[Illustration: "They shouted and cheered; then Mr. Trelawny put his hand
on her head."
Page 310. _Esther's Charge._]
ESTHER'S CHARGE
A STORY FOR GIRLS
BY
E. EVERETT-GREEN
AUTHOR OF "SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS," "THE YOUNG PIONEERS,"
"IN THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY," ETC, ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER
CONTENTS.
I. A Little Manager, 1
II. The Boys, 26
III. An Anxious Charge, 52
IV. The Sweets of Freedom, 78
V. At the Crag, 104
VI. The Shorn Sheep, 130
VII. Days of Sunshine, 156
VIII. The City of Refuge, 182
IX. The Magician's Cave, 208
X. Confessions, 234
XI. Mr. Trelawny, 262
XII. A New Charge, 291
ESTHER'S CHARGE.
CHAPTER I.
A LITTLE MANAGER.
"Where is Miss Esther, Genefer?"
"I think she's at the linen-press, marm, putting away the things from
the wash."
"Tell her to come to me when she has done that. I want to speak to her."
"Yes, marm, I will. Can I do anything else for you?"
"No, thank you. I have all I want. But send Miss Esther to me quickly."
Mrs. St. Aiden was lying on a couch in a very pretty, dainty, little
room, which opened upon a garden, blazing with late spring and early
summer flowers. The lawn was still green, and looked like velvet, and
the beds and borders of flowers were carefully tended, as could be seen
at a glance. The gravel paths were rolled and weeded, and everything was
in exquisite order, both within and without the house. Everything also
was on a very small scale; and the lady herself, who was clad in deep
widow's weeds, was small and slim also, and looked as if she were
somewhat of an invalid, which indeed was the case.
Rather more than a year ago her husband had died after a very short
illness, and she had never been well since, although she was not exactly
ill of any disease. She was weak and easily upset, and she had to depend
a good deal upon her servants and her only daughter. She had never been
accustomed to think for herself. Captain St. Aiden had always done the
thinking and the managing as long as he lived, and the poor lady felt
very helpless when he was taken from her.
When the servant had gone she took up again a letter which she had been
reading, and kept turning the leaves of it over and over again, sighing,
and seeming troubled and perplexed. She also kept looking across the
room towards the door at short intervals, sometimes saying half aloud
as she did so,--
"I wish Esther would come!"
Presently the door opened, and a little girl came into the room with
very quiet steps. She was dressed daintily in a white frock, with black
sash and bows. She had a grave little face, that was generally rather
pale, and looked small beneath the wide brow and big gray eyes. Perhaps
it looked smaller for the flowing mass of wavy hair, a dusky chestnut
color, that flowed over the child's shoulders and hung below her waist.
It was very beautiful hair, soft and silky, with a crisp wave in it that
made it stand off from her face like a cloud. It looked dark in the
shadow, but when the sun shone upon it, it glistened almost like gold.
Mrs. St. Aiden was very proud of Esther's hair, and considered it her
chief beauty; but it was a source of considerable trouble to the little
girl herself, for it took a great deal of brushing and combing to keep
it in order, and tangled dreadfully when she played games. Then often
the weight and heat of it made her head ache, especially at night; and
she used to long to have a cropped head like other little children she
sometimes saw, or, at least, to have only moderately long hair, like her
two little friends at the rectory, Prissy and Milly Polperran.
"Did you want me, mama?" asked Esther, coming forwards towards the
couch.
"Yes, dear, I did. I want to talk to you about something very serious. I
have a letter here from your Uncle Arthur. He wants to send his two
little boys here for three years, because he has just got an appointment
that will take him out of the country all that time. I don't know what
to think about it; it is so very sudden."
It was sudden, and Mrs. St. Aiden looked rather piteously at Esther. It
seemed so hard for her to have to decide upon such a step in a hurry,
and her brother wanted an answer at once. He had to make his own
arrangements very quickly.
Esther was quite used to being her mother's confidante and adviser. Even
in her father's lifetime she had often been promoted to this post during
his frequent absences. When he lay dying, he had taken Esther's hands in
his, and looking into her serious eyes, so like his own, had told her
to take great care of mama always, and try to be a help and comfort to
her. Her father had often called her his "wise little woman," and had
talked to her much more gravely and seriously than most fathers do to
their young children. Esther, too, having no brothers or sisters, had
grown up almost entirely with her elders, and, therefore, she had
developed a gravity and seriousness not usual at her age, though she was
by no means lacking in the capacity for childish fun on the rare
occasions when she was free to indulge in it.
She was ten years old at this time, and she was not taller than many
children are at seven or eight; but there was a thoughtful look upon the
small face and in the big gray eyes which was different from what is
generally to be seen in the eyes of children of that age.
"Two little boys!" repeated Esther gravely; "they will be my cousins, I
suppose. How old are they, and what are their names, mama?"
"The elder is nine, and the other rather more than a year younger. He
does not mention their names, but I know the elder is called Philip,
after our grandfather. I'm not quite sure about the second. Arthur is
such a very bad correspondent, and poor Ada died when the second boy was
born. You see it was like this, Esther. The grandmother on the mother's
side kept house for him, and took care of the children after their
mother died--she was living with him then. She died a year ago, and
things have been going on in the same groove at his house. But now comes
this appointment abroad, and he can neither take the boys nor leave them
at home alone. They are not fit for school yet, he says. Of course they
are not ready for public school, but I should have thought they
might--well, never mind that. What he says is that they want taking in
hand by a good governess or tutor, and suggests that they should come to
me, and that I should find such a person, and that you should share the
lessons, and get a good start with your education."
Esther's eyes began to sparkle beneath their long black lashes. She had
an ardent love of study, and hitherto she had only been able to pick up
such odd crumbs as were to be had from the desultory teaching of her
mother, or from the study of such books as she could lay hands upon in
that little-used room that was called the study, though nobody ever
studied there save herself.
In her father's lifetime Esther had been well grounded, but since his
death her education had been conducted in a very haphazard fashion. She
had a wonderful thirst after knowledge, and in her leisure hours would
almost always be found poring over a book; but of real tuition she had
now hardly any, and the thought of a regular governess or tutor made her
eyes sparkle with joy.
"O mama! could we?"
"Could we what, Esther?"
"Have a governess or tutor here as well as two boys?"
"Not in the house itself, of course. But he or she could lodge in the
place, I suppose, and come every day. Your uncle is very liberal in his
ideas, Esther. He is going to let his own big house. He has had an offer
already, and he suggests paying over three or four hundred pounds a
year to me, if I will undertake the charge of the two boys. Of course
that would make it all very easy in some ways."
Esther's eyes grew round with wonder. She knew all about her mother's
affairs, and how difficult it sometimes was to keep everything in the
dainty state of perfection expected, upon the small income they
inherited. To have this income doubled at a stroke, and only two boys to
keep and a tutor's salary to pay out of it! Why, that would be a
wonderful easing of many burdens which weighed heavily sometimes upon
Esther's youthful shoulders. She had often found it so difficult to
satisfy her delicate mother's wishes and whims, and yet to keep the
weekly bills down to the sum Genefer said they ought not to exceed.
"O mama, what a lot of money!"
"Your uncle is a well-to-do man, my dear, and he truly says that terms
at good private schools, where the holidays have to be provided for as
well, run into a lot of money. And he does not think the boys are fit
for school yet. He says they want breaking in by a tutor first. They
have had a governess up till now, but he thinks a tutor would be better,
especially as there is no man in this house. I hope he does not mean
that the boys are very naughty and troublesome. I don't know what I
shall do with them if they are."
The lady sighed, and looked at Esther in that half helpless way which
always went to the little girl's heart. She bent over and kissed her
brow.
"Never mind, mama dear. I will take care of the boys," she said, in her
womanly way. "They are both younger than I. I think it will be nice to
have regular lessons again. I think papa would have been pleased about
that. And perhaps I shall like having boys to play with too; only it
will be strange at first."
"We could keep a girl, then, to help Genefer and Janet," said Mrs. St.
Aiden. "The boys will have to have the big attic up at the top of the
house, and the study to do lessons in. I hope they will not be very
noisy; and there is the garden to play in. But they must not break the
flowers, or take the fruit, or spoil the grass, or cut up the gravel.
You will have to keep them in order, Esther. I can't have the place
torn up by a pair of riotous boys."
"I will take care of them, mama dear," answered Esther bravely, though
her heart sank just a little at the thought of the unknown element about
to be introduced into her life. She had had so little experience of
boys--there was only little Herbert at the rectory who ever came here,
and he was quite good, and under the care of his elder sisters. Would
these boys let her keep them in order as Bertie was kept by Prissy and
Milly? She hoped they would, and she said nothing of her misgivings to
her mother.
"Do you think you will say 'yes' to Uncle Arthur?"
"I think I must, my dear. I don't like to refuse; and, of course, there
are advantages. Your education has been a difficulty. I have not the
health myself, and we cannot afford a governess for you, and this is the
first time Arthur has ever asked me to do anything for him. And, really,
I might be able to keep a little pony carriage, and get out in the
summer, with this addition to our income. I always feel that if I could
get out more I should get back my health much quicker."
Esther's eyes sparkled again at these words, and a little pink flush
rose in her cheeks. It was the thing of all others she had always wished
for her mother--a dear little pony, and a little low basket carriage in
which she could drive her out.
In father's days they had had one, and Esther had been allowed to drive
the quiet pony when she was quite a little child. But that belonged to
the old life, before the father had been taken away and they had come
here to live, right down in Cornwall, at this little quaint Hermitage,
as the house was called. Since then no such luxury could be dreamed of.
It had been all they could do to make ends meet, and keep the mother
content with what could be done by two maids, and one man coming in and
out to care for the garden. And even so, Esther often wondered how they
would get on, if it were not for all that Mr. Trelawny did for them.
"O mama!" she cried, "could we really have a pony again?"
"We will think about it. I should like to, if we could. It seems a pity
that that nice little stable should stand empty; and there is the little
paddock too. The pony could run there when he wasn't wanted, and that
would save something in his keep. I have always been used to my little
drives, and I miss them very much. But, of course, I shall not make up
my mind in a hurry. I should like to see Mr. Trelawny about it all even
before I write to Uncle Arthur."
A little shadow fell over Esther's face. She felt sure she knew what was
coming.
"I wish, dear, you would just run up to the Crag and ask Mr. Trelawny if
he would come down and see me about this."
The shadow deepened as the words were spoken, but Esther made only one
effort to save herself the task.
"Couldn't Genefer go, mama? It is so hot!"
"It will be getting cooler every hour now, and there is plenty of shade
through the wood. Have you had a walk to-day?"
"No, mama; I have been busy. Saturday is always a busy day, you know."
"Then a walk will do you good, and you will go much quicker than
Genefer. Bring Mr. Trelawny back with you if you can. You can tell him a
little about it, and he will know that it is important. You have time to
go and come back before your tea-time."
Esther did not argue the matter any more. She had never betrayed to any
living creature this great fear which possessed her. She was half
ashamed of it, yet she could never conquer it. She was more afraid of
Mr. Trelawny than of anything in the world beside. He was like the
embodiment of all the wizards, and genii, and magicians, and giants
which she had read of in her fairy story-books, or of the mysterious
historic personages over whom she had trembled when poring over the
pages of historical romance.
He was a very big man, with a very big voice, and he always talked in a
way which she could not fully understand, and which almost frightened
her out of her wits.
It was the greatest possible penance to have to go up to his great big
house on the hill, and she never approached it without tremors and
quakings of heart. She fully believed that it contained dungeons,
oubliettes, and other horrors. She had been told that the crags beneath
were riddled with great hollow caves, where monks had hidden in times of
persecution, and where smugglers had hidden their goods and fought
desperate battles with the excise officers and coast-guardsmen. The
whole place seemed to her to be full of mystery and peril, and the fit
owner and guardian was this gigantic Cornish squire, with his roiling
voice, leonine head, and autocratic air.
He was always asking her why she did not oftener come to see him, but
Esther would only shrink away and answer in her low, little voice that
she had so much to do at home. And then he would laugh one of his big,
sonorous laughs, that seemed to fill the house; and it was he who had
given her the name of the "little manager," and when he called her by it
he did so with an air of mock homage which frightened her more than
anything else. At other times he would call her "Goldylocks," and
pretend he was going to cut off her hair to make a cable for his yacht,
which lay at anchor in the bay; and he would tell her a terrible story
about a man who sought to anchor in the middle of a whirlpool, the cable
being made of maidens' hair--only the golden strand gave way, and so he
got drowned instead of winning his wife by his act of daring boldness.
This story was in verse, and he would roll it out in his big, melodious
voice; and she was always obliged to listen, for the fascination was
strong upon her. And then in the night she would lie shivering in her
bed, picturing Mr. Trelawny and his yacht going round and round in the
dreadful whirlpool, and her own chestnut-brown hair being the cable
which had failed to hold fast!
And yet Mr. Trelawny was a very kind friend to them. He was a relation,
too, though not at all a near one, and had been very fond of Esther's
father, who was his kinsman. When the widow and child had been left with
only a small provision, Mr. Trelawny had brought them to this pretty
house at the foot of the hill upon which his big one stood. He had
installed them there, and he would not take any rent for it. And he sent
down his own gardener several times a week to make the garden trim and
bright, and keep it well stocked with flowers and fruit.
Once a week he always came down himself and gave an eye to everything.
Mrs. St. Aiden looked forward to these visits, as they broke the
monotony of her life, and Mr. Trelawny was always gentle to the helpless
little widow. But Esther always tried to keep out of the way when she
could, and the worst of it was that she was afraid Mr. Trelawny had a
suspicion of this, and that it made him tease her more than ever.
However, she never disobeyed her mother, or refused to do what was asked
of her, and she knew that such a step as this one would never be taken
without Mr. Trelawny's approval. Indeed, she saw that he ought to be
asked, since the house was his; and, perhaps, he would not like two boys
to be brought there. Esther had heard that boys could be very
mischievous beings, and, though she could not quite think what they did,
she saw that the lord of the manor had a right to be consulted.
The Hermitage lay nestling just at the foot of a great craggy hill, that
was clothed on one side with wood--mostly pine and spruce fir; but on
the other it was all crag and cliff, and looked sheer down upon the
tumbling waves of the great Atlantic.
Near to the Hermitage, along the white road, lay a few other houses, and
the little village of St. Maur, with its quaint old church and pretty
village green. There were hills and moors again behind it, wild, and
bleak, and boundless, as it seemed to the little girl whenever she
climbed them. But St. Maur itself was a sheltered little place; the boom
of the sea only sounded when the surf was beating very strong, and it
was so sheltered from the wind that trees grew as they grew nowhere else
in the neighborhood, and flowers flourished in the gardens as Esther had
never seen them flourish in the other places where she had lived.
Geraniums grew into great bushes, and fuchsias ran right up the houses
as ivy did in the north, and roses bloomed till Christmas, and came on
again quite early in the spring, so that they seemed to have flowers all
the year round. That was a real delight to the little girl, who loved
the garden above any other place; and with a book and an apple, crouched
down in the arbor or some pleasant flowery place, she would find a
peace and contentment beyond all power of expression.
As she climbed the path through the pine woods leading to Mr. Trelawny's
great house, she began to wonder what it would be like to have her
precious solitude invaded by a pair of little boys.
"I wish they were rather littler, so that I could take care of them,"
said Esther to herself. "I should like to be a little mother to them,
and teach them to say their prayers, and wash their hands and faces, and
keep their toys nice and tidy. But perhaps they are too big to care for
being taken care of. If they are, I don't quite know what I shall do
with them. But we shall have lessons a good part of the day, I suppose,
and that will be interesting. Perhaps I shall be able to help them with
theirs. Only they may know more than I do."
Musing like this, Esther soon found herself at the top of the hill, and
coming out of the wood, saw the big, curious house right in front of
her. She never looked at it without a little tremor, and she felt the
thrill run through her to-day.
It was such a very old house, and there were such lots of stories about
it. Once it had been a castle, and people had fought battles over it;
but that was so long, long ago that there was hardly anything left of
that old building. Then it had been a monastery, and there were lots of
rooms now where the monks had lived and walked about; and the gardens
were as they made them, and people said that at night you could still
see the old monks flitting to and fro. But for a long time it had been a
house where people lived and died in the usual way, and Trelawnys had
been there for nearly three hundred years now.
Esther had a private belief that this Mr. Trelawny had been there for
almost all that time, and that he had made or found the elixir of life
which the historical romances talked about, so that he continued living
on and on, and knew everything, and was strange and terrible. He always
did seem to know everything that had happened, and his stories were at
once terrifying and entrancing. If only she could have got over her fear
of him, she would have enjoyed listening; as it was, she always felt
half dead with terror.
"Hallo, madam! and whither away so very fast?" cried a great deep voice
from somewhere out of the heart of the earth; and Esther stopped short,
with a little strangled cry of terror, for it was Mr. Trelawny's voice,
and yet he was nowhere to be seen.
"Wait a minute and I'll come!" said the voice again, and Esther stood
rooted to the spot with fear. There was a curious little sound of tap,
tap, tapping somewhere underground not far away, and in another minute a
great rough head appeared out of one of those crevices in the earth
which formed one of the many terrors of the Crag, and a huge man dragged
himself slowly out of the fissure, a hammer in his hand and several
stones clinking in one of his big pockets. He was covered with earth and
dust, which he proceeded to shake off as a dog does when he has been
burrowing, whilst Esther stood rooted to the spot, petrified with
amazement, and convinced that he had come up from some awful
subterranean cavern, known only to himself, where he carried on his
strange magic lore.
"Well, madam?" he said, making her one of his low bows. When he called
her madam and bowed to her Esther was always more frightened than ever.
"To what happy accident may I attribute the honor of this visit?"
"Mama sent me," said Esther, seeking to steady her voice, though she was
afraid to speak more than two or three words at a time.
"Ah, that is it--mama sent you. It was no idea of your own. Alas, it is
ever so! Nobody seeks the poor old lonely hermit for his own sake. So
mama has sent you, has she, Miss Goldylocks? And what is your errand?"
"Mama asks if you will please read this letter, and then come and see
her and advise her what to do."
Mr. Trelawny took the letter, gave one of his big laughs, and looked
quizzically at Esther.
"Does your mama ever take advice, my dear?"
Esther's eyes opened wide in astonishment.
"Yes, of course she does. Mama never does anything until she has been
advised by everybody."
The big, rolling laugh sounded out suddenly, and Esther longed to run
away. She never knew whether she were being laughed at herself, and she
did not like that thought.
"May I say you will come soon?" she asked, backing a little way down the
hillside.
"Wait a moment, child; I will come with you," answered the big man,
turning his fossils out of his pocket, and putting them, with his
hammer, inside a hollow tree. "Do you know what this letter says?"
"Oh yes; mama read it to me."
"Ah, of course. The 'little manager' must be consulted first. Well, and
what does she say about it?"
"Mama? Oh, I think----"
"No, not mama; the 'little manager' herself. What do you want to do
about it?"
Esther summoned up courage to reply sedately,--
"I think perhaps it might be a good plan. You see, I should get a good
education then, and I should like that very much. It would be a great
advantage in many ways----"
But Esther left off suddenly, for Mr. Trelawny was roaring with laughter
again.
"Hear the child!" he cried to the empty air, as it seemed; "she is asked
if she likes boy-playfellows, and she replies with a dissertation on the
advantages of a liberal education! Hear that, ye shades of all the
sages! A great advantage!--Yes, my dear, I think it will be a great
advantage. You will learn to be young at last, perhaps, after being
grown-up ever since you were shortened. A brace of boys will wake you up
a bit, and, if I read between the lines correctly, this pair are going
to turn out a precious pair of pickles."
Esther understood very little of this speech, but she tingled from head
to foot with the consciousness that fun was being poked at her.
"I think mama will do as you advise about it," she said, not being able
to think of anything else to say.
The big man in the rough clothes was looking down at her with a twinkle
in his eyes. He got hold of her hand and made her look up at him.
"Now tell me, child--don't be afraid to speak the truth--do you want
these young cubs to come, or don't you? Would it make life pleasanter to
you or only a burden?"
"I don't think I can quite tell till I've tried," said Esther, shaking
all over, but striving to keep her fears to herself; "but I think it
might be nice to have two little boys to take care of."
"To take care of, eh? You haven't enough on your hands as it is?"
"I used often to wish I'd a brother or a sister to play with; that was
before papa died. Since then I haven't had so much time to think about
it, but perhaps it would be pleasant."
"You do play sometimes then?"
"Yes; when the little Polperrans come to see me, or when I go to see
them."
"And you know how to do it when you try?"
Esther was a little puzzled, and answered doubtfully,--
"I know how to play the games they play. I don't know any besides."
Mr. Trelawny suddenly flung her hand away from him and burst into a
great laugh.
"I think I shall advise your mother to import these two young monkeys,"
he said over his shoulder; and to Esther's great relief, she was allowed
to walk the rest of the way home by herself, Mr. Trelawny striding on
at a great rate, and muttering to himself all the while, as was his
habit.
Later on, when he had gone back again, and Esther crept in her
mouse-like fashion to her mother's side, she found her closing a letter
she had just written.
"Mr. Trelawny advises me to have the boys, dear," she said; "so I have
been writing to your uncle. I suppose it is the best thing to do,
especially as Mr. Trelawny has undertaken to find a suitable tutor. That
would have been difficult for me; but he is a clever man, and knows the
world. He will be sure to select the right person."
"Yes, mama," said Esther gently; but she shook in her shoes the while. A
tutor selected by Mr. Trelawny might surely be a very terrible person.
Suppose he came from underground, and was a sort of magician himself!