THE LADY'S MAID.
Miss HALL and Freda were sitting alone in the morning-room that has before been alluded to. The former was much more nervous than Freda had ever seen her. First she took up her work, then her book, then she began to copy some music. Freda had great pleasure in watching her, and in remarking that the calm Serena could be excited by the expected appearance of a lover of twenty years ago; also in observing that she had a most becoming colour on her cheeks, and looked quite young; also that she was dressed even with more care than usual, and her hair was smooth as brush could make it. Freda longed to laugh at her, but she forbore; she felt that there was something very touching in this meeting between two people who had parted under such uncomfortable circumstances so many years ago.
When the door bell rang Freda rose to leave the room.
'If you please, Freda, remain where you are, I would very much rather.'
Freda resumed her seat, and shortly after Mr Jones was announced.
'Quite an old man; twice as old as Nita,' was Freda's first thought as she looked at him.
Miss Hall rose and advanced to meet Mr Jones. They shook hands, Freda thought, very much like other people, and then Miss Hall introduced her, and Mr Jones bowed.
'I promised your sister to come and see you, Miss Hall, when I came down into Wales,' he said after he was duly seated.
'I am very much obliged to you, it was very kind,' was the reply.
Freda saw that they were both as nervous and shy as a couple of children, and came to the rescue by apologising for her father's unavoidable absence, he having gone to a neighbouring tenant's, and by saying that he would be at home at luncheon.
By degrees they all three got into conversation, and Mr Jones gave Miss Hall an account of her sister and her family. One little girl was very like Miss Hall, and she was the general favourite.'
'I am sure she must be very pretty,' suggested Freda.
'Very,' said Mr Jones, with a smile at Freda, of greater archness than she gave him credit for.
'Don't you think Miss Hall very little altered?' she asked again.
'I think I should have known her anywhere, though I passed her in the twilight, uncertain who she was.'
A long conversation followed upon various general topics, until the luncheon bell rang. As no Mr Gwynne appeared, Freda was obliged to make another excuse for him; but Mr Jones seemed perfectly satisfied without him, if not relieved by his non-appearance.
Freda proposed a walk as soon as luncheon was over, and she and Miss Hall took their guest to see the school, which Freda was careful to say was under Miss Hall's superintendence. Then they pioneered him to various points of view, which he seemed to look upon with the eye of a real lover of the beauties of nature; and finally they rested on a rustic seat at the top of a wooded hill, whence they looked down on the magnificent valley beneath, with its green meadows, winding river, and boundary of distant mountains.
Alter Freda had remained here a few minutes, she suddenly said,—
'Would you mind my just running down to Mrs Prothero's to settle with her about Gladys? I am sure we shall none of us be happy until that matter is arranged. If you will go down through the wood, Nita, I will join you at the waterfall, or somewhere else, in less than a quarter of an hour. Will you excuse me, Mr Jones?'
'Certainly,' was the reply.
'But had we not better all go?' asked Miss Hall, casting an entreating glance upon Freda, who, however, would not see it.
'I think not. Mrs Prothero is so nervous that we should frighten her to death. It will take me five minutes to run down the hill, five minutes to say my say, and five to get to the waterfall. But you need not hurry away, as I can wait for you; or, if you are not there, I will find you. Come, Frisk, come with me.'
Frisk was a fine, little Scotch terrier, his mistress's especial favourite, and he bounded after her with great satisfaction. The pair were soon half-way down the hill, near the bottom of which Glanyravon Farm lay.
'I think I managed that capitally,' said Freda to Frisk? 'didn't I, Frisk? Now, if he doesn't take advantage of the opportunity, he is very foolish. Don't you think so, Frisk?'
Frisk jumped, and barked, and twirled about in a very affirmative way.
'I should like to make up a match, it would be such fun. And I think he is a very worthy, gentlemanly sort of man, though I shouldn't like him for myself, and he is not quite the sort of person that I could have supposed would have made such an impression on Serena. But she would be such a capital clergyman's wife, and he would be so fond of her! But what should I do without her? Get married myself? The only man that I ever saw that I could marry won't marry; and then he doesn't care for me. Heigho! this is an odd world. All of us at cross-purposes. But I don't mean to break my heart,—do I, Frisk?'
The 'do I, Frisk?' brought Freda and her dog to the gate that led into the road, and the road soon led them to the farm, where Frisk began at once to run after all the poultry, to the no small annoyance of Shanno. But Freda succeeded in catching him, and carrying him off with her into the parlour, whither she went, and whither Mrs Prothero followed her.
'I have just come to ask what you have settled about Gladys,' said Miss Gwynne. 'I cannot stay long, and am anxious to know.'
'My husband thinks it better that she should go to you, as you kindly wish to take her,' replied Mrs Prothero, with tears in her eyes. 'He says that he has no ill-will to the poor girl; on the contrary, he is very fond of her; but he don't think her a good match for our eldest son, Owen, who might marry very well. For my own part, I think he would never meet with such another as Gladys; but that is in the hands of Providence, and if it is to be it will be. He says that he is sure Owen will never come home as long as she is with us, for fear of sending her away; but that when he knows that she is so well off with you, he will perhaps come back again. And, indeed, we want him sadly, Miss Gwynne. It is a great trial to us, to have three children, and neither of them at home to help us. My husband is much altered since Netta married, though he don't show it; and Netta won't write, or do anything to prove she's sorry, and though he don't say so, I think this makes him more angry.'
'Then you really wish Gladys to come to me?'
'I do indeed, Miss Gwynne. I am quite sure it will be for her good; and you cannot help liking her. But she will not make any choice between the two situations you offer, but says you must do with her whatever you think best.'
'Is she very unhappy at the idea of coming to us?'
'Not at all. She is very sad to leave us, but she says she would rather do so, and would rather serve you than any other lady in the world.'
'Well, perhaps it may be best for all parties. I think she is too young and too pretty to live alone at the school-house, and besides, I don't particularly want to change mistresses: so I mean to have her as my maid, and then I can take care of her myself. You know I have not had a regular maid since that disagreeable affair of Evans; one of the housemaids has waited on me, and I don't like maids, they are so in one's way. But I shall like Gladys. And she can help Miss Hall in the school, and go and see you every evening if she likes, when we are at dinner. In short, I am sure it is a capital plan for us all, and will make matters easy for you.'
'You are so very kind, Miss Gwynne, I do not know what we should have done without you. Gladys would have begged her way back to Ireland, and died there.'
'I mustn't stay any longer; I have outstayed my five minutes over and over again. You can send Gladys when you like. I have heaps of dresses, and clothes, of all kinds for her, so don't you think of giving her anything new. I will give her the same wages that I gave Evans, so she will feel quite independent; and I will put her under the particular charge of the housekeeper, until she gets into the ways of the house. Now I must go; what will Miss Hall say?'
Well might Freda ask, 'What will Miss Hall say?' She walked as quickly as possible to the waterfall, she was not there; up the hill again, not there; home through the wood, not there; into the house, not there. She waited a little while with her hat on, but as no Mr Jones or Miss Hall arrived, she took off her walking things, and went about her usual avocations, saying to herself, with a smile on her lips the while,—
'I never thought I was a manoeuvrer before. It is evident they don't want me, or they would have waited for me, and I have no doubt they are much happier without me. I must go and look, after my father.'
Freda found Mr Gwynne in his library.
'Where is your guest, Freda? What is he like? Is he a bore?' were his queries.
'He is walking with Miss Hall, and my impression is they are very good company. He is very quiet, very grave, has no wonderful travellers' stories, and none of the ologies, and can play chess, for I asked him. I don't think him a bore, and I am sure Miss Hall doesn't.'
'Very well, then I will go into the drawing-room against he comes in.'
'Thanks; and I will whisper a little secret into your ear; he is an old lover of Serena's, and I cannot help hoping he is come to propose for her.'
Mr Gwynne was alive and interested in a moment. It is curious how on the alert people are when they hear of a love affair.
'I will go and dress at once; he must be nice if Miss Hall likes him, for she is certainly the least intrusive, and all that sort of thing. Is he like Rowland Prothero?'
Freda coloured at this sudden question.
'No, not at all; besides, he is a middle-aged man.'
'To be sure; I suppose so. Miss Hall must be—I don't know—nearly forty I suppose. I wish Rowland Prothero lived at the farm; he was so obliging and pleasant; even Lady Mary Nugent admires him.'
'She is no great criterion of what is agreeable; I shouldn't think it any compliment to be liked by her. There is the dressing bell. Now, papa, do be ready for dinner, if you please.'
Freda went to her room in a sudden fit of ill-temper. The mention of Lady Mary always put her out of humour. In a few moments there was a tap at the door, and Miss Hall made her appearance.
'I might have waited a long time at the waterfall, Serena,' she began maliciously.
For answer, Miss Hall went to her and kissed her, and when Freda looked up, she saw that there was an unusually bright colour in her cheeks, and something very like tears in her eyes.
Freda threw her arms round her friend, exclaiming,—
'I know, Nita dear! It is all signed, sealed, and settled n'est-ce pas?'
And so it proved; during that long walk the old love had become new, and two people as deserving of happiness as most of the poor sinful mortals who are for ever seeking her, were made perfectly happy for that day at least.
Freda's reflections, whilst she sat alone, listlessly brushing her hair and dressing herself, were as follows:—
'How happy she seems; she looks twenty years younger; and he, an elderly, iron-grey clergyman; it would be ridiculous, only it is all so true and good. I suppose, after all, there is something grand, as the poet says, in constancy, and love, and the like; and I ought to pity Rowland Prothero, if he really cares for me. And yet I don't; on the contrary, I could be over head and ears in love with another man to-morrow if he would only ask me; and he is gone away without telling me that he cares for me, if he does, as I cannot help hoping. But nothing shall induce me to give my heart to any one, unless I am asked for it, of that I am resolved; no, not if I were to die in the struggle to keep it.'
With this prudent and womanly resolution, Freda got up from her seat, hastily put on her dress, and went to Miss Hall, to insist on dressing her on that particular day.
'You must put on the pink and white muslin that you look so well in. I insist on it, and will have my way to-night,' she said, and had her way accordingly, and the satisfaction of hearing her father remark afterwards, that he had 'not seen Miss Hall look so well for years. She really was a very pretty ladylike person, and Mr Jones ought to think himself very fortunate, and all that sort of thing.'
To judge from Mr Jones' manner and countenance, he did think himself very happy and fortunate; and his happiness and good fortune had the effect of making him so very agreeable, that Mr Gwynne was quite pleased with him, and strongly urged his remaining some days at Glanyravon. But this could not be, as he was engaged to be present at a meeting of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel the next day but one. To Freda's indignation, her father engaged him in a game of chess, which lasted the greater part of the evening; but as he seemed quite patient under the infliction, and Miss Hall glad that he should be agreeable to her kind friend, Mr Gwynne, Freda was obliged to give up her plan of leaving them alone for the remainder of the evening, and to be content with resolving that they should at least have the following morning to themselves. This she effected, and was rewarded by a lusty squeeze of the hand from the gentleman, when he took his leave, which she afterwards declared to Miss Hall, would have made an Australian native scream. Mr Gwynne sent Mr Jones to meet the train in his carriage, and invited him to return as soon as he possibly could.
It may, perhaps, be as well to anticipate some of the events of this story, and to say that in the course of three or four months, Mr Jones and Miss Hall were married.
Soon after his return to London, Mr Jones was appointed brother curate to Rowland Prothero, recommended by his friend, the rector. He undertook this as temporary duty, because he was in expectation either of obtaining a living or of returning to Australia; Miss Hall was quite ready for either kind of work, feeling that, whether as the wife of a clergyman at home or abroad, she would be most thankful to be permitted to devote herself to her woman's part of missionary labour. Mr Jones had a small income as secretary to one of the London and Colonial religious societies, and was also engaged in work for the S.P.G., which, together with his curacy, and the small savings of twenty years abroad, enabled him to take and furnish a home for his wife, and gave them the prospect of comfort, if not of ease and riches. Their desires were very moderate, and their hopes fixed on objects beyond the general scope of vision; so that they were content to 'live by the day,' and trust for the rest. The world called them romantic and foolish for people of their ages; they 'knew in whom they believed,' and, 'having food and raiment, were therewith content.'
Gladys had been installed in her offices of parcel lady's-maid, parcel school-mistress at the Park, nearly three months, when the wedding took place. She had largely contributed towards making Miss Hall's simple wardrobe and wedding gear, and was rewarded by being allowed to marshal the school children on the happy-day, as they lined the drive at the Park gates, on the going forth and return of the bridal party. She was, moreover, the one selected by the children to present Miss Hall with a handsome Bible in Welsh and English, in token of their gratitude and love for her. Mr Jones had been too much engaged in London to allow of his visiting Wales until two or three days before his marriage, during which time he had occasionally met, and spoken kindly to Gladys, and given her a book on Missionary subjects, which he had brought purposely for her, expecting to find her at the farm. He had also carried pleasant news of Rowland to Mrs Prothero, and frequently spoken of him to Mr Gwynne and Freda—of his earnestness in his profession, and of the love and esteem in which he was held by his rector and his flock.
Freda felt very lonely when her dear Serena was gone. She had no one amongst her immediate neighbours for whom she cared much. The general round of country dinner-parties she had always found very dull, and the annual hunt week and assize balls she had never liked; so she found herself again thrown quite upon her own resources. As long as Colonel Vaughan had been in the country, she had taken an interest in everything; when he left, her ordinary pursuits—her riding, painting, music, garden—in all of which he had aided her, suddenly lost their charm. Her friend's marriage came about just when she wanted an object of interest, and when that was over she was thrown back upon herself.
By degrees, however, a healthier tone returned to her mind, and she forgot the fascinating Colonel Vaughan, and recovered her interest in her house, school, dogs, birds, garden, and the thousand and one small objects that serve to make time pass cheerfully and happily in a country home. Above all, she became more and more interested in Gladys, and anxious to shelter her from the many dangers and temptations which she saw her peculiar beauty and position subjected her to. She soon found out that all the men-servants paid their devotions to her shrine, and that even the ancient and portly butler was not indifferent to her charms; but the simplicity and modesty of Gladys kept them all at a respectful distance, and the housekeeper told Miss Gwynne, that 'Reelly, she was quite a pattern in the servants' 'all, and it was a treat to see a young 'oman who knew how to keep the men off—not but the girls were as jealous of her as could be; but that wasn't to be wondered at, for none of 'em was made anything of when Gladys was near.' Even Mr Gwynne roused himself to make inquiries concerning Freda's pretty maid, which was quite the crowning feather in Gladys' cap.