THE WHITE HOUSE.
The life of Lucy Trevor, at this period, was divided between two worlds,
very dissimilar in constitution. The odd household over which her
father’s will and pleasure was paramount, though exercised through the
medium of Mrs. Ford, and in which so many out-of-the-way subjects were
continually being discussed, all with some personal reference to the old
man and his experiences and crotchety principles of action, occupied one
part of her time and thoughts: but the rest of her belonged to another
sphere--to the orderly circle of studies and amusements of which the
central figure was Mrs. Stone, and the scene the White House, a large
irregular low building on the edge of the common, which was within sight
of Mr. Trevor’s windows in the Terrace, and had appeared, through all
the mist and fog of those wintery days, with a kind of halo round its
whiteness like that of a rainy and melancholy old moon, tumbled from its
high place to the low levels of a damp and flat country. Mrs. Stone’s
was known far and wide as the best school for a hundred miles round, the
best as far as education was concerned, and also the most exclusive and
aristocratic. Lucy Trevor was the only girl in Farafield who was
received as a day-pupil. Efforts had been made by people of the highest
local standing to procure the admission of other girls of well-known
families in the town, but in vain. And why Mrs. Stone had taken Lucy,
who was nobody, who was only old John Trevor’s daughter, was a mystery
to her best friends. She had offended a great many of the townspeople,
but she had flattered the local aristocracy, the county people, by her
exclusiveness; and she offended both by the sudden relaxation of her
rule on behalf of Lucy. The rector’s daughter would have been a thousand
times more eligible, or even Emmy Rushton, whose mother had knocked at
those jealous doors in vain for years together; and why should she have
taken Lucy Trevor, old John’s daughter, who was nobody, who had not the
faintest pretension to gentility? Lady Langton drove in, as a kind of
lofty deputation and representative of the other parents who had
daughters at Mrs. Stone’s school, to remonstrate with her, and procure
the expulsion of the intruder; but Mrs. Stone was equal to the occasion.
She did not hesitate to say to the countess, “Your ladyship is at
liberty to remove Lady Maud whenever you please. I dispense with the
three months’ notice.”
It was this speech which established Mrs. Stone’s position far more than
her excellence in professional ways. A woman who dared to look a
countess in the face, and make such a suggestion, was too wonderful a
person to be contemplated save with respect and awe. Lady Langton
herself withdrew, abashed and confounded, protesting that to take Maud a
way was the last idea in her mind. And Mrs. Stone’s empire was thus
established. The incident made a great impression on the county
generally; and it nearly threw into a nervous fever the other mistress,
conjointly with Mrs. Stone, of the White House, her sister Miss
Southwood, called, as a matter of course, Southernwood by the girls, who
stood by aghast, and heard her say, “I dispense with the three months’
notice:” and expected nothing less than that the sky should fall, and
the walls crumble in round them. Miss Southwood liked to think afterward
that it was her own deprecating glances, her look of horror and dismay,
and, above all, the cup of exquisite tea which she offered Lady Langton
as she waited for her carriage, which put everything straight; but all
her civilities would never have established that moral ascendency which
her sister’s uncompromising defiance secured.
Miss Southwood was the elder of the two. She was forty-five or
thereabouts, and she was old-fashioned. Whether it was by calculation,
to make a claim of originality for herself, such as it was, or simply
because she thought that style becoming to her, nobody knew; but she
dressed in the fashions which had been current in her youth, and never
changed. She wore her hair in a knot fastened by a high comb behind, and
with little ringlets drooping on either cheek; and amid the long and
sweeping garments of the present era, wore a full plain skirt which did
not touch the ground, and _gigot_ sleeves. In this dress she went about
the house softly and briskly, without the whistling and rustling of
people in long trains. She was a very mild person in comparison with her
high-spirited and despotic sister; but yet was gifted with a gentle
obstinacy, and seldom permitted any argument to beguile her from her own
way. She had, nominally, the same power in the house as Mrs. Stone, and
it was partly her money which was put in peril by her sister’s audacity;
but the elder had always been faithful to the younger, and though she
might grumble, never failed to make common cause with her, even in her
most heroic measures. As for Lucy Trevor, though she shook her head, she
submitted, feeling that to suffer on behalf of an heiress was a pain
from which the worst sting was taken out; for it was not to be supposed
that a girl so rich could allow her school-mistress to come to harm on
her account. Mrs. Stone was far more imposing in appearance. She was
full five years younger, and she was not old-fashioned. She was tall,
with a commanding figure, and her dresses were handsome as herself, made
by an _artiste_ in town, not by the bungling hands of the trade in
Farafield, of rich texture and the most fashionable cut. She was a woman
of speculative and theoretical mind, believing strongly in “influence,”
and very anxious to exercise it when an opportunity occurred. She had
her ideas, as Mr. Trevor had, of what might be made of an heiress; and
it seemed to Mrs. Stone that there was no class in the world upon which
“influence” might tell more, or be more beneficially exercised. Her
ideas on this subject laid her open to various injurious suppositions.
Thus, when she took Lady Maud Langton into her bosom, as it were--moved
by a brilliant hope of influence to be exercised on society itself by
means of a very pretty and popular young woman of fashion--vulgar
by-standers accused Mrs. Stone of tuft-hunting, and of paying special
honor to the girl who was the daughter of an earl out of mere love of a
title, an altogether unworthy representation of her real motive. And her
sudden stand on behalf of Lucy took the world by surprise. They could
not fathom her meaning; that she should have defied the countess, whom
up to this time she had been supposed to worship with a servile
adulation, on account of a little bit of a girl of no particular
importance, was incomprehensible. It was known in Farafield that Lucy
had a fortune, but it was not known how great that fortune was, and
after much groping among the motives possible to Mrs. Stone in the
circumstances, the country-town gossips had come to the conclusion that
she aspired to a marriage with old John Trevor, and an appropriation to
herself of all his wealth. This supplied a sufficient reason even for a
breach with the countess. To be asked to Langdale, which was the finest
thing that could happen to her in connection with Lady Maud, was, though
gratifying, not to be compared with the possibility of marrying a rich
man in her own person, and becoming one of the chief ladies of
Farafield. This was how it was accounted for by that chorus of
spectators who call themselves society, and Miss Southwood herself
entertained, against her will, the same opinion. This suggestion seemed
to make everything clear.
A few days after that on which Mr. Trevor read to Ford the last
paragraph which he had added to his will, Lucy tapped at the door of
Mrs. Stone’s private parlor with her father’s message. The ladies were
seated together in their private sanctuary, resting from their labors.
It was a seclusion never invaded by the pupils except on account of some
important commission from a parent, or to ask advice, or by order of its
sovereigns. Lucy came in with the little old-fashioned courtesy which
Mrs. Stone insisted upon, and made her request.
“If you would come to tea to-morrow night. Papa is very sorry, but he
bids me say he thinks you know that he can not come to you.”
“How is Mr. Trevor, Lucy?”
Miss Southwood, who was looking at her sister anxiously, thought she
asked this question by way of gaining time. Could he have sent for her
in order to propose to her, the anxious sister thought. What a very
curious way of proceeding! But a rich old man, with one foot in the
grave, could not be expected to act like other men.
“He is--just as he always is; very busy, always writing; but he can not
go out, and if you would be so kind--”
“Oh, yes, I will be so kind,” said Mrs. Stone, with a smile; “it is not
the first time, Lucy. Is he going to complain of you, or to tell me of
something he wants for you?”
“I think,” said Lucy, “it is about the will.”
“Dear me!” Miss Southwood cried. “What can you have to do, Maria, with
Mr. Trevor’s will?”
Mrs. Stone smiled again.
“He goes on with it, then, as much as ever?” she said.
“Oh, yes, almost more than ever; it gives him a great deal of
occupation,” said Lucy, with a grave face. There were some things that
she had it in her heart to say on this subject; she looked at the
school-mistress anxiously, not knowing if she might trust her, and then
was silent, fearing to open her mind to any one on the subject of Jock.
“Poor child! he is putting a great burden upon you at your age; the
management of a fortune is too much for a girl; but, Lucy, you will
always know where to find advice and help so far as I can give it. You
must never hesitate to come to me, whatever happens,” Mrs. Stone said.
“Thank you,” said Lucy, in her tranquil way. She had read something in
the school-mistress’s face, she could not have told what, which sealed
her lips in respect to Jock.
“Dear me!” cried Miss Southwood again, “you are both very mysterious; I
should think nothing was easier than to manage a fortune. It is when
one has no fortune that life is difficult to manage,” she said, with a
sigh.
“The wonder is,” said Mrs. Stone, calmly ignoring her sister’s
interruption, “that your father does not carry out some of his own
views, Lucy, instead of leaving everything to you. It would be in your
favor if he would take a larger house, and get together an establishment
more befitting your prospects; I think I shall suggest this to him. He
has always been very civil in listening to my suggestions. A proper
establishment, all set in order in his life-time, would be a great
matter for you.”
“But, Maria, Maria!” cried Miss Southwood, “think, for Heaven’s sake,
what you are doing; think what people will say. That _you_ should
suggest such a thing would never do.”
Mrs. Stone turned round and looked at her with scathing indifference.
“What do people say?” she asked, and went on without waiting for an
answer. “You ought to be living as becomes your future position,” she
said; “the associations you will form at present, and the habits you are
acquiring, can not be good for you. Thank Heaven you are here, my dear
child, in a place which, however homely, is intended as a place of
training for girls who have to occupy high positions.”
“I don’t think it will matter for me,” said Lucy; “I shall never be a
great lady, I shall only be rich. No one will expect so very much from
me.”
“They will expect a great deal, and I hope my pupil will do me credit,”
said Mrs. Stone; and she rose up and kissed Lucy with a little
enthusiasm. “I agree with your father, I think there is a great deal in
you, Lucy; but I don’t agree with him as to the best means of bringing
it out. He thinks that you should be plunged into life all of a sudden,
and a great call made upon you; but I believe in education; we shall
soon see who is right.”
“Oh, I hope not,” cried Lucy, “I hope not; for before you can know
anything about it papa will have to be--”
“Not if he takes my way, Lucy; he ought to take Holmwood, that pretty
house near Sir Thomas Randolph’s, and give you a beginning; and I think
he ought to do some of the things in his will which he is talking of
leaving upon you; I will speak to him to-morrow night. Yes; you can say
I will come; but do not think too much of these serious matters; go and
amuse yourself with your companions, my dear.”
“Maria,” said Miss Southwood, when the door closed, “you think yourself
a great deal wiser than I am, but you must hear what I have to say. If
you go and advise that old man to take Holmwood and set up an
establishment, there will be but one thing that anybody can think. If
you care anything for the opinion of the world, or for my opinion, for
Heaven’s sake don’t do it, don’t do it! a woman in your position has
need to be so careful. Of course, it stands to reason _that_ is what
everybody will think.”
“_What_ is what everybody--? Your style in conversation is very
careless,” said Mrs. Stone, with great indifference. But her counselor
would not be put down.
“I will tell you exactly what will be thought,” she said, solemnly.
“What is the common talk already? that you mean to marry that old man.
Why did you take up the girl, risking your whole connection--you that
have always been so exclusive--a girl of no family at all! You must have
had a motive--no one ever acts without a motive; and perhaps if he is
very rich, and you could be sure of carrying it out-- But how do we know
that he is really very rich? and most likely you will not be able to
carry it out; and at your age to risk your reputation--oh, I don’t mean
in any _wrong_ way--but to risk your character for sense and good taste,
and all that! Consider for one moment, consider, Maria, what the
‘parents’ would say, what the parents would have a right to say!”
“If you think that I am to be kept in order by a threat of what
‘parents’ will think!” said Mrs. Stone. “Do you suppose I will ever give
in to parents? Why, it would be our destruction. But make your mind
easy, I don’t mean to marry old Trevor, and he does not mean to ask me.
Listen! you don’t know what you are talking about. That girl whom you
think nothing of, that girl you are always taunting me about--and she is
a very nice girl, as simple as a daisy and as true-- Listen, Ellen! she
will be the greatest heiress in England one of these days.”
Miss Southwood stood and listened with all her soul, her eyes and her
mouth opening wider and wider, her imagination set suddenly on fire, for
she had an imagination, and that of a most practical kind. The greatness
of Lucy’s fortune had never been so plainly set before her. She was so
much taken by surprise that she spoke with a gasp, as if all her breath
and energy were thrown into the question.
“And what do you mean to do?”
“I mean to manage her, if I can, for her own good, and for the good of
her fellow-creatures,” cried Mrs. Stone, excited too. “Power, that is
what I have always wanted. I know I can use it well, and Lucy is a good
girl, good to the bottom of her heart. She will want to do good with her
money; and money, money is power.”
Miss Southwood listened, but she did not share her sister’s enthusiasm.
Her countenance fell into shades of disapproval and impatience. She
shook her head.
“You were always so high-flown,” she said. “I never saw anything come of
these heiresses. Manage her! you ought to know by this time girls are
not such easy things to manage. But there is a much better thing you can
do--marry her! and that will be good for her and us.”
Mrs. Stone looked at her sister with a smile which was somewhat
supercilious.
“That is, of course, your first idea; and how, if I may ask, would such
an expedient be good for us? if I thought of good for us--which is a
thing that never entered my thoughts--”
“Because you have no family affection, Maria. I have always said it of
you. You think of the girl more than of your own relations. How is it
possible,” asked Miss Southwood, severely, “that you could have any hand
in the disposal of an heiress and not think of Frank?”