Chapter Five.
Meantime in the schoolroom upstairs another blow had fallen, and Rowena was quivering beneath the shock of discovering that in Miss Bruce’s absence it was she and not Etheldreda who was expected to carry on Maud’s education.
“I am sure you will be a conscientious teacher, dear; and I hope that the regular occupation, and the consciousness that you are being of real use will make life brighter for you. Maud will promise to be an industrious pupil, won’t you, darling?”
Maud eyed Rowena’s tragic countenance, and felt it wise to refrain from rash protestations. She was longing to rush after Dreda to declaim against this last injustice, and as her mother continued to address herself pointedly to Rowena, taking no more notice of her own important presence, she slipped softly from the room.
The two who were left, felt, the one a throb of relief, the other a chill of acute discomfort, at finding themselves alone. The tie between this mother and her eldest daughter was a very tender one, and in the shock of the recent losses Mrs Saxon had unconsciously built much on Rowena’s sympathy and love. Rowena would help. Rowena would sympathise; Rowena—herself a woman—would understand some things which even the good husband could not grasp. In the happy, easy days of prosperity, Rowena could always be relied on to be loving, dutiful, and considerate—it was a shock to discover that these good qualities had not enough foundation to withstand the test of adversity. Mrs Saxon was not angry; only distressed and troubled afresh, and overwhelmingly anxious to find the right way to her daughter’s heart.
“Mother!” cried Rowena sharply. “How did father lose his money? It seems so strange that it should disappear all of a sudden like this. We have always had plenty until now. Has he been speculating, or doing something rash?”
The momentary pause before Mrs Saxon replied and the dignified lifting of her gentle head were more eloquent than a spoken reproof.
“No, Rowena; there is no blame attaching to your father. There has been a great failure in America, which has affected many of his investments. We cannot reproach ourselves for any want of care, and that being so, we must look upon this change of circumstances as coming to us from God’s hands, and try to learn the lessons which it is intended to teach. To each of us, perhaps, our own task appears especially hard. You, darling, have looked forward to a time of pleasure and gaiety, and it is difficult to give it up cheerfully, and face living quietly in the country and helping in the house. I understand; I’ve been a girl myself, and I remember how I felt; but, darling, I am a woman now—getting quite an old woman—and I have learnt my lessons. There is more real joy and contentment to be gained by simply doing one’s duty than in all the balls and receptions of a London season, Rowena!”
Rowena sat dumb, her eyes fixed on the tablecloth, her long dark lashes resting on her cheeks. Those were the sentiments you read in books, and heard in sermons, but it was always grown-up people who voiced them; grown-up people who, like mother, had had a good time in their own youth, and were afterwards unreasonable enough to expect their children to be resigned and middle-aged when they had just emerged from the schoolroom. Rowena thought of the prospect which had stretched dazzlingly before her but a week before; of the gaiety and variety of amusement which had made so fair a dream, and contrasted it with the prospect of an uneventful domestic life at the Manor—teaching Maud! She pressed her lips together, and sat silent, feeling her mother’s eyes on her face; dreading to meet their tenderly reproaching gaze.
“That sounds strange to you, dear, and perhaps a little hard, but all the same it is true. I do not minimise your disappointment, but for the time being it is inevitable, and nothing remains but to face the situation bravely. As the eldest daughter of the house more depends upon you than upon any of the rest, and your opportunities will be endless. You can be a great comfort to us, darling, or a great additional care. It all depends upon the spirit in which you start the new life—upon whether you look in or out—put yourself first, or think of others.”
Mrs Saxon paused again, and within Rowena’s still form two contending forces fought for victory. While one sullen spirit held her dumb, the real self seemed to stand apart, reviewing her own conduct, and uttering words of exhortation and appeal: “How hateful of you never to say a word in reply! Poor mother! her voice trembled... It’s hard on her, too. If you could just put your arms round her neck and kiss her, and promise to be good, it would comfort her ever so much. And you’d be happier yourself. It only makes you more miserable to sulk, and be unkind. Look up and smile, and promise to be nice.” So urged the inner voice, but alas, the fleshy eyelids seemed heavy as lead, and the lips remained stiff and unmoveable. To all outward appearance there was no sign of softening in the fixed face.
Mrs Saxon’s heart sank heavily. Rowena’s lack of response to her appeal was a bitter disappointment; but she realised that it was useless to prolong the interview. A few moments longer she waited, hoping against hope for a word in reply, then stifling a sigh, she rose from her seat.
“Well—I must go back to father. Look after the fire, darling, if you are going to stay here. It is getting low, and you must not catch cold.”
She bent as she passed to kiss the unresponsive lips, and walked from the room carrying a heavy heart in her breast. “If she had only spoken! If she had even looked up and smiled!” Such was the wounded mother cry; and all the time Rowena’s heart was speeding unspoken messages after her as she went.
“Mother! I’m sorry. You are so sweet, and I am a wretch! I will try! I’ll try my best!”
Alas! the ears of sense could not catch the message, and so the opportunity passed, and left both hearts aching and oppressed.