A "HELPER OF UNHAPPY MEN."
Mrs. Money had one great object in life. At least, if it was not an
object defined and set out before her, it was an instinct: it was to
make people happy. She could not rest without trying to make people
happy. The motherly instinct, which in other women is satisfied by
rushing at babies wherever they are to be seen, and ministering to
them, and fondling them, and talking pigeon-English to them, exuberated
in her so far as to set her trying to do the mother's part for all men
and women who came within her range, even when their years far exceeded
hers. There was one great advantage to herself personally in this: it
kept her content in what had come to be her own sphere. One cannot go
meddling in the affairs of duchesses and countesses, and Ministers of
State, with whatever kindly desire of setting everything to rights and
making them all happy. People of that class give themselves such
haughty airs that they would rather remain unhappy in their own way
than obtain felicity at the hand of some person of inferior station. So
Mrs. Money believed; and perhaps one secret cause of her dislike to the
aristocracy (along with the avowed conviction that the aristocratic
system had somehow misprized and interfered with her husband) was the
feeling that if she were among them, they would not allow her to do
anything for them. She therefore maintained a circle of which she
herself was the queen, and patroness, and Lady Bountiful. She busied
herself about everybody's affairs, and was kind to everybody, without
any feeling of delight in the mere work of patronizing, but out of a
sheer pleasure in trying to make people happy. Naturally she made
mistakes, and the general system of her social circle worked so as to
occasion a continual change, a passing away of old friends and coming
in of new. As young men rose in the world and became independent, as
girls got married and came to consider themselves supreme in their own
sphere, they tended to move away from Mrs. Money's influence. Even the
grateful and the generous could not always avoid this. For beginners in
any path of life she was the specially appointed helper and friend; and
next to these she might be called the patron saint of failures. In her
circle were young poets, painters, lawyers, novelists, preachers,
ambitious men looking out for seats in Parliament, or beginners in
Parliament; also there were the gray old poets whom no one read; the
painters who could not get their pictures exhibited or bought; the men
who were in Parliament ten or twenty years ago, and got out and never
could get in again; and the inventors who could not impress any
government or capitalist with a sense of the value of their
discoveries. No front-rank, successful person of any kind was usually
to be found in Mrs. Money's rooms. Her guests were the youths who were
putting their armor on for the battle, and the worn-out campaigners who
had put it off defeated.
Naturally, when Minola Grey came in Mrs. Money's way, the sympathy and
interest of the kindly lady were quickened to their keenest. This
beautiful, motherless, fatherless, proud, lonely girl--not so old as
her own Theresa, not older than her own Lucy--living by herself, or
almost by herself, in gloomy lodgings in the heart of London--how could
she fail to be an object of Mrs. Money's deep concern? Of course Mrs.
Money must look into all her affairs, and find out whether she was
poor; and in what sort of way she was living; and whether the people
with whom she lodged were kind to her.
Mary Blanchet's pride of heart can hardly be described when an open
carriage, with a pair of splendid grays, stopped at the door of the
house in the no-thoroughfare street, and a footman got down and
knocked; and it finally appeared that Mrs. Money, Miss Money, and Miss
Lucy Money had called to see Miss Grey. Miss Grey, as it happened, was
not at home, although the servant at first supposed that she was; and
thus the three ladies were shown into Minola's sitting-room, and there
almost instantly captured by Miss Blanchet. We say "almost" because
there was an interval long enough for Lucy to dart about the room from
point to point, taking up a book here, a piece of music there, an
engraving, a photograph, or a flower, and pronouncing everything
delightful. The room was old-fashioned, spacious, and solid, very
unlike the tiny apartments of the ordinary West End lodging; and, what
with the flowers and the books, it really looked rather an attractive
place to enthusiastic eyes. Miss Money kept her eyes on the ground for
the most part, and professed to take little notice of the ordinary
adornments of rooms; for Miss Money was a saint, and was furthermore
engaged to a man not far from her father's years, who, having made a
great deal of money at the Parliamentary bar, was now thinking of
entering the Church, and had already set about the building of a temple
of mediæval style, in the progress of which Miss Money naturally was
deeply interested.
Miss Blanchet was in a flutter of excitement as she entered the
sitting-room. As she was crossing its threshold she was considering
whether she ought to present a copy of her poems to each of the three
ladies or only to Mrs. Money; or whether she ought to tender the gift
now or send it on by the post. The solemn eyes and imposing presence of
Mrs. Money were almost alarming, and the trailing dresses and feathers
of all the ladies sent a thrill of admiration and homage into the heart
of the poetess--everything was so evidently put on regardless of
expense. Little Mary had always been so poor and so stinted in the
matter of wardrobe that she could not help admiring these splendidly
dressed women. Mary, however, luckily remembered what was due to the
dignity of poetic genius, and did not allow her homage to show itself
too much in the form of trepidation. She instantly put on her best
company manners, and spoke in the sweetly measured and genteel tone
which she used to employ at Keeton, when she had occasion to
interchange a word with the judges, or the sheriffs, or some eminent
counsel.
"Minola will be home in a few moments--a very few," Miss Blanchet said.
"Indeed, I expect her every minute. I know she would be greatly
disappointed if she did not see you."
"Oh, I am not going without seeing Nola!" said Lucy.
"I am Minola's friend," Mary explained with placid dignity. "I may
introduce myself. My brother, I know, has already the honor of your
acquaintance. I am Miss Blanchet."
"Mr. Herbert Blanchet's sister?" Mrs. Money said in melancholy tone,
but with delighted eyes. "This is indeed an unexpected and a very great
pleasure."
"Why, you don't mean to say you are Herbert Blanchet's sister?" Lucy
exclaimed, seizing both the hands of the poetess. "He's the most
delightful creature, and a true poet. Oh, yes, a man of genius!"
The eyes of Mary moistened with happiness and pride.
"Herbert Blanchet is my brother. He is much younger than I; I need
hardly say that. I used to take care of him years ago, almost as if I
were his mother. We were a long time separated; he has been so much
abroad."
The faithful Mary would not for all the world have suggested that their
long separation was due to any indifference on the part of her brother.
Indeed, at the moment she was not thinking of anything of the kind,
only of his genius, and his beauty, and his noble heart.
"He never told me he had a sister," Mrs. Money said, "or I should have
been delighted to call on you long ago, Miss Blanchet. It is your
brother's fault, not mine. I shall tell him so."
"He did not know that I was coming to London," Mary was quick to
explain. "He thought I was still living in Keeton. I only came to
London with Minola."
"Oh! You lived in Keeton then always, along with Miss Grey!"
"How delightful!" Lucy exclaimed, desisting from her occupation of
opening books and turning over music; "for you can tell us all about
Nola and her love story."
"Her love story?" Mrs. Money repeated, in tones of melancholy inquiry.
"Her love story!" Miss Blanchet murmured tremulously, and wondering who
had betrayed Minola's secret.
"Oh, yes," said Lucy decisively. "I know there's some love
story--something romantic and delightful. Do tell us, Miss Blanchet."
Even the saint-like Theresa now showed a mild and becoming interest.
"It's not exactly a love story," Miss Blanchet said with some
hesitation, not well knowing what she ought to reveal and what to keep
back. "At least it's no love affair on Minola's part. She never was in
love--never. She detests all love-making--at least she thinks so," the
poetess said with a gentle sigh. "But there was a gentleman who was
very much in love with her."
"Oh, she must have had heaps of lovers!" interposed Lucy.
Miss Blanchet then told the story of Mr. Augustus Sheppard, and how he
was rich and handsome--at least rather handsome, she said--and how he
wanted to marry Minola; and her people very much wished that she would
have him, and she would not; and how at last she hastened her flight to
London to get rid of him. All this was full of delightful interest to
Lucy, and still further quickened the kindly sympathy of Mrs. Money.
Then Mary Blanchet went into a long story about the death of Minola's
mother and the second marriage of Minola's father, and then the
father's death and the stepmother's second marriage, and the discomfort
of the home which fate had thus provided for Minola. She expatiated
upon the happiness of the sheltered life Minola had had while her
mother was living, and the change that came upon her afterward, until
the only doubt Mrs. Money had ever entertained about Minola--a doubt as
to the perfect propriety and judgment of her coming to live almost
alone in London--vanished altogether, and she regarded our heroine as a
girl who had been driven from her home instead of having fled from it.
Mrs. Money delicately and cautiously approached the subject of Minola's
means of subsistence. On this point no one could enlighten her better
than Miss Blanchet, who knew to the sixpence the income and expenditure
of her friend. Well, Minola was not badly off for a girl, Mrs. Money
thought. A girl could live nicely and quietly, like a lady, but very
quietly, on that. Besides, some rich man would be sure to fall in love
with her.
"But she ought to have a great deal of money," the poetess eagerly
explained, very proud of her leader's losses. "Her father was a rich
man, quite a rich man, and he had quarrelled with her brother, and she
ought to have all the money, only for that second marriage." Indeed,
Miss Blanchet added the expression of her own profound conviction that
there must have been some queer work--some concealment or
something--about Mr. Grey's property, seeing that so little of it came
to Minola.
"I'll get Mr. Money to look into all that," Mrs. Money said decisively.
"He understands all about these things, and nothing could be hidden
from him."
Miss Blanchet modestly intimated that she had confided her suspicions
to her brother, and begged him to try and find out something.
"Oh, he never could understand anything about it!" Lucy said. "Poets
never know about these things. It's just in papa's line. He'll find
out. They can't baffle him. I know they have been cheating Nola--I know
they have! I know there's a will hidden away somewhere, making her the
rightful heir or whatever it is."
"About this gentleman--this lover. Is he a nice person?" Mrs. Money
began.
"Mr. Augustus Sheppard?" Mary asked, mentioning his name for the first
time in the conversation.
"Augustus Sheppard! Is that his name?" Lucy demanded eagerly.
"Why then, papa knows him! Indeed he does. I do declare papa knows
everything!"
"Why do you think, dear, that he knows this gentleman?"
"Because I heard him asking Nola about Mr. Augustus Sheppard the other
day, mamma, in our drawing-room."
"He couldn't have known this, I think," Miss Blanchet said.
"Oh, no, I suppose not; but he knows him, and he'll tell us all about
him. Why wouldn't Nola have him, Miss Blanchet?"
"He is rather a formal sort of person, and heavy, and not the least in
the world poetic or romantic; and Minola does not like him at all. She
doesn't think his feelings are very deep; but there I am sure she is
wrong," the poetess added emphatically. "She has never had occasion to
make a study of human feelings as others have."
"You think he has deep feelings?" Mrs. Money asked, turning the full
light of her melancholy eyes upon Mary, and with her whole soul already
in the question.
"Oh, yes; I know he has. I know that he will persevere, and will try to
make Minola marry him still. He is a man I should be afraid of if he
were disappointed. I should indeed."
"Mamma, don't you think we had better have Nola to stay with us for a
while?" Lucy asked. "Miss Blanchet could describe him, or get a
photograph, and we could give orders that no such man was ever to be
admitted if he should call and ask to see her. Some one should always
go out with her, or she should only go in the carriage. I dread this
man; I do indeed. Miss Blanchet is quite right, and she knows more than
she says, I dare say. Such terrible things have happened, you know. I
read in a paper the other day of a young man who fell in love with a
girl--in the country it was, I think, or in Spain perhaps, or
somewhere--and she would not marry him; and he hid himself with a long
dagger, and when she was going to church he stabbed her several times."
"I don't think Mr. Augustus Sheppard would be likely to do anything of
that kind," Miss Blanchet said. "He's a very respectable man, and a
steady, grave sort of person."
"You never can tell," Lucy declared. "When those quiet men are in love
and disappointed, they are dreadful! I've read a great many things just
like that in books."
"Well, dear," Mrs. Money said, "we'll ask your papa. If he knows this
gentleman--this person--he can tell us what sort of man he is. It
doesn't seem that he is in London now."
"He may have come to-day," said Lucy.
Miss Theresa looked at her watch.
"Mamma dear, I don't think Miss Grey is coming in just yet, and it's
growing late, and I have to attend the Ladies' Committee of the Saint
Angulphus Association, at four."
"You go, mamma, with Theresa," Lucy exclaimed. "I'll wait; I must see
Nola. I begin to be alarmed. It's very odd her staying out. I think
something must really have happened. That man may have been in town,
waiting somewhere. You go. When I have seen Nola, and am satisfied that
she is safe, I can get home in the omnibus, or the underground, or the
steamboat, or somehow. I'll find my way, you may be sure."
"My dear," her mother said, "you were never in an omnibus in your
life."
"Papa goes in omnibuses, and he says he doesn't care whether other
people do or not."
"But a lady, my dear----"
"Oh, I've seen them in the streets full of women! They don't object to
ladies at all."
"But my dear young lady," Miss Blanchet pleaded, "there is not the
slightest occasion for your staying. Mr. Sheppard isn't at all that
kind of person. Minola is quite safe. She is often out much later than
this, although I confess that I did expect her home much earlier
to-day."
"I'll stay till Nola comes," the positive little Lucy declared, "unless
Miss Blanchet turns me out; and there's an end of that. So, mamma dear,
you and Tessy do as you please, and never mind me."
"When Minola does come----" Mary Blanchet began to say.
"When she does come?" Lucy interrupted in portentous accents. "Say if
she does come, Miss Blanchet."
"When she does come, please don't say anything of Mr. Sheppard. Of
course she would not like to think that we spoke about such a subject."
"Oh, of course, of course!" all the ladies chorused, with looks
expressive of immense caution and discretion; and in true feminine
fashion all honestly assuming that there could be nothing wrong in
talking over anybody's supposed secrets so long as the person concerned
did not know of the talk.
"I see Miss Grey," said the quiet Theresa suddenly. She had been
looking out of the window to see if the carriage was near. As a
professed saint she had naturally less interest in ordinary human
creatures than her mother and sister had.
"Thank heaven!" Lucy exclaimed.
"Dear Lucy!" Theresa interposed in tones of mild remonstrance, as if
she would suggest that not everybody had a right to make reference to
heaven, and that heaven would probably resent any allusion to it by the
unqualified.
"Well, I am thankful that she is coming all the same; but I wish you
wouldn't call her Miss Grey, Tessy. It seems cold and unfriendly. Call
her Nola, please."
Mary Blanchet went to the door and exchanged a brief word or two with
Minola, in order that she might be prepared for her visitors. Minola
came in, looking very handsome, with her color heightened by a quick
walk home and the little excitement of her morning.
"How lovely you are looking, Nola, dear!" Lucy exclaimed, after the
first greetings were over. "You look as if you had been having an
adventure."
"I have had a sort of adventure," Minola answered with a faint blush.
The one thought went through the minds of all her listeners at the same
moment, and it shaped itself into a name--"Mr. Augustus Sheppard." All
were silent and breathless.
"It was not much," Minola hastened to say. "Only I met Mr. Victor Heron
in Regent's Park, and I have been walking with him."
Most of her listeners seemed relieved.
"I wish I had met him," Lucy blurted out. "He is very handsome, and I
should like to have walked with him. Oh, what nonsense I am talking!"
and she grew red, and jumped up and looked out of the window.
Then they all talked about something else, and the visit closed with a
promise that Minola and Mary Blanchet would present themselves at one
of Mrs. Money's little weekly receptions, out of season, which was to
take place the following evening; and after which Mrs. Money hoped to
decoy them into staying for the night. Mary Blanchet went to bed that
night in an ecstasy of happiness, only disturbed now and then by a
torturing doubt as to whether Mrs. Money would be equally willing to
receive her if she had known that she had been the keeper of the
court-house at Keeton; and whether she ought not to forewarn Mrs. Money
of the fact; and whether she ought not, at least, to call Minola's
attention to the question, and submit to her judgment.