“Scorn not the smallness of daily endeavour,
Let the great meaning ennoble it ever,
Droop not o’er efforts expended in vain,
Work, as believing, that labour is gain.”
Queen Isabel, &c. by S. M.
The sturdy recusant against Myrtlewood croquet continued to be Rachel
Curtis, and yet it was not a testimony against the game so much as real
want of time for it. She was always full of occupation, even while her
active mind craved for more definite and extended labour; and when she
came upon the field of strategy, it was always either with some business
before her, or else so late that the champions were only assisting their
several lags to bring the battle to an end.
If there had been a will there would have been a way, but, as she said,
she saw enough to perceive that proficiency could only be attained at
the cost of much time and study, and she did not choose to be inferior
and mediocre. Also, she found occupations open to her elsewhere that
had long been closed or rendered unpleasant. Mr. Touchett had become
wonderfully pacific and obliging of late, as if the lawn tactics
absorbed his propensities for offence and defence, he really seemed
obliged for one or two bits of parish work that she attended to;
finding that between him and his staff of young ladies they were getting
omitted. Somehow, too, an unaccountable blight was passing over the
activity of those curatolatresses, as Rachel had been wont to call them;
they were less frequently to be met with popping out of the schools and
cottages, and Rachel, who knew well all the real poor, though refusing
the bonds of a district, was continually detecting omissions which she
more often supplied than reported. There was even a smaller sprinkling
at the weekly services, and the odd thing was that the curate never
seemed to remark or be distressed by the change, or if any one spoke
of the thin congregation he would say, winter was the Avonmouth season,
which was true enough, but the defaulters were mostly his own peculiar
followers, the female youth of the professional and mercantile
population.
Rachel did not trouble herself about the cause of all this, indeed she
was too much occupied with the gradual gliding into somewhat of her
original activity and importance in the field thus left open to her.
None the less, however, did she feel the burden of life’s problems; the
intercourse she had enjoyed with Colonel Keith had excited her for a
time, but in the reaction, the old feelings returned painfully that the
times were out of joint; the heavens above became obscure and misty as
before, the dark places of the earth looked darker than ever, and those
who lived at ease seemed to be employed either in sport upon the outside
of the dungeon where the captives groaned, or in obstructing the way of
those who would fain have plunged in to the rescue.
Her new acquaintance, Mr. Mauleverer, was an example of such prevention,
which weighed much on her mind. He had been perfectly unobtrusive,
but Mrs. Curtis meeting him on the second day of his sketching, had
naturally looked at his drawing, and admired it so much that she brought
her daughters to see it when in course of completion the next day. He
had then asked whether there would be any objection to his making use of
the sketches in the way of remunerative sale. Mrs. Curtis looked rather
taken aback, it hardly agreed with her exclusive notions of privacy, and
he at once apologized with such humility that she was touched, and felt
herself doing him a wrong, whilst Rachel was angry at her scruple, yet
uncomfortably thought of “that landscape painter,” then said in her
decided way, “you did not mean to object, mother?”
“Oh, not for a moment, pray don’t think of it,” returned Mr. Mauleverer,
in haste. “I would not think of the intrusion. It is only that these
poor trifles are steps to one of the few means by which I can still hope
to do even a little for my fellow creatures; the greatest solace that
remains to me.”
“My mother did not mean to prevent anything,” said Rachel eagerly;
“least of all any means of doing good.”
“Indeed, I cannot but be aware that Miss Curtis is the last individual
who would do so, except indeed by the good works she herself absorbs.”
“You are too good, sir,” returned Mrs. Curtis; “I am sure I did not mean
to object to anything for good. If it is for a charity, I am sure some
of our friends would be very glad to take some sketches of our scenery;
they have been begging me this long time to have it photographed. I
should like to have that drawing myself, it would please your aunt so
much, my dear, if we sent it to her.”
Mr. Mauleverer bowed, but Rachel was not sure whether he had not been
insulted.
Next day he left at the door the drawing handsomely mounted, and looking
so grand and meritorious that poor Mrs. Curtis became much troubled in
mind whether its proper price might not be five or even ten guineas,
instead of the one for which she had mentally bargained, or if this
might not be the beginning of a series; “which would be quite another
thing, you know, my dear.”
Rachel offered to go and talk to the artist, who was sketching in full
view from the windows, and find out what value he set upon it.
“Perhaps, but I don’t know, my dear. Won’t it be odd? Had you not better
wait till Grace comes in, or till I can come down with you?”
“No need at all, mother, I can do it much better alone, and at my age—”
So Rachel took a parasol and stepped out, looked at the outline newly
produced, thanked and praised the drawing that had been received, adding
that her mother would be glad to know what price Mr. Mauleverer set
upon it. She was met by a profession of ignorance of its value, and
of readiness to be contented with whatever might be conferred upon his
project; the one way in which he still hoped to be of service to his
fellow creatures, the one longing of his life.
“Ah!” said Rachel, greatly delighted with this congenial spirit, and as
usual preferring the affirmative to the interrogative. “I heard you
had been interesting yourself about Mrs Kelland’s lace school. What a
miserable system it is!”
“My inquiries have betrayed me then? It is indeed a trying spectacle.”
“And to be helpless to alleviate it,” continued Rachel. “Over work, low
prices and middle-men perfectly batten on the lives of our poor girls
here. I have thought it over again and again, and it is a constant
burden on my mind.”
“Yes, indeed. The effects of modern civilization are a constant burden
on the compassion of every highly constituted nature.”
“The only means that seems to me likely to mitigate the evil,” continued
Rachel, charmed at having the most patient listener who had ever fallen
to her lot, “would be to commence an establishment where some fresh
trades might be taught, so as to lessen the glut of the market, and to
remove the workers that are forced to undersell one another, and thus
oblige the buyers to give a fairly remunerative price.”
“Precisely my own views. To commence an establishment that would drain
off the superfluous labour, and relieve the oppressed, raising the whole
tone of female employment.”
“And this is the project you meant?”
“And in which, for the first time, I begin to hope for success, if it
can only receive the patronage of some person of influence.”
“Oh, anything I can do!” exclaimed Rachel, infinitely rejoiced. “It is
the very thing I have been longing for for years. What, you would form
a sort of industrial school, where the children could be taught some
remunerative labour, and it might soon be almost self-supporting?”
“Exactly; the first establishment is the difficulty, for which I have
been endeavouring to put a few mites together.”
“Every one would subscribe for such a purpose!” exclaimed Rachel.
“You speak from your own generous nature, Miss Curtis; but the world
would require patronesses to recommend.”
“There could be no difficulty about that!” exclaimed Rachel; but at
this moment she saw the Myrtlewood pony carriage coming to the door, and
remembering that she had undertaken to drive out Ermine Williams in it,
she was obliged to break off the conversation, with an eager entreaty
that Mr. Mauleverer would draw up an account of his plan, and bring it
to her the next day, when she would give her opinion on it, and consider
of the means.
“My dear,” said her mother, on her return, “how long you have been; and
what am I to give for the water-colour?”
“Oh, I forgot all about the water-colour; but never mind what we give,
mamma, it is all to go to an asylum for educating poor girls, and giving
them some resource beyond that weary lace-making—the very thing I have
always longed for. He is coming to settle it all with me to-morrow, and
then we will arrange what to give.”
“Indeed, my dear, I hope it will be something well managed. I think if
it were not for those middle-men, lace-making would not be so bad. But
you must not keep poor Miss Williams waiting.”
Ermine had never seen Rachael in such high spirits as when they set out
through the network of lanes, describing her own exceeding delight in
the door thus opening for the relief of the suffering over which she had
long grieved, and launching out into the details of the future good
that was to be achieved. At last Ermine asked what Rachel knew of the
proposer.
“Captain Keith, heard he was a distinguished professor and essayist.”
“Then I wonder we have not heard his name,” said Ermine. “It is a
remarkable one; one might look in the ‘Clergy List’ at Villars’s.”
“Villars called him a clerical gentleman,” mused Rachel.
“Then you would be sure to be able to find out something about him
before committing yourself.”
“I can see what he is,” said Rachel, “a very sensible, accomplished man,
and a great deal more; not exactly a finished gentleman. But that is no
objection to his doing a great work.”
“None at all,” said Ermine, smiling; “but please forgive me. We have
suffered so much from trusting too implicitly, that I never can think
it safe to be satisfied without thorough knowledge of a person’s
antecedents.”
“Of course,” said Rachel, “I shall do nothing without inquiry. I will
find out all about him, but I cannot see any opening for distrust.
Schemes of charity are not compatible with self-seeking and dishonesty.”
“But did I not hear something about opinions?”
“Oh, as to that, it was only Villars. Besides, you are a clergyman’s
daughter, and your views have a different colouring from mine. Modern
research has introduced so many variations of thought, that no good
work would be done at all if we required of our fellow-labourers perfect
similarity of speculative belief.”
“Yet suppose he undertook to teach others?”
“The simple outlines of universal doctrine and morality which are
required by poor children are not affected by the variations to which
investigation conducts minds of more scope.”
“I am afraid such variations may often reach the foundation.”
“Now, Miss Williams, I am sure you must often have heard it observed how
when it comes to real practical simple teaching of uninstructed people,
villagers or may be heathens, the details of party difference melt away,
and people find themselves in accordance.”
“True, but there I think party differences in the Church, and even the
variations between Christian sects are concerned, both being different
ways of viewing the same truth. These may, like the knights in the old
fable, find that both were right about the shield, both have the same
foundation. But where the foundation is not the same, the results of the
teaching will not agree.”
“Every one agrees as to morality.”
“Yes, but do all give a motive sufficient to enforce the self-denial
that morality entails? Nay, do they show the way to the spiritual
strength needful to the very power of being moral?”
“That is begging the question. The full argument is whether the full
church, say Christian system, exactly as you, as we hold it, is needful
to the perfection of moral observance. I don’t say whether I assent, but
the present question is whether the child’s present belief and practice
need be affected by its teacher’s dogmatic or undogmatic system.”
“The system for life is generally formed in childhood. Harvest depends
on seed time.”
“And after all,” added Rachel, “we have no notion whether this poor man
be not precisely of your own opinions, and from their fruits I am sure
you ought to claim them.”
“Their blossoms if you please,” laughed Ermine. “We have not seen their
fruits yet.”
“And I shall take care the fruits are not nipped with the blight of
suspicion,” said Rachel, good-humouredly.
However, after driving Ermine home, and seeing her lifted out and
carried into the house by her sister, Rachel did send the carriage back
by the groom and betake herself to Villars’s shop, where she asked for
a sight of the “Clergy List.” The name of Mauleverer caught her eye,
but only one instance of it appeared, and he was a cathedral canon, his
presentation dated in 1832, the time at which, judging from appearances,
the object of her search might have been born; besides, he rejoiced in
the simple name of Thomas. But Rachel’s search was brought to an abrupt
conclusion by the issue of Mr. Mauleverer himself from the reading-room
within the shop. He bowed and passed by, but Rachel for the life of her
could not hinder a burning colour from spreading to the very tips of
her ears; so certain did she feel that she was insulting him by her
researches, and that he perceived them. She felt absolutely ashamed to
see him the next day, and even in her dreams was revolving speeches
that might prove that though cautious and clear-sighted, she was neither
suspicious nor narrow-minded.
He came when some morning visitors were at the Homestead, prosy
neighbours whose calls were always a penance to Rachel, and the
butler, either from the manner of the inquiry or not regarding him as
drawing-room company, put him into the dining-room and announced, “Mr.
Mauleverer to see Miss Rachel.” Up jumped Miss Rachel, with “You’ll
excuse me, it is on business;” and went off highly satisfied that
“the mother” was hindered by politeness from making any attempt at
chaperonage either personally or through Grace, so unnecessary at her
age, for since Colonel Keith’s departure, Rachel’s age had begun to grow
on her again. She held out her hand as if to atone for her search, but
she found at once that it had been remarked.
“You were doing me the honour to look for my name in the ‘Clergy List,’
Miss Curtis,” he said.
“Yes, one is apt—,” faltered Rachel, decidedly out of countenance.
“I quite appreciate the motive. It is exactly in accord with Miss
Curtis’s prudence and good sense. I should wish to be fully explicit
before any arrangements are made. I am unhappily not in orders, Miss
Curtis. I know your liberality will regard the cause with leniency.”
“Indeed,” said Rachel, sufficiently restored to recall one of her
premeditated reassurances. “I can fully appreciate any reluctance to
become stringently bound to dogmatic enunciations, before the full
powers of the intellect have examined into them.”
“You have expressed it exactly, Miss Curtis. Without denying an iota of
them, I may be allowed to regret that our formularies are too technical
for a thoughtful mind in the present age.”
“Many have found it so,” returned Rachel, thoughtfully, “who only needed
patience to permit their convictions to ripen. Then I understand you, it
was a rejection on negative not positive grounds?”
“Precisely; I do not murmur, but it has been the blight of my life.”
“And yet,” said Rachel, consolingly, “it may enable you to work with
more freedom.”
“Since you encourage me to believe so, Miss Curtis, I will hope it, but
I have met with much suspicion.”
“I can well believe it,” said Rachel; “even some of the most superior
persons refuse to lay their hands to any task unless they are certified
of the religious opinions of their coadjutors, which seems to me like
a mason’s refusing to work at a wall with a man who liked Greek
architecture when he preferred Gothic!”
If Rachel had been talking to Ermine she might have been asked whether
the dissimilarity might not be in the foundations, or in the tempering
of the mortar, but Mr. Mauleverer only commended her liberal spirit, and
she thought it high time to turn from this subject to the immediate one
in hand. He had wished to discuss the plan with her, he said, before
drawing it up, and in effect she had cogitated so much upon it that her
ideas came forth with more than her usual fluency and sententiousness.
The scheme was that an asylum should be opened under the superintendence
of Mr. Mauleverer himself, in which young girls might be placed to learn
handicrafts that might secure their livelihood, in especial, perhaps,
wood engraving and printing. It might even be possible, in time, to
render the whole self-supporting, suppose by the publication of a little
illustrated periodical, the materials for which might be supplied by
those interested in the institution.
If anything could add to Rachel’s delight it was this last proposition.
In all truth and candour, the relief to the victims to lace-making was
her primary object, far before all besides, and the longing desire
of her heart for years seemed about to be fulfilled; but a domestic
magazine, an outlet to all the essays on Curatocult, on Helplessness,
on Female Folly, and Female Rights, was a development of the plan beyond
her wildest hopes! No dull editor to hamper, reject or curtail! She
should be as happy, and as well able to expand as the Invalid herself.
Mr. Mauleverer had brought a large packet of letters with him, in all
manner of hands. There were some testimonials from a German university,
and letters from German professors in a compromise between English and
German hand, looking impossible to read, also the neat writing and thin
wavy water-marked paper of American professors and philanthropists in
high commendation of his ability and his scheme, and a few others that
he said were of too private a nature to do more than show Miss Curtis
in confidence, but on which she recognised some distinguished names of
persons interested in Social Science. She would not wound his feelings
by too close an inquiry, but she felt armed at all points against
cavillers. Really, she began to think, it was a great pity Colonel Keith
should cross her path again, she had so much on her hands that it would
be a public misfortune if any one man’s private domestic love should
monopolize her; and yet, such was this foolish world, the Honourable
Mrs. Colin Keith would be a more esteemed lady patroness than Miss
Rachel Curtis, though the Curtises had been lords of the soil for many
generations, and Colonel Keith was a mere soldier of fortune.
One disappointment Rachel had, namely, that Mr. Mauleverer announced
that he was about to return to St. Herbert’s, the very large and
fashionable watering-place in the next indentation of the coast. He had
duties there, he said, and he had only come to Avonmouth for a brief
holiday, a holiday that was to result in such happy effects. He lived in
an exceedingly retired way, he said, being desirous of saving his small
private means for his great object, and he gave Rachel his address at
the chief printseller’s of the place, where his letters were left
for him, while he made excursions from time to time to study the
picturesque, and to give lectures on behalf of philanthropical subjects.
He offered such a lecture at Avonmouth, but Mr. Touchett would not
lend either school-room, and space was nowhere else available. In
the meantime a prospectus was drawn up, which Rachel undertook to get
printed at Villars’s, and to send about to all her friends, since a
subscription in hand was the first desideratum.
Never since she had grown up to be a thinking woman had Rachel been so
happy as with this outlet to her activity and powers of managing, “the
good time coming at last.” Eagerly she claimed sympathy, names and
subscriptions. Her own immediate circle was always easily under her
influence, and Lady Temple, and Mrs. Curtis supplied the dignity of lady
patronesses; Bessie Keith was immensely diverted at the development of
“that landscape painter,” and took every opportunity of impressing on
Rachel that all was the result of her summons to the rescue. Ermine
wished Rachel had found out who was the bishop’s chaplain who rejected
him, but allowed that it would have been an awkward question to ask, and
also she wondered if he were a university man; but Mr. Touchett had been
at a Hall, and never knew anybody, besides being so firmly convinced
that Mr. Mauleverer was a pestiferous heretic, that no one, except Lady
Temple, could have obtained a patient answer from him on that head—and
even with her he went the length of a regret that she had given the
sanction of her name to an undertaking by a person of whose history and
principles nothing satisfactory was known. “Oh!” said Fanny, with her
sweet look of asking pardon, “I am so sorry you think so; Rachel wished
it so much, and it seems such a nice thing for the poor children.”
“Indeed,” said Mr. Touchett, well nigh disarmed by the look, “I am quite
sensible of the kindness of all you do, I only ventured to wish there
had been a little more delay, that we were more certain about this
person.”
“When Colonel Keith comes back he will find out all about him, I
am sure,” said Fanny, and Mr. Touchett, to whom seemed to have been
transferred Rachel’s dislike to the constant quoting of Colonel Keith,
said no more.
The immediate neighbourhood did not very readily respond to the appeal
to it in behalf of the lace-makers. People who did not look into the
circumstances of their neighbours thought lace furnished a good trade,
and by no means wished to enhance its price; people who did care for the
poor had charities of their own, nor was Rachel Curtis popular enough
to obtain support for her own sake; a few five-pound notes, and a scanty
supply of guineas and half-guineas from people who were ready at any
cost to buy off her vehement eyes and voice was all she could obtain,
and with a subscription of twenty pounds each from her mother, Lady
Temple, and Grace, and all that she could scrape together of her own,
hardly seemed sufficient to meet the first expenses, and how would the
future be provided for? She calculated how much she could spare out of
her yearly income, and actually, to the great horror of her mother and
the coachman, sold her horse.
Bessie Keith was the purchaser. It was an expense that she could quite
afford, for she and her brother had been left very well off by their
father—a prudent man, who, having been a widower during his Indian
service, had been able to live inexpensively, besides having had a large
amount of prize money. She had always had her own horse at Littleworthy,
and now when Rachel was one day lamenting to her the difficulty of
raising money for the Industrial Asylum, and declaring that she would
part with her horse if she was sure of its falling into good hands,
Bessie volunteered to buy it, it was exactly what would suit her, and
she should delight in it as a reminder of dear Avonmouth. It was a pang,
Rachel loved the pretty spirited creature, and thought of her rides with
the Colonel; but how weigh the pleasure of riding against the welfare
of one of those hard-worked, half-stifled little girls, and besides, it
might be best to have done with Colonel Keith now that her mission had
come to find her. So the coachman set a purposely unreasonable value
upon poor Meg, and Rachel reduced the sum to what had been given for it
three years before; but Bessie begged her brother to look at the animal
and give his opinion.
“Is that what you are after?” he exclaimed.
“Indeed, Alick, I thought it was the greatest kindness I could do her;
she is so very eager about this plan, and so anxious to find poor Meg a
good home.”
“Purely to oblige her?”
“Of course, Alick, it was much more convenient to her than if she had
had to send about to horse-dealers or to advertise. I doubt if she could
have done it at all; and it is for her asylum, you know.”
“Then give the coachman’s sixty guineas at once.”
“Ah, Alick, that’s your infatuation!” and she put on a droll gesture of
pity. “But excuse me, where would be the fine edge of delicacy in giving
a manifestly fancy price? Come and look at her.”
“I never meddle with horse-dealing.”
“Stuff, as if you weren’t the best-mounted man in the regiment. I shall
send a note to Captain Sykes if you won’t; he knows how to drive a
bargain.”
“And give a fancy price the other way. Well, Bessie, on one condition
I’ll go, and that is, that Meg goes to Bishopsworthy the day she is
yours. I won’t have her eating Lady Temple’s corn, and giving her
servants trouble.”
“As if I should think of such a thing.”
Captain Keith’s estimate of the value of the steed precisely agreed with
Rachel’s demand of the original price. Bessie laughed, and said there
was collusion.
“Now seriously, Alick, do you think her worth so much? Isn’t it a pity,
when you know what a humbug poor Rachel is going to give it to?” and she
looked half comical, half saucy.
“If she were going to throw it into the sea, I don’t see what difference
that would make.”
“Ah! you are far too much interested. Nothing belonging to her can bear
a vulgar price.”
“Nothing belonging to me is to gain profit by her self-denial,” said
Alick, gravely. “You cannot do less than give her what she gave for it,
if you enter on the transaction at all.”
“You mean that it would look shabby. You see we womankind never quite
know the code of the world on such matters,” she said, candidly.
“There is something that makes codes unnecessary, Bessie,” he said.
“Ah! I can make allowances. It is a cruel stroke. I don’t wonder you
can’t bear to see any one else on her palfrey; above all as a sacrifice
to the landscape painter.”
“Then spare my feelings, and send the mare to Bishopsworthy,” said
Alick, as usual too careless of the imputation to take the trouble to
rebut it or to be disconcerted.
Bessie was much tickled at his acceptance, and laughed heartily.
“To be sure,” she said, “it is past concealment now. You must have been
very far gone, indeed, to have been taken in to suppose me to be making
capital of her ‘charitable purposes.’”
“Your acting is too like life,” he said, not yet induced to laugh, and
she rattled on with her droll, sham sentimental air. “Is it the long
words, Alick, or is it ‘the great eyes, my dear;’ or is it—oh, yes, I
know what is the great attraction—that the Homestead doesn’t possess a
single spot where one could play at croquet!”
“Quite irresistible!” replied Alick, and Bessie retreated from the
colloquy still not laughing at but with him; that is, if the odd,
quaint, inward mirth which only visibly lengthened his sleepy eyes,
could be called a laugh.
Next time Captain Keith rode to Avonmouth he met the riding party on the
road, Bessie upon Rachel’s mare, and it appeared that Lady Temple had
considered it so dreadful that Meg should not share her hospitality,
that it had been quite impossible to send her away. “So, Alick, your
feelings must endure the dreadful spectacle.”
Meanwhile Rachel was hard at work with the subscribers to the “Christian
Knowledge Society.” Beginning with the A’s, and working down a page a
day, she sent every member a statement of the wrongs of the lacemakers,
and the plans of the industrial establishment, at a vast expense of
stamps; but then, as she calculated, one pound thus gained paid for two
hundred and forty fruitless letters.
“And pray,” said Alick, who had ridden on to call at the Homestead, “how
do you reconcile yourself to the temptation to the postmen?”
“They don’t see what my letters are about?”
“They must be dull postmen if they don’t remark on the shower of
envelopes that pass through their hands—ominous money-letters, all with
the same address, and no detection remember. You don’t know who will
answer and who will not.”
“I never thought of that,” said Rachel; “but risks must be run when any
great purpose is in hand.”
“The corruption of one postman versus the rescue of—how many children
make a postman?” asked Captain Keith, with his grave, considering look.
“The postman would be corrupt already,” said Grace, as Rachel thought
the last speech too mocking to be worthy of reply, and went on picking
up her letters.
“There is another objection,” added Captain Keith, as he watched her
busy fingers. “Have you considered how you are frightening people out of
the society? It is enough to make one only subscribe as Michael Miserly
or as Simon Skinflint, or something equally uninviting to applications.”
“I shall ask you to subscribe by both names!” said Rachel, readily. “How
much for Simon Skinflint?”
“Ten pounds. Stop—when Mr. Mauleverer gives him a reference.”
“That’s ungenerous. Will Michael Miserly make up for it?”
“Yes, when the first year’s accounts have been audited.”
“Ah! those who have no faith to make a venture can never effect any
good.”
“You evidently build on a great amount of faith from the public. How do
you induce them to believe—do you write in your own name?”
“No, it makes mamma unhappy. I was going to put R. C., but Grace said
people would think it meant Roman Catholic. Your sister thought I had
better put the initials of Female Union for Lacemaker’s Employment.”
“You don’t mean that Bessie persuaded you to put that?” exclaimed Alick
Keith, more nearly starting up than Rachel had ever seen him.
“Yes. There is no objection, is there?”
“Oh, Rachel, Rachel, how could we have helped thinking of it?” cried
Grace, nearly in a state of suffocation.
Rachel held up her printed appeal, where subscriptions were invited to
the address of F. U. L. E., the Homestead, Avonmouth.
“Miss Curtis, though you are not Scottish, you ought to be well read in
Walter Scott.”
“I have thought it waste of time to read incorrect pictures of
pseudo-chivalry since I have been grown up,” said Rachel. “But that has
nothing to do with it.”
“Ah, Rachel, if we had been more up in our Scotch, we should have known
what F. U. L. E. spells,” sighed Grace.
A light broke in upon Rachel. “I am sure Bessie never could have
recollected it,” was her first exclamation. “But there,” she continued,
too earnest to see or stumble at straws, “never mind. It cannot be
helped, and I dare say not one person in ten will be struck by it.”
“Stay,” said Grace, “let it be Englishwoman’s Employment. See, I can
very easily alter the L into an E.”
Rachel would hardly have consented, but was forced to yield to her
mother’s entreaties. However, the diligent transformation at L’s did
not last long, for three days after a parcel was left at the Homestead
containing five thousand printed copies of the appeal, with the E
rightly inserted. Bessie laughed, and did not disavow the half reluctant
thanks for this compensation for her inadvertence or mischief,
whichever it might be, laughing the more at Rachel’s somewhat ungrateful
confession that she had rather the cost had gone into a subscription for
the F. U. E. E. As Bessie said to herself, it was much better and
more agreeable for all parties that it should so stand, and she would
consider herself in debt to Alick for the amount. Indeed, she fully
expected him to send her in the bill, but in the meantime not one
word was uttered between the brother and sister on the subject. They
understood one another too well to spend useless words.
Contrary to most expectation, there was result enough from Rachel’s
solicitations to serve as justification for the outlay in stamps. The
very number of such missives that fly about the world proves that
there must be a great amount of uninquiring benevolence to render the
speculation anything but desperate, and Rachel met with very tolerable
success. Mr. Mauleverer called about once a week to report progress on
his side, and, in his character of treasurer, to take charge of the sums
that began to accumulate. But Rachel had heard so much on all sides of
the need of caution in dealing with one so entirely a stranger, that
she resolved that no one should blame her for imprudence, and therefore
retained in her own name, in the Avoncester Bank, all the sums that
she received. Mr. Mauleverer declared himself quite contented with
this arrangement, and eagerly anticipated the apologies that Rachel was
ashamed even to make to him.
Enough was collected to justify a beginning on a small scale. A house
was to be taken where Mr. Mauleverer and a matron would receive the
first pupils, teach them wood engraving, and prepare the earlier numbers
of the magazine. When a little more progress had been made, the purchase
of a printing-press might be afforded, and it might be struck off by
the girls themselves, but in the meantime they must be dependent on the
regular printer. On this account Mr. Mauleverer thought it best to open
the establishment, not at Avonmouth, but at St. Herbert’s, where he had
acquaintance that would facilitate the undertaking.
Rachel was much disappointed. To be in and out constantly, daily
teaching and watching the girls, and encouraging them by learning the
employment herself, had been an essential portion of her vision. She
had even in one of her most generous moods proposed to share the delight
with the Williamses, and asked Ermine if she would not, if all things
suited, become the resident matron. However, Mr. Mauleverer said
that there was an individual of humbler rank, the widow of a National
Schoolmaster, so anxious to devote herself to the work, that he had
promised she should share it whenever he was in a condition to set the
asylum on foot; and he assured Rachel that she would find this person
perfectly amenable to all her views, and ready to work under her.
He brought letters in high praise of the late school master, and
recommendations of his widow from the clergyman of the parish where
they had lived; and place and name being both in the “Clergy List,” even
Ermine and Alison began to feel ashamed of their incredulity, whilst as
to Grace, she had surrendered herself completely to the eager delight of
finding a happy home for the little children in whom she was interested.
Grace might laugh a little at Rachel, but in the main her trust in her
sister’s superiority always led her judgment, and in the absence of
Colonel Keith, Fanny was equally willing to let Rachel think for her
when her own children were not concerned.
Rachel did not give up her hopes of fixing the asylum near her till
after a considerable effort to get a house for it at Avonmouth, but this
was far from easy. The Curtises’ unwillingness to part with land for
building purposes enhanced the price of houses, and in autumn and winter
the place was at its fullest, so that she could not even rent a house
but at a ruinous price. It would be the best way to build on Homestead
land, but this would be impracticable until spring, even if means were
forthcoming, as Rachel resolved they should be, and in the meantime
she was obliged to acquiesce in Mr. Mauleverer’s assurance that a small
house in an overbuilt portion of St. Norbert’s would be more eligible
than one in some inland parish. Anything was better than delay. Mr.
Mauleverer was to superintend from his lodgings.
Rachel went with Grace and her mother to St. Norbert’s, and inspected
the house, an ordinary cheap one, built to supply lodgings for the more
economical class of visitors. It was not altogether what Rachel wished,
but must serve till she could build, and perhaps it would be best to
form her experience before her plans. Mr. Mauleverer’s own lodgings
were near at hand, and he could inspect progress. The furniture was
determined upon—neat little iron beds for the dormitories, and all that
could serve for comfort and even pleasure, for both Mr. Mauleverer and
Rachel were strong against making the place bare and workhouse-like,
insulting poverty and dulling the spirit.
Grace suggested communication with the clergyman of the parish; but the
North Hill turned out not to belong to St. Norbert’s proper, being a
part of a great moorland parish, whose focus was twelve miles off. A
district was in course of formation, and a church was to be built; but
in the meantime the new houses were practically almost pastorless, and
the children and their matron must take their chance on the free seats
of one of the churches of St. Norbert’s. The staff of clergy there were
so busy that no one liked to add extra parochial work to their necessary
duties, and there was not sufficient acquaintance with them to judge how
they would view Mr. Mauleverer’s peculiarities. Clerical interference
was just what Rachel said she did not want; it was an escape that she
did not call it meddling.
One bit of patronage at least she could exercise; a married pair of
former Homestead servants had set up a fuel store at St. Norbert’s,
receiving coal from the ships, and retailing it. They were to supply
the F. U. E. E. with wood, coal, and potatoes; and this was a great
ingredient in Mrs. Curtis’s toleration. The mother liked anything that
brought custom to Rossitur and Susan.
The establishment was at present to consist of three children: the funds
were not sufficient for more. One was the child of the matron, and the
other two were Lovedy Kelland and the daughter of a widow in ill health,
whose family were looking very lean and ill cared for. Mrs. Kelland was
very unwilling to give Lovedy up, she had always looked to receiving the
apprentice fee from the Burnaby bargain for her as soon as the child
was fourteen, and she had a strong prejudice against any possible
disturbance to the lace trade; but winter would soon come and her sale
was uncertain; her best profit was so dependent on Homestead agency that
it was impolitic to offend Miss Curtis; and, moreover, Lovedy was so
excited by the idea of learning to make pictures to books that she
forgot all the lace dexterity she had ever learnt, and spoilt more than
she made, so that Mrs. Kelland was reduced to accept the kind proposal
that Lovedy should be Lady Temple’s nominee, and be maintained, by her
at the F. U. E. E. at seven shillings a week.
Fanny, however, asked the clergyman’s consent first, telling him, with
her sweet, earnest smile, how sorry she was for the little girl, and
showing him the high testimonials to Mrs. Rawlins. He owned that they
were all that could be wished, and even said at her request that he
would talk to Mr. Mauleverer. What the talk amounted to they never knew;
but when Fanny said “she hoped he had found nothing unsatisfactory,
the poor man must be so glad to be of use;” Mr. Touchett replied with,
“Indeed, it is an unfortunate situation;” and his opposition might
therefore be considered as suspended.
“Of course,” cried Bessie, “we know by what witchery!” But Alison
Williams, her listener, turned on her such great eyes of wilful want of
comprehension, that she held her peace.
Rachel and Grace united in sending Mary Morris, the other child; they
really could do nothing more, so heavily had their means been drawn upon
for the first expenses; but Rachel trusted to do more for the future,
and resolved that her dress should henceforth cost no more than Alison
Williams’s; indeed, she went through a series of assertions by way of
examining Alison on the expenses of her wardrobe.
The house was taken from Michaelmas, and a few days after, the two
little victims, as Bessie laughingly called them, were taken over to St.
Norbert’s in the Homestead carriage, Lady Temple chaperoning the three
young ladies to see the inauguration, and the height of Rachel’s glory.
They were received by Mr. Mauleverer at the door, and slightly in the
rear saw the matron, Mrs. Rawlins, a handsome pale woman, younger than
they expected, but whose weeds made Fanny warm to her directly; but she
was shy and retiring, and could not be drawn into conversation; and
her little Alice was only three years old, much younger than Rachel had
expected as a pupil, but a very pretty creature with great black eyes.
Tea and cake were provided by way of an inauguration feast, and the
three little girls sat up in an atmosphere of good cheer, strongly
suggestive of school feasts, and were left in the midst, with many
promises of being good, a matter that Lovedy seemed to think would be
very easy in this happy place, with no lace to make.
Mrs. Rawlins, whose husband had been a trained schoolmaster, was to
take the children to church, and attend to their religious instruction;
indeed, Mr. Mauleverer was most anxious on this head, and as Rachel
already knew the scruples that withheld him from ordination were only
upon the absolute binding himself to positive belief in minor technical
points, that would never come in the way of young children.
Altogether, the neat freshness of the room, the urbanity of Mr.
Mauleverer, the shy grief of the matron, all left a most pleasant
impression. Rachel was full of delight and triumph, and Grace and Fanny
quite enthusiastic; the latter even to the being sure that the Colonel
would be delighted, for the Colonel was already beginning to dawn on the
horizon, and not alone. He had written, in the name of his brother, to
secure a cottage of gentility of about the same calibre as Myrtlewood,
newly completed by a speculator on one of the few bits of ground
available for building purposes. A name was yet wanting to it; but the
day after the negotiation was concluded, the landlord paid the delicate
compliment to his first tenant by painting “Gowanbrae” upon the
gate-posts in letters of green. “Go and bray,” read Bessie Keith as she
passed by; “for the sake of the chief of my name, I hope that it is not
an omen of his occupations here.”
The two elder boys were with her; and while Francis, slowly apprehending
her meaning in part, began to bristle up with the assurance that
“Colonel Keith never brayed in his life,” Conrade caught the point with
dangerous relish, and dwelt with colonial disrespect, that alarmed
his mother, on the opinion expressed by some unguarded person in his
hearing, that Lord Keith was little better than an old donkey. “He is
worse than Aunt Rachel,” said Conrade, meditatively, “now she has saved
Don, and keeps away from the croquet.”
Meantime Rachel studied her own feelings. A few weeks ago her heart
would have leapt at the announcement; but now her mission had found her
out, and she did not want to be drawn aside from it. Colonel Keith
might have many perfections, but alike as Scotsman, soldier, and
High-Churchman, he was likely to be critical of the head of the F. U. E.
E., and matters had gone too far now for her to afford to doubt, or
to receive a doubting master. Moreover, it would be despicable to be
diverted from a great purpose by a courtship like any ordinary woman;
nor must marriage settlements come to interfere with her building
and endowment of the asylum, and ultimate devotion of her property
thereunto. No, she would school herself into a system of quiet
discouragement, and reserve herself and her means as the nucleus of the
great future establishment for maintaining female rights of labour.