ELEANOR'S HEALTH--HOLY LIVING--THE PRAYER OF THE SON OF SIRACH.
Matilda went home, and Eleanor and I remained at Bush House.
I fancy that when we no longer had to repress ourselves for poor
Matilda's sake, Eleanor was more sensible of her own aches and pains.
She also became rather irritable, and had more than one squabble with
Madame about this time.
Eleanor had brought several religious books with her--books of prayers
and other devotional works. They were all new to Matilda and me, and we
began to use them, and to imitate Eleanor in various little devout
customs.
On Sunday Eleanor used to read Jeremy Taylor's _Holy Living and Dying_;
but as we never were allowed to be alone, she was obliged to bring it
down-stairs. Unfortunately, the result of this was that Miss Mulberry,
having taken it away to "look it over," pronounced it "not at all proper
reading for young ladies," and it was confiscated. After this Eleanor
reserved her devotional reading for bed-time, when, if she had got
fairly through her lessons for next day, I was wont to read the Bible
and other "good books" to her in a tone modulated so as not to reach
Madame's watchful ear.
Once she caught us.
The books of Wisdom and Ecclesiasticus from the Apocrypha were favourite
reading with Eleanor, who seemed in the grandly poetical praises of
wisdom to find some encouragement under the difficulties through which
we struggled towards a very moderate degree of learning. I warmly
sympathized with her; partly because much of what I read was beautiful
to read, even when I did not quite understand it; and partly because
Eleanor had inspired me also with some of her own fervour against "the
great war of ignorance."
But, as I said, Madame caught us at last.
Eleanor was lying, yet dressed, upon her bed, the window was open, and
I, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was giving forth the prayer of the
Son of Sirach, with (as I flattered myself) no little impressiveness. As
the chapter went on my voice indiscreetly rose:
"When I was yet young, or ever I went astray, I desired wisdom openly in
my prayer.
"I prayed for her before the temple, and will seek her out even to the
end.
"Even from the flower till the grape was ripe hath my heart delighted in
her: my foot went the right way, from my youth up I sought after her.
"I bowed down mine ear a little, and received her, and gat much
learning.
* * * * *
"Draw near unto me, ye unlearned, and dwell in the house of learning.
* * * * *
"Put your neck under the yoke, and let your soul receive instruction:
she is hard at hand to find.
"Behold with your eyes, how that I have had but little labour, and have
gotten unto me much rest.
"Get learning----"
"Eh, mesdemoiselles! This is going to bed, is it? Ah! Give me that book,
then."
I handed over in much confusion the thin S.P.C.K. copy of the
Apocrypha, bound in mottled calf, from which I had been reading; and
ordering us to go to bed at once, Madame took her departure.
Madame could read English well, though she spoke it imperfectly. The
next day she did not speak of the volume, and we supposed her to be
examining it. Then Eleanor became anxious to get it back, and tried both
argument and entreaty, for some time, in vain. At last Madame said:
"What is it, mademoiselle, that you so much wish to read in this volume
of the holy writings?"
"Wisdom and Ecclesiasticus are what I like best," said Eleanor.
"Eh bien!" said Madame, nodding her head like a porcelain Chinaman, and
with a very knowing glance. "I will restore the volume, mademoiselle."
She did restore it accordingly, with the historical narratives cut out,
and many nods and grimaces expressive of her good wishes that we might
be satisfied with it now.
In private, Eleanor stamped with indignation (whether or no her thick
boots had fostered this habit I can't say, but Eleanor was apt to stamp
on occasion). We had our dear chapters again, however, and I promised
Eleanor a new and fine copy of the mutilated favourite as a birthday
present.
Eleanor was very good to me. She helped me with my lessons, and
encouraged me to work. For herself, she laboured harder and harder.
I used to think that she was only anxious to get all the good she could
out of the school, as she did not seem to have many so-called
"advantages" at home, by her own account. But I afterwards found that
she did just the same everywhere, strained her dark eyes over books, and
absorbed information whenever and wherever she had a chance.
"I can't say you're fond of reading," said Emma one day, watching
Eleanor as she sat buried in a book, "for I'm fond of reading myself,
and we're not at all alike. I call you greedy!"
And Eleanor laughed, and quoted a verse from one of our favourite
chapters: "They that eat me shall yet be hungry, and they that drink me
shall yet be thirsty."