, and myself to be dressed—and how it is to be done
'I' don't know, for Ashwell has gone home to her mother, who is ill,
and the cook has no notion of anything beyond her saucepans. Do tell me
what I shall do, there's a dear!"
"If you will allow me, madam, I will arrange the banquet myself, and
that will allow you time to dress and to superintend the ordering of
the great rooms," said Winifred.
"Oh, my dear! But are you sere you know how? Sir John is very
particular."
"I think so," said Winifred, smiling. "I have often assisted Mrs.
Alwright. There is abundance of wall fruit now ripe, and if you will
allow me as many flowers as I need, and the help of Mrs. Paulina—"
"Take anything you need!" said Lady Corbet, evidently greatly relieved.
"You will find a tray and dishes in the great closet, and there is the
key of the store-room, where is abundance of preserved fruits, both
English and other. But use the Indian comfits as much as you can, for
Sir John will be glad to see them."
"Cannot we help too?" asked the twins and Betty, all in a breath.
"Not this time," said Winifred. "You have your lessons to learn, and,
having wasted so much time already this morning, I cannot allow you to
spend any more. Let me see when I come back that you have redeemed your
time, and with madam your mother's permission, I will bring you some
comfits."
"To be sure, poor wretches!" (Wretch, in those days, was a term of
endearment.) "Do just as you like, Mrs. Evans, only do have everything
ready in time!"
"No fear, madam. Give yourself no concern, only go and dress, and
we will have all things prepared," said Winifred, entering into the
spirit of the affair, which recalled to her mind some of the delightful
bustles at the Hall on similar occasions. "Run to the garden, Paulina,
and bring me all the red and white roses you can find, with plenty of
other flowers, and young lavender and rosemary shoots. Cut short stems,
and don't go off in a dream and forget what you are about!"
Paulina departed, and presently returned with her basket and apron full
of flowers. She found Winifred, with her gown tucked up and her ruffles
turned back, dishing out preserves, arranging comfits and spices
in numberless glass and china bowls, and piling up fruit in silver
baskets. All these bowls and baskets, being arranged in symmetrical
order in the large wooden trays which stood on the table, and decked
with quantities of flowers, constituted the banquet which it was the
custom to serve up to guests like those Lady Corbet expected. Paulina
looked on in wonder and admiration, as Winifred contrived, arranged,
and planned, harmonizing forms and colors with the eye of a born artist.
"That is really beautiful!" said she, as Winifred stepped back to
contemplate her work. "All I have ever seen before were just heaps
of good things piled up any how. And you really take pleasure in the
work!" she added, looking at Winifred's delicately flushed cheeks
and sparkling eyes. "I don't see how one like you can care for such
matters. In an hour all this will be ruined and scattered, and who will
be the better for all your toil?"
"Ever so many people!" said Winifred. "I shall be the better for having
pleased madam your mother, who has been kind to me. Madam will be
pleased because Sir John is, and Sir John will be gratified at having
done due honor to his guests. Besides, I love the work. It recalls the
happiest days of all my life, when I used to help my dear lady at the
Hall."
"I should not think my cousin would have cared for such worldly
trifles," said Paulina.
"My dear lady cared for anything which would give pleasure to others,"
said Winifred. "I have seen her spend hours over Sir Edward's laced
bands and ruffles because no one else could do them so much to his
mind. Ah, my dear, when you come to look rightly at life, you will find
that the least trifles may be sanctified by being directed and done to
our dear Divine Master. But we will talk of that another time. I hear
your mother coming from her room; please ask her to step this way."
Lady Corbet held up her hands.
"You are a jewel—a perfect jewel, Mrs. Evans! I must have you for my
own. That comes from your good bringing up. But I must certainly have
you with me all the time. You would be worth all the other women in the
house to me."
"I am sure, madam, Ashwell does her best," said Paulina. "She has been
a faithful servant for many years, and it would be hard to turn her
away for a stranger."
"And pray, Mistress Malapert, who talks of turning her away, or who
asked your advice in the matter at all?" said Lady Corbet, turning
sharply round. "When I want your counsel, I will ask for it. There,
child, I did not mean to be sharp with you, but you do vex me past
endurance—always taking it for granted that one means to do the
worst thing possible, and taking elders and betters to task on every
occasion. When I was at your age, I should have felt the rod for such a
speech, aye, or such a look, either. There, go to the school-room and
keep your sisters in order, while Mrs. Evans remains here to send in
the refreshments. The child does put me past patience with her airs,"
she added, as Paulina departed, with the look of one going to the
stake. "Just think of her taking upon her to lecture her own godmother,
my old Aunt Norton, as good a woman as ever breathed, because the poor
old lady took her knitting upon Ash-Wednesday!"
"Yet Mrs. Paulina seems, too, as if she were trying to do right," said
Winifred. "I do not understand it."
"Oh! Trying to do right. One may try too much, in my opinion. I have no
fancy for these over-righteous people. But there is the knocker, and I
must go. I trust all to you, my dear. I am sure all will go well."
Fortunately all did go well, until just as the last tray of sweetmeats
was sent in, when Phyllis, with a scared, pale face, peeped into the
little store-room.
"Please, Mrs. Evans, will you come up to the school-room? We can't do
anything with Betty."
"What is the matter, and why should you do anything with Betty?" asked
Winifred. "Have you been teasing your little sister again, Phyllis?"
"I am sure we did not mean anything," said Phyllis, looking very much
ashamed, "only she is so cross. But Paulina needn't have shook her so.
But please, Mrs. Evans, do hurry, before madam hears Betty!"
Winifred looked about her to see that everything was safe, and then
hurried up to the school-room. As she opened the green baize door, she
was startled by hearing a shriek from Betty very different from her
usual scream of passion—an unmistakable cry of pain. She opened the
school-room door. Betty stood in the corner of the room, with both
hands pressed to her side, sobbing at every breath, and shrieking
at every third respiration. Jemima was trying to pacify her, while
Paulina sat in the window, endeavoring very unsuccessfully to appear
unconscious of what was going on. In an instant Winifred saw that
something serious was the matter.
"Come here to me, Betty!" she said, in her gentle tone of authority.
"Mrs. Paulina, open the window at once—throw the casement wide.
Phyllis, run and bring a glass of wine and some cool water; you will
find them in the store-room. Jemima, come and unloose your sister's
stays and gown while I hold her in the fresh air."
"Really, Mrs. Evans," began Paulina, but a louder cry from Betty
stopped her words, and the child's head sank back upon her friend's
shoulder.
"She is dead!" shrieked the twins.
"No; I think she has only fainted," said Winifred, trying to speak
calmly, though she was herself alarmed at the child's ghastly
appearance. "Paulina, did not Lady Corbet say that a doctor from London
was to be among the guests?"
But Paulina, pale as death and trembling in every limb, could remember
nothing.
"She did, I know," said Phyllis, who possessed more ready wit and
presence of mind than all the rest together. "Doctor Mercer was his
name."
"Very well. Now I am going to lay Betty upon the window seat, where the
fresh air will blow upon her. Do you, Phyllis, bathe her face with the
strong waters, and, Jemima, fan her. Be steady and quiet like sensible
girls till I come back."
The twins, quieted by the trust imposed upon them, promised to obey,
and Winifred was soon at the drawing-room door, asking to speak to Lady
Corbet.
"Why, what has happened, child? You are as white as your cap! You have
not broken the great standing china bowl, have you?"
"No, madam!" said Winifred, hardly able to suppress a smile even there,
to see how the good lady's housekeeping instinct came uppermost. "But
Betty has fainted, and I fear she is going to be very ill. Will you
please come and bring the doctor with you?"
On ordinary occasions, when annoyed, Lady Corbet was as fussy and
flustered as an old hen, but any real emergency always made her quiet
and sensible at once.
"Ah, poor child! Hath she had another swoon? Pray go back to her, Mrs.
Winifred, and I will bring the doctor directly."
Winifred hurried back as desired, and found that Betty had revived,
but was still in great pain, unable to draw a long breath or to move.
Phyllis was supporting her in an upright position as well as she could,
and Jemima was fanning her, while Paulina had thrown herself upon the
floor in the farthest corner of the room, and was leaning her head upon
a chair.
"O Mrs. Evans, help me! Don't let me die!" gasped the poor child. "Oh!
Am I dying?"
"I trust not, my dear. Do not be alarmed!" said Winifred, cheerfully.
"See, you are better already, and here is your mother with the good
doctor from London. Now be a good maid, and do as you are bid, and I
trust all will be well."
"What's this? The window open, and the air blowing in the child's
face!" exclaimed Lady Corbet, who had all the dread of fresh air
natural to an Englishwoman of the time, or indeed of any time.
"Of course! Where should it blow?" returned the doctor, roughly but not
unkindly. "When people are gasping for breath, they need fresh air,
though I wonder how my young mistress came by sense enough to give it
to her. Hold her more upright still—ah! That will do. Let me have your
hand, my little girl. Ah! I see. Have you given her anything?" sharply
to Winifred.
"Nothing," said Winifred. "I sent for some wine, but she had fainted
before it came."
"Just as well. She must have an anodyne at once. Bring me some syrup, a
spoon, and water."
"In the store-room, Phyllis!" said Winifred. "Quickly, my dear."
Phyllis was back almost before the words were spoken, and the doctor
prepared the anodyne with his own hands. There had always been a great
struggle to make Betty take medicine, but her own alarm and distress
and the ascendency Winifred had already obtained over her rendered her
docile.
"Now, she must be put to bed, and kept absolutely quiet," said the
doctor. "This young lady—I have not the honor of knowing her name—seems
to have her wits at her fingers' ends. Let her stay with the child and
sit up with her to-night. You, madam, keep the house very quiet. I
am to be in town some days, and I will look in upon you again in the
morning."
"What causes these attacks, doctor?" asked Lady Corbet, after Betty had
left the room.
"Heart disease," answered Doctor Mercer, briefly. "I am sorry to shock
you, madam, but it is but right you should know, in order to guard
against them, since every paroxysm she has is just so much ground lost.
With care, she may outgrow them, but she is likely enough to die in any
one. You must avoid all cause of excitement with her; never let her be
struck or shaken; above all, taken roughly by the left arm. One such
shock may be fatal."
Paulina, in her dark corner, buried her face deeper at these words,
as she remembered how sharply she had shaken Betty by that very arm,
and how thin and fragile it had felt in her grasp. The twins heard it
also as they clung together in the window, and promised each other in
whispers that they would never, no, never tease Betty again, no matter
what she did, if God would only spare her this time.
"And what about this fever, doctor, that they say is in the town? Can
one do anything to keep it off by fumigations or the like?"
"The best way to keep it off is to use plenty of air and cleanliness,"
replied Doctor Mercer, who was so far in advance of his age as to be
accounted almost a heretic by his learned brethren. "Use good food in
moderation, and see that your work-people and the poor about you have
the same, and leave the rest to God."
"But you will come and see my poor Betty again in the morning?" urged
the anxious mother.
"To be sure! I said so. By the way, who is this young gentlewoman who
seems to understand herself so well? A kinswoman of your own?"
"Nay, I cannot call her a kinswoman exactly, though she is a connection
of my cousin Margaret, Lady Peckham of Holford, and was indeed partly
brought up by her," answered Lady Corbet, who never failed to sport the
Peckhams of Holford on every possible occasion. "Her father was captain
of a vessel sailing from this port, and son of a Somersetshire yeoman
of good estate, but her mother was daughter to a Devonshire gentleman
of very old family. She is daily governess to my daughters, and I am
so much pleased with her that I think of taking her into my house
altogether."
"So she is an orphan?" said the doctor. "Well, madam, follow my
directions, and I trust all will be well, but above all keep the house
quiet. I will not answer for consequences should the child be suddenly
awakened."
"Well, maidens, you have heard what the good doctor has said," said
Lady Corbet. "Let me see how quiet you can be. I must say you have
behaved well and shown yourselves sensible girls. But where is Paulina?"
"Here, madam!" said Paulina, lifting her pale, tear-stained face from
the chair on which it had been hidden; and then, throwing herself at
her mother's feet, she exclaimed, in a suppressed voice: "It was all
my fault, mother—all, all! Beat me if you will or turn me out of the
house, for I deserve it all!"
"Hush, hush, child! It is a good thing to own your fault, and I am glad
to see it, but don't go into hysterics, and wake your poor sister.
Phyllis, you can tell a straight story. Let me hear an account of the
whole from you."
There did not seem to be so very much to tell. The twins had been
teasing Betty with rough play, while Paulina was reading as usual in
her corner. Finally Betty fell over a footstool against Paulina, and
knocked her book out of her hand. Betty cried out.
"And then," concluded Phyllis, "Paulina shook her hard, and slapped her
shoulders two or three times with the book, to make her stop screaming.
Then when she would not stop, Paulina set her in the corner, and shook
her again. Then I was frightened because Betty looked so bad, and I ran
and called Mrs. Evans."
"It is all true!" said Paulina, between her sobs. "I have killed the
child! It was all my wicked temper because you sent me up-stairs. I
have done all the mischief."
Lady Corbet was amazed. It was the first time Paulina, had ever accused
herself of a fault. She administered lectures and pardons all round,
was certain they would never be so bad again, sent for some of the
relics of the banquet to make them a feast, and, when it was plain that
Paulina could not eat, made her a cup of tea (then a very uncommon
luxury), and sent her to bed to sleep off her headache.