AMY GOES FOR A WALK.
"Such is life then--changing ever,
Shadows flit we day by day;
Heedless of the fleeting seasons,
Pass we to our destinies."
THOMAS COX.
All the visitors had now arrived at Brampton Park, and were amusing
themselves as well as the inclement weather would allow of, the snow
still covering the ground, and the cold so intense as to keep all the
ladies within doors, with the exception of Julia Bennet, who went out
every day, accompanied by the three children, as Amy's spare time was
quite taken up with Miss Tremlow, who had continued since her fright
too unwell to leave her room.
Julia Bennet often paid a visit to the school-room in the morning, and
sadly interrupted the studies by her incessant talking. Often did Amy
declare she would not allow her to come in until two o'clock, when the
lessons were generally ended for the afternoon's walk; but still, the
next morning, there she was, her merry face peeping from behind the
half-opened door, with a laughing, "I know I may come in; may I not?"
and Amy never refused. How could she?
One morning, after getting her pupils ready for an earlier walk than
usual, and giving them into Julia's charge--who vainly tried to persuade
her to go with them--she bent her steps, as usual, to Miss Tremlow's
room. On entering, she was surprised to see that lady sitting up in a
large arm chair propped with cushions and looking very comfortable by
the side of the warm fire. On enquiry, she learnt that Julia had been
busy with the invalid all the morning, and had insisted on her getting
out of bed.
"I am so very glad to see you looking so much better, and really hope
you will soon be able to go down stairs; it must be so dull for you
being so much alone," began Amy, as she quietly took a seat near.
"Miss Bennet wished to persuade me to do so to-day; but I really did not
feel equal to it, though I do not think she believed me; she has her own
peculiar notions about most things, and especially about invalids; I
dare say she means it all kindly, but I cannot help thinking her very
odd and eccentric."
"She is a very kind-hearted girl, it is impossible not to help liking
her."
"She is very different from you, my dear, in a sick room, very
different."
And well might she say so. Amy was all gentleness, so quiet in her
movements; there was something soft and amiable about her; you loved
her you scarcely knew or asked yourself why. Julia was all roughness,
bustling about, setting the room to rights--Miss Tremlow's,--whenever
she entered it; talking and laughing the while, and endeavouring to
persuade the unfortunate individual that it was not possible she could
feel otherwise than ill, when she never exerted herself or tried to get
better. Her too you loved, and loving her overlooked her faults; but she
obliged you to love her, she did not gain a place in your heart at once
as Amy did. Very different they were in temper and disposition; Julia
hasty and passionate; Amy forbearing and rarely roused; but at times her
father's proud, fiery spirit flashed forth, and then how beautiful she
looked in her indignation.
"I think I read to the end of the sixth chapter," said Amy, taking up a
book and opening it; "for I foolishly forgot to put in a mark."
Amy read every day to Miss Tremlow, and thus whiled away many a weary
hour that would have passed wearily for the invalid.
"You need not read to-day, my dear, you will tire yourself; so never
mind where we were. I hope myself to be able to read soon."
"I shall not be in the least tired; I like reading. Shall I begin?"
Miss Tremlow fidgeted and moved restlessly among the cushions, and then
said wearily--
"Do you know, my dear, I think it will be too much for me; I feel so
tired with the exertion of getting up."
The book was instantly closed, Miss Tremlow feeling quite relieved when
it was laid down.
"You are not vexed, Miss Neville, I hope. Your reading has been such a
treat to me, when otherwise I should have been so dull and stupid."
"Indeed, no, it has been quite a pleasure to me; but you do look weary
and tired. Shall I pour you out a glass of wine?"
"No, my dear, no; there is not the slightest occasion for it. And now
let us talk of something else; you shall tell me all about the
visitors, so that they may not be quite strangers to me when we meet."
"I have not seen any of them, except Mrs. Bennet and her daughters, and
Mrs. Strickland and hers."
"But you go down of an evening, and surely there are other visitors."
"I always used to spend my evenings with Mrs. Linchmore; but within the
last week I have remained upstairs, thinking I should be sent for if
wanted, and as no enquiries have been made, I conclude my absence is not
noticed; or if noticed I am only doing what is usual in such cases."
"Mrs. Linchmore is very foolish, and ought to have you down; you are too
pretty and young to be allowed to mope upstairs by yourself. You may
smile, but youth does not last for ever; it too soon fades away, and
then you will become a useless, fidgetty old maid, like myself; no one
to love or care for you, and all those who ought to love and take care
of you wishing you dead, that they may quarrel for the little money you
leave behind."
"But I have very few distant relations, and those I have do not love or
care for me."
"More reason why you should have a husband who would do both; but that
will come soon enough, I have no doubt. In the meantime you seem very
young to have the care of these three girls, the youngest a perfect
torment, if I remember aright; so spoilt and humoured."
"I am nearly nineteen," replied Amy.
"Too young to be sent out into this cold world all alone; but your
mother has, of course, advised you for the best."
"Yes, she gave me her advice; and love, and blessing, as well; the
latter was highly prized, but the first I did not follow. She did not
wish me to be a governess, but advised me strongly against it; still I
cannot think I have done wrong," added Amy, answering the enquiring look
Miss Tremlow bent on her. "Because--because--Oh! it would take too
long a time to tell you all I think, and you are weary already."
"Not so," and she took Amy's hand in hers. "I am interested in my kind
young friend, so shall prove a good listener, though perhaps I am too
tired to talk; so tell me your history, and all about yourself and those
you love."
Yet Amy sat silent, so that Miss Tremlow, who watched her, was troubled,
and added hastily, "never mind, my dear, I am sorry I asked you. It was
foolish and thoughtless of me."
"No, indeed, Miss Tremlow; it is I who am foolish; mine is but the
history of an every day life. There is little to tell, but what happens,
or might happen, to anyone; still less to conceal."
And Amy drew her chair closer still, and with faltering voice began the
history of her earlier years. A sad tale it was though she glanced but
slightly at her father's extravagance; but to speak of her mother's
patience, long suffering, and forbearance through it all, she wearied
not, forgetting that as she did so her father's conduct stood out in
all its worst light, so that when she had finished Miss Tremlow
exclaimed hastily--
"He must, nay, was a bold, bad man, not worthy of such a wife! It's a
mercy he is dead, or worse might have happened."
"Do not say that, Miss Tremlow; my mother loved him so dearly."
"That is the very reason why I cannot excuse him; no woman would; but
there now I have pained you again, and quite unintentionally; so please
read to me, and then there will be no chance of my getting into another
scrape, because I must hold my tongue, and I find that no very easy task
now, I can assure you."
Amy silently took up the book she had previously laid down, but had
scarcely read three pages when the door opened, and in walked Julia with
a glass of jelly in her hand.
"I have been looking for you everywhere, Miss Tremlow," she said.
"Why did you not come here? Had you forgotten I was ill?"
"Certainly not, witness this glass of jelly; but your room was the last
place in the world I thought of looking for you in, considering I made
you promise you would rouse yourself, and go below."
"I wish I could rouse myself," sighed Miss Tremlow, "but I am not equal
to it, or to go down stairs amongst so many strangers."
"Not equal to it? All stuff! You never will feel equal to either that,
or anything else, if you remain much longer shut up in this close room;
you will make yourself really ill; and now please to drink this glass of
wine, but first eat the jelly, and see how you feel after that."
"I will drink the wine my dear, but I could not touch the jelly. I do
really think it is the fourth glass you have brought me to-day, and--no,
I could not touch it."
"Well, you must take your choice between this, and some beef tea. Will
you toss up, as the boys do, which it shall be?"
"No, no; I'll have nothing to do with the tossing. I suppose I must
take the jelly," and she sighed as she contemplated it.
"Yes, and eat it too, and hate me into the bargain; when I do it
entirely for your good, because as long as you remain up here, and
complain of weakness, you must be dosed, and treated as an invalid, and
made to take strengthening things; so be thankful you have two such
nurses as Miss Neville and myself; one to talk and recount your pains
and aches to; and the other to insist upon rousing, and making you well,
whether you will or no, by forcing you to take and eat what is good for
you, and scolding you into the bargain when you require it, which is
nearly every day. Now, I am sure you are better after the jelly?"
continued she, taking the empty glass from her hand.
"It is of no use saying I am not," replied Miss Tremlow wearily.
"Not the slightest," said Julia, sitting down by Amy. "Why, you don't
mean to say that Miss Neville has been reading to you?" and she took
the book off Amy's lap, where it had lain forgotten. "After all my
injunctions, and your promises."
Miss Tremlow looked somewhat abashed.
"You really ought to be ashamed of yourself; as for Miss Neville, she
looks fagged to death; for goodness sake go out and take a walk, and try
and get a little colour into your cheeks, or there will be jelly and
beef tea for you to-morrow," and Julia laughed merrily. "And now," she
added, addressing Miss Tremlow, as Amy left the room, "Why did you allow
her to read? Did I not tell you it was bad for her; and that, not being
strong, the air of this close, hot room, is too much for her."
"Do not scold, or go on at such a rate, my dear; I really am not strong
enough to bear it. I did refuse to hear the reading; but in the course
of conversation I made an unfortunate remark, and she looked so pained,
that to get out of the scrape I asked her to read; but she had scarcely
opened the book when you entered."
"Never mind how long she read, you disobeyed orders; so as a punishment,
I shall put you to bed; and then I will read the whole book to you if
you like."
Miss Tremlow was delighted; she really was beginning to feel sadly
tired, and in no humour for Julia's chattering, so submitted without a
murmur; fervently hoping Julia would not persevere in the reading, or
that some one else in the house might be taken ill, and receive the half
of Julia's attentions.
As Amy quitted Miss Tremlow's room, she almost fell over Fanny, who came
bounding down the corridor, never heeding or looking where she went.
Fanny never walked; her steps, like her spirits, were always elastic.
Amy's lectures availed nothing in that respect. Her movements were never
slow--never would be--everything she did was done hastily, and seldom
well done; half a message would be forgotten, her lessons only
imperfectly said, because never thoroughly learnt.
"Of course it is Fanny," said Amy, turning to help up the prostrate
child. "Have you hurt yourself, and why will you always be in such a
hurry?"
"I was right, though, this time, Miss Neville," said the child, rising,
"because Miss Bennet told me you were going out as soon as she came in,
and Mamma wants you; so you see I am only just in time to catch you,
because you are going out, you know."
"You would have plenty of time had you walked, instead of running in
that mad way. I am not yet dressed for walking. Are you hurt, child?"
"Oh, no, Miss Neville, not a bit. I think I have torn my frock, though.
Isn't it tiresome? Only look!"--and she held up one of the flounces,
nearly half off the skirt.
"I do not see how you could expect it to be otherwise. It must be mended
before you go to bed, Fanny."
"Yes, Miss Neville; I suppose it must. Oh, dear! my fingers are always
sewing and mending. I wish Mamma would not have my dresses made with
flounces."
"You would still tear them, Fanny."
"Yes, I suppose I should; well, I have pinned it up as well as I can;
and now shall we go to Mamma; she is in her room, and Mason is so busy
there," said Fanny, forgetting all about her frock. "Do you know we are
going to have such a grand dinner party to-night; mamma is to wear her
pink silk dress, with black lace. I saw it on the bed; and such a lovely
wreath beside it. How I do wish I was big enough to have one just like
it!"
"And tear the flounce like this," replied Amy, laughing, and knocking at
Mrs. Linchmore's door.
"Come in, Miss Neville; I am sorry to trouble you, but I heard from
Fanny you were going out, and I wished to know if you would like to come
down into the drawing-room this evening, after dinner, it is both Mr.
Linchmore's wish and mine that you should do so; moreover, we shall be
glad to see you. The children will come and you could come down with
them, if you like."
"Thank you, but if I am allowed a choice, I would far rather remain
away. I am so unaccustomed to strangers; still if you wish it I--"
"No, you are to do just as you like in the matter, we shall be very glad
to see you if you should alter your mind, and I hope you will. And now
what news of Miss Tremlow? Is she really getting better, or still
thinking of Goody Grey?"
"She sat up to-day for the first time, and is I think decidedly
improving, but her nerves have been sadly shaken. Miss Bennet tried to
persuade her to go downstairs to-day; but I really must say she had not
strength for the exertion."
"I miss Julia sadly this dull weather, and I wish she would think of
others besides Miss Tremlow; she devotes nearly the whole day to her."
"Is not her sister as merry and cheerful?"
"Anne is all very well, but thinks only of pleasing herself, she never
helps entertain; you will scarcely see her in Miss Tremlow's, or anybody
else's sick room. And now if you are going out, I will not detain you
any longer. Perhaps you will kindly look into the conservatory as you
return, and bring me one or two flowers, and you, Fanny, can come with
me," and taking Fanny's hand she left the room, as Amy went to put on
her bonnet.