Meantime in the schoolroom upstairs another blow had fallen, and Rowena
was quivering beneath the shock of discovering that in Miss Bruce's
absence it was she and not Etheldreda who was expected to carry on
Maud's education.
"I am sure you will be a conscientious teacher, dear; and I hope that
the regular occupation, and the consciousness that you are being of real
use will make life brighter for you. Maud will promise to be an
industrious pupil, won't you, darling?"
Maud eyed Rowena's tragic countenance, and felt it wise to refrain from
rash protestations. She was longing to rush after Dreda to declaim
against this last injustice, and as her mother continued to address
herself pointedly to Rowena, taking no more notice of her own important
presence, she slipped softly from the room.
The two who were left, felt, the one a throb of relief, the other a
chill of acute discomfort, at finding themselves alone. The tie between
this mother and her eldest daughter was a very tender one, and in the
shock of the recent losses Mrs Saxon had unconsciously built much on
Rowena's sympathy and love. Rowena would help. Rowena would
sympathise; Rowena--herself a woman--would understand some things which
even the good husband could not grasp. In the happy, easy days of
prosperity, Rowena could always be relied on to be loving, dutiful, and
considerate--it was a shock to discover that these good qualities had
not enough foundation to withstand the test of adversity. Mrs Saxon
was not angry; only distressed and troubled afresh, and overwhelmingly
anxious to find the right way to her daughter's heart.
"Mother!" cried Rowena sharply. "_How_ did father lose his money? It
seems so strange that it should disappear all of a sudden like this. We
have always had plenty until now. Has he been speculating, or doing
something rash?"
The momentary pause before Mrs Saxon replied and the dignified lifting
of her gentle head were more eloquent than a spoken reproof.
"No, Rowena; there is no blame attaching to your father. There has been
a great failure in America, which has affected many of his investments.
We cannot reproach ourselves for any want of care, and that being so, we
must look upon this change of circumstances as coming to us from God's
hands, and try to learn the lessons which it is intended to teach. To
each of us, perhaps, our own task appears especially hard. You,
darling, have looked forward to a time of pleasure and gaiety, and it is
difficult to give it up cheerfully, and face living quietly in the
country and helping in the house. I understand; I've been a girl
myself, and I remember how I felt; but, darling, I am a woman now--
getting quite an old woman--and I have learnt my lessons. There is more
real joy and contentment to be gained by simply doing one's duty than in
all the balls and receptions of a London season, Rowena!"
Rowena sat dumb, her eyes fixed on the tablecloth, her long dark lashes
resting on her cheeks. Those were the sentiments you read in books, and
heard in sermons, but it was always grown-up people who voiced them;
grown-up people who, like mother, had had a good time in their own
youth, and were afterwards unreasonable enough to expect their children
to be resigned and middle-aged when they had just emerged from the
schoolroom. Rowena thought of the prospect which had stretched
dazzlingly before her but a week before; of the gaiety and variety of
amusement which had made so fair a dream, and contrasted it with the
prospect of an uneventful domestic life at the Manor--teaching Maud!
She pressed her lips together, and sat silent, feeling her mother's eyes
on her face; dreading to meet their tenderly reproaching gaze.
"That sounds strange to you, dear, and perhaps a little hard, but all
the same it is _true_. I do not minimise your disappointment, but for
the time being it is inevitable, and nothing remains but to face the
situation bravely. As the eldest daughter of the house more depends
upon you than upon any of the rest, and your opportunities will be
endless. You can be a great comfort to us, darling, or a great
additional care. It all depends upon the spirit in which you start the
new life--upon whether you look in or out--put yourself first, or think
of others."
Mrs Saxon paused again, and within Rowena's still form two contending
forces fought for victory. While one sullen spirit held her dumb, the
real self seemed to stand apart, reviewing her own conduct, and uttering
words of exhortation and appeal: "How hateful of you never to say a word
in reply! Poor mother! her voice trembled... It's hard on her, too.
If you could just put your arms round her neck and kiss her, and promise
to be good, it would comfort her ever so much. And you'd be happier
yourself. It only makes you more miserable to sulk, and be unkind.
Look up and smile, and promise to be nice." So urged the inner voice,
but alas, the fleshy eyelids seemed heavy as lead, and the lips remained
stiff and unmoveable. To all outward appearance there was no sign of
softening in the fixed face.
Mrs Saxon's heart sank heavily. Rowena's lack of response to her
appeal was a bitter disappointment; but she realised that it was useless
to prolong the interview. A few moments longer she waited, hoping
against hope for a word in reply, then stifling a sigh, she rose from
her seat.
"Well--I must go back to father. Look after the fire, darling, if you
are going to stay here. It is getting low, and you must not catch
cold."
She bent as she passed to kiss the unresponsive lips, and walked from
the room carrying a heavy heart in her breast. "If she had only spoken!
If she had even looked up and smiled!" Such was the wounded mother
cry; and all the time Rowena's heart was speeding unspoken messages
after her as she went.
"Mother! I'm sorry. You are so sweet, and I am a wretch! I _will_
try! I'll try my best!"
Alas! the ears of sense could not catch the message, and so the
opportunity passed, and left both hearts aching and oppressed.