A VISIT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
During the evening at Mr. Drummond's there had been very little opportunity for Mr. Armstrong to discover that the gentleman with white hair was the head of the school at which his little Freddy attended as a pupil. He had been greatly pleased with the gentle and refined manners of Dr. Halford and his son, and felt at once that they were both men of superior education. He had greatly appreciated their remarks on both literary and scientific subjects after the ladies had left the dinner-table; but, unfortunately, one of Mr. Armstrong's narrow-minded prejudices made him judge schoolmasters and clergymen with anything but Christian charity. Added to this they were proverbially poor, and poverty in his eyes was becoming almost a crime.
"What business," he would say, "has a man to educate his son to be a clergyman if he has not independent means, or a living ready for him? or even to be a schoolmaster, with fine notions about education, and not a penny in his pocket? Better by far make him a carpenter or a shoemaker, to work for his living without having to endure the torture of keeping up a genteel appearance upon poverty."
Mr. Armstrong had been unfortunate in his experience respecting schoolmasters and curates; and with the unbending obstinacy of his nature adhered to the opinion he had formed. The bare idea that Dr. Halford could be a schoolmaster, or that his son was studying at Oxford to become a curate, never occurred to him. His wife, who knew his prejudiced opinions too well, would not enlighten him on the subject, while speaking next morning of the great pleasure he had found in their society, although she wondered that the name had not reminded him of Freddy's school.
Mrs. Armstrong congratulated herself, as she remembered that Mary's father had been too much occupied at the dinner-table to notice the gentleman who sat by her side. "If any unpleasantness should arise from the attentions of that young man to my daughter," she said to herself, "I shall have to remove my little Freddy from school, and he is so happy there."
One afternoon, after the Easter holidays, Freddy brought home a little note, fortunately addressed to herself, containing the quarter's account. The sum was comparatively trifling, and she sent it herself the next day by Freddy. It had been made out to Mr. Armstrong; but she feared to show him the bill on which the name of Halford stood so conspicuously written.
Mrs. Armstrong was giving herself unnecessary anxiety. Henry Halford was already at Oxford absorbed in his books, and more than ever determined to ignore even the existence of a certain young lady with large grey eyes and bright brown hair, who had for a time dazzled his senses.
And Mary, did a thought of that pleasant dinner-party ever pass over her mind? Yes; for true to her promise she had read Milton's works with greater interest than ever; she had made notes of the explanations Mr. Henry Halford had given her so far as she could remember them, and perhaps a little feeling of disappointment arose in her heart that he had not sent the copy of "Paradise Lost," which he had offered to lend her, and which contained notes in the margin. Mary Armstrong owned to herself that she liked Mr. Henry Halford, both in manners and appearance; and, above all, for being so evidently clever and well-informed; but she was not likely to be easily won. The thought of marriage, as a possible event at some future time, would sometimes occur to her; but falling in love implied a weakness, and the citadel of Mary Armstrong's heart was so well guarded by constant and active employment, a love of acquiring knowledge, and a mind well informed on the best subjects, that it would need a strong siege to make the citadel surrender. At present, therefore, Mary was free; and the spring months passed away; and June, with its roses, its blue skies and balmy air, arrived to gladden the earth.
The health of Mrs. Armstrong had greatly improved since her residence at Lime Grove. Freddy was also looking well and rosy; and letters from Edward and Arthur were full of the anticipation of the happiness in store for them during the Midsummer holidays.
One morning early in June a carriage drove up to the gate of Lime Grove, and to Mrs. Armstrong's great satisfaction she saw her sister, Mrs. Herbert, preparing to alight. The colonel and his wife had been abroad during the winter; and the sisters met in the hall with affectionate pleasure.
"Why, Mary," said her aunt, as her niece came forward to welcome her, "you are grown quite a woman; and you and your mother look so well, I am sure this place must agree with you."
"Yes, indeed it does, aunt," replied Mary, leading her to a chair; "but has it not made a change in mamma?"
"Wonderful!" said the lady, as she seated herself.
"Wont you take off your bonnet, Helen, and stay to lunch?" asked her sister.
"Yes, presently. I want a little talk first, and there is plenty of time."
"Let me send a message to the coachman to put up the horses, aunt," said Mary; "it's a long drive from town, and they must want rest."
Mrs. Herbert agreed to remain for an hour or two; the horses were safely stabled, and the servants desired to give the two men their dinners; all, indeed, was arranged according to Mary's wishes, for Mrs. Armstrong gave up every household management to her active, energetic daughter.
"Well, upon my word, Mary," said her aunt, after having been, as she said, carried upstairs by force of arms to remove her bonnet and shawl, and was now seated in a luxurious chair near an open window, "upon my word you manage to have your own way very decidedly."
"Perhaps I do," she replied, laughing; "but now, aunt, is it not more comfortable to feel you have nothing to do but talk or listen, instead of being obliged to interrupt a pleasant conversation to get ready for lunch in a great hurry?"
"Ah, yes, I daresay you are right, Mary; but now, before I tell you one cause of my visit I must hear all the news. Do you like your house as well as ever?"
"Yes, quite; indeed I may say, better, for the garden is repaying the money we laid out upon it last year, and we have obtained such a nice school for Freddy."
"Your flowers are beautiful, I can see so far," said Mrs. Herbert—and so of one thing and another the ladies continued to talk, till at last, after Mary's drawings had been examined, her German lessons described, as well as the beautiful grey mare her father had given her—Mrs. Herbert said, "When will Edward be at home, Maria?"
"Not before five; we dine at six. If you wish to see him you must stay to dinner."
"I would rather not do so; it will make my return home so late. Do you think I may venture to take Mary away for a week or ten days without asking her father's consent?"
"Oh, aunt, I'm afraid not," said Mary, "if you wish me to visit you in Park Lane."
"Only for a day or two, my dear. Your uncle and I are going to Oxford for a week on a special invitation from Charles, and in his letter he says I am to be sure and bring Mary."
"It is no use to look so anxiously at me, my dear," said Mrs. Armstrong; "I could not decide myself in such a matter; you must persuade your aunt to stay to dinner, and then she can ask your father herself."
"Would you like to go, Mary?" said her aunt.
"Oh yes, above all things, aunt. I went to Cambridge once with papa, but he says it is nothing to Oxford. We shall be able to visit the colleges, and the museum, and libraries. I've read about them; and to visit such ancient, antique places, will be a great treat."
"Charles seems to think," replied her aunt, "that there is nothing so likely to attract visitors to Oxford as the grand commemoration which takes place once in three years, and is to happen this year. I suppose, from what he says, that it will be a very gay and exciting time at Oxford."
"Can you manage without me, mamma?" asked Mary, suddenly.
"Certainly, darling; I would not deprive you of such a pleasure for a great deal."
"Then if aunt cannot stay I'll ask papa myself, and perhaps he will take me to Park Lane to-morrow, when he goes to town."
"I should like to have a decision to-day, my dear, that I may write to Charles and tell him when to expect us, so I suppose I must stay, for I intend to take you back with me this evening, Mary; and as it is daylight till ten o'clock, we need not mind being late."
This decision gave pleasure to both mother and daughter; and after luncheon Mary left the sisters to their pleasant afternoon chat, while she went to pack a box with various articles which she knew she should require for so long a visit.
"I don't think my father will refuse to grant me this great pleasure," she said to herself, "so I may as well have everything in readiness, and not keep aunt Helen waiting when his consent is obtained. If he does object to my going I can easily unpack my box again, and replace everything."
But Mary sighed at the prospect of a disappointment.
She was, however, not doomed to such a result. Mr. Armstrong could not resist the pleading eyes of his daughter when her aunt stated her wish, and readily gave his consent. As quickly as possible after they had dined, the carriage was brought to the door. Yet with all the delightful anticipations of the visit in store for her, Mary could not part from her mother without a feeling of regret which almost produced tears. She had so lately left her to visit her grandfather for a week, and as she kissed her she whispered—"Mamma, are you sure you can manage without me, and shall you feel lonely?"
"No no, dearest, don't be afraid, Morris will do all I require, and I shall amuse myself by thinking of your happiness, and of all you will have to tell me on your return."
Mr. Armstrong seemed to participate fully in his daughter's pleasure, and as he placed her in the carriage with her aunt, after kissing her affectionately, a deep feeling of pride rose in his heart. Mary was all he could wish her to be. He had superintended her education, and to himself alone he attributed all the good qualities she possessed.
"My daughter will attract notice in the society she meets at Colonel Herbert's," he said to himself. "I wish her to marry well, both as to position and money. She is not likely to make a foolish attachment. At all events, should such a thing arise I have influence enough with her to put a stop to it. Mary will not disobey me."
Meanwhile Colonel Herbert's open carriage was bowling along on its delicate springs towards London in the pleasant summer evening.
For some minutes the present and anticipated enjoyment kept Mary silent. At last her aunt made some remark which caused her to say—"I thought cousin Charles was at Windsor with his regiment."
"So he was a week ago, but he has taken advantage of leave of absence to visit an old friend at Oxford, who has lately obtained a fellowship, and he is so delighted with the place that he wishes us to participate in his pleasure."
"He is very kind to think of me," replied Mary, "and you could not have proposed for me a greater treat. When do you intend to start?"
"On Thursday, I hope, but I must write to Charles this evening that he may secure apartments at the Mitre Hotel. I believe that during the week of commemoration Oxford presents a very gay appearance, and every available room in the town is quickly hired at a fabulous rent. I have heard the scenes described, but while Charles was at the Woolwich Academy the grand days there in which he figured were my greatest attraction."
"Oh yes, aunt, I can quite understand a preference for the places where our own relations are studying. Those days when you took me to Woolwich while cousin Charles was a cadet were delightful."
And so the aunt and niece continued to talk till the carriage drove into Park Lane, and Colonel Herbert appeared to welcome the arrival of his niece.
"Well done, Helen," he said, as his wife led Mary in. "So you have succeeded in your expedition, and enticed the home bird from her nest?"
"Not without waiting for permission from head-quarters," she replied. "I was made to remain to dinner, for the young lady appeared resolute; she would not stir without her father's sanction, which, however, was most readily given."
"Quite right, Mary, there can be no hope of future happiness in any matter which opposes a parent's will."
"Take Miss Armstrong to her room, Annette," said Mrs. Herbert to the little French maid, who stood waiting to attend the young lady; and then she added in English—"I am going to write to Charles at once, Mary. Go with Annette, she will unpack your box, and do all you require."
Mary followed the tastefully yet neatly dressed French girl to a pleasant room overlooking the park, and soon delighted the young foreigner in a strange land by addressing her with ease in her own language.
Mary, after arranging her dress, and allowing her beautiful hair to pass through the agile fingers of the French girl, seated herself at the open window to watch with eager amusement the varied groups who still lingered or sauntered leisurely along in the cool evening air.
The summons for tea took her to the drawing-room, and the evening passed in listening to descriptions of her aunt's journey to the south of France, and of the beautiful château overlooking the blue waters of the Mediterranean in which they had lived.
"We often wished you and your mother were with us, Mary," said her uncle, "all the reading in the world about these lovely spots can never realise the scenes to the imagination of the reader in their full beauty. They must be seen to be understood."
"I hope I shall have that opportunity some day," said Mary. "Papa often talks about spending a few months on the Continent, although he dreads the thought of leaving the management of his business to others. But, aunt Helen, I should think some of the scenery in Wales or Scotland, and in England too, especially in the lake country, must be as beautiful as any place in foreign lands."
"England has a beauty of its own in its soft and picturesque scenery," said her uncle, "but in the glorious south the sunshine, the luxurious vegetation, and the clear air, which makes distant objects so sharply defined, render the scenery very unlike that of a northern landscape. Still, it is a fact that many English people go abroad to admire foreign countries who know nothing of the beauties in their own native land."
"I've heard papa make the same remark, uncle, and I shall always feel thankful to him for taking me so many pleasant trips through England, and if I ever have the good fortune to visit other countries I shall be able to make comparisons, and I don't think dear old England will lose much after all."
"Quite right, Mary, stand up for your own native land, and be thankful that you are not being suffocated with the heat in India, nor subject in England to earthquakes, tornados, or storms, such as destroy cities, and terrify so often the inhabitants of the torrid zone."
"Indeed I am thankful already, uncle, for I have heard Aunt Helen describe Indian storms, and the terrible heat, too often not to be glad I have a dear English home. Is the scenery round Oxford beautiful?" she asked after a pause.
"It is rather flat, but very picturesque on the banks of the Thames, which runs behind Christchurch Meadows, especially in summer. Have you never been in Oxfordshire, Mary?"
"No, uncle, but I have seen Windsor, that is the next county, so I suppose there is a similarity in the scenery."
"A little, perhaps, but I will leave you to judge for yourself. And now, suppose you give us a little music."
And thus the evening passed away, and we cannot wonder if in Mary's dreams were mixed up various subjects which had made that day so different to the quiet studious scenes of home.
Next day they drove to the Kensington Museum, and afterwards spent a few hours at the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, the latter always a delight to Mary. And at a rather early hour she laid her head on her pillow full of joyous anticipations of the morrow's journey.
Could she have foreseen the result of this visit would she have shrunk from it? We cannot tell.