MOTHER AND SON.
There is something in the old Saxon word "mother" which seems to convey more of love and dignity, and to command a greater amount of respect, than any of its substitutes in other languages.
Perhaps its constant use in the old Saxon translation of the Bible has thrown a halo of sanctity over the homely word, for no names in Scripture have been more honoured than those of the mothers of holy men. In our own biographies of great and good men, how often to the mother's influence over her boy, from even the days of infancy, can be traced the high principles, the noble character, and the great worth of the man! Most truly has it been said that the future of a child depends upon the training of the first five years of his life. It is therefore to mothers that this period of a boy's history is by Nature entrusted, and upon them chiefly rests the responsibility of laying the foundation of a high-principled, noble, and truthful character.
Another saying, that mothers love their sons better than their daughters, is not always true, especially in such a case as Mrs. Halford's, when only one son and one daughter live to grow up.
And yet it is doubtful whether she would have parted so easily with her son had he proposed to place half the globe between himself and his family, for very dear was her clever and talented son to the almost childless mother.
The old adage—
"My son is my son till he gets him a wife,
My daughter's my daughter all the days of her life,"
seemed reversed to Mrs. Halford, for Fanny had been completely lost to her mother since her marriage.
She was also strongly impressed with the idea that Henry would continue to assist in carrying on the school, even after his ordination, and then marry some amiable girl who would live with them at Englefield Grange, and to be to her as a daughter in the place of Fanny.
Such were some of Mrs. Halford's castles in the air, greatly augmented by observing with a mother's penetration that her son was admiring Miss Armstrong. Even while her own good sense told her that the daughter of Mr. Armstrong would never obtain her father's consent to a marriage with her son, still she had hope that in some way or other such a result was not impossible.
August of the year which had already been so full of changes and events had arrived.
The pupils were returning to Englefield Grange after the Midsummer vacation, and Mrs. Halford quickly noticed that little Freddy Armstrong was not amongst them.
She waited a fortnight, and then one afternoon at the tea-table spoke to her husband on the subject.
"Mr. Armstrong's little boy has not come back yet," she said, "had you not better send a note, James? They have perhaps forgotten the day on which the school reopened."
"No, my dear, it is not necessary. I received a very polite note from Mr. Armstrong in the holidays, telling me that he intended to send the boy with his brothers this quarter, and enclosing a cheque for the Midsummer amount."
"Why did you not mention it, James?" she asked.
"I did not think it necessary, for I supposed you and Kate would hear of the new arrangement from Henry, as he is so friendly at Lime Grove."
The mother glanced at her son. In spite of his utmost efforts he could not conceal his agitation, yet he did manage to say—
"I have seen nothing of Mr. Armstrong's family for weeks, father."
"No, Henry, I daresay not," said his mother, quickly, "you are studying too closely to have time to spare for visiting. Besides, the loss of one little pupil is not a matter of great importance to us."
After a glance at Henry's pale face, Kate Marston took the first opportunity of turning the subject, and though by so doing she enabled her cousin to recover himself and join in the conversation, he very soon left the tea-table.
Mrs. Halford heard the door of his little study close on her son, but that did not deter her from her purpose. As soon as the tea was removed she rose and left the room.
Henry Halford, after leaving the tea-table and locking the door of his study, was for a few moments unable to touch a book. Resting his head on his hands, he gave himself up to reflection.
He had made a venture and failed; and deeply as he felt the mortification caused by Mr. Armstrong's letter, yet in his cooler moments he could clearly see that, in a worldly point of view, his proposal would appear an act of presumption.
He was still sitting in listless idleness, indulging in these painful thoughts, when a knock at the door startled him, and he impatiently exclaimed—
"Who is there?"
"I, your mother, Henry. I want to speak to you."
Without a moment's delay the lock was drawn back, and mother and son stood together in the room.
Mrs. Halford closed the door gently and locked it, and Henry, placing a chair near the table for his mother, seated himself and looked inquiringly at her.
"Mother," he exclaimed, suddenly, "you have guessed my secret."
"I know there must be something on your mind," she replied. "Close study has never before made you listless and unhappy."
"I fly to books to drown thought, they are my only relief."
"Would it not relieve you to confide in your mother, Henry?"
There was a pause.
"You used to tell me all your troubles when you were a child, and why not now?"
He raised his head, and the words burst forth impulsively—
"Mother, if I had told you weeks ago, instead of acting on impulse as I always do, I might have spared myself bitter mortification."
"In what way, my son? Explain yourself."
"You know I met Miss Armstrong at Oxford, mother, and on the evening before she left I said something to her under an impulse I could not resist, and now I regret it."
"On what account?"
"Because I have written to ask her father's consent to make her my wife, and he has refused me. Don't tell me I am a fool," he added, seeing her about to speak, "I know it now. What have I to offer as an equivalent to a young lady with such superior attractions and accomplishments as Mary Armstrong, setting aside the large fortune which her father can give her?"
"Does he write kindly?" asked the mother, whose heart ached for her son.
"Yes, and sensibly; here is the letter;" and he took Mr. Armstrong's letter from the desk and handed it to her.
She read it and returned it to him in silence.
"You will not allow this disappointment to interfere with your future intentions, Henry?"
"No, indeed," he replied, "I am throwing off the memory of my folly by degrees, and I own I am relieved by telling you all about it. I am not vain enough to suppose that Miss Armstrong will be influenced by the impulsive, unmeaning words I said to her, so there is no harm done. I have no doubt little Freddy was removed to prevent the possibility of any further intercourse. So ends my first and last dream of love."
"Better so, my son, better so, both for your sake and Miss Armstrong's. I quite agree with Mr. Armstrong about long courtship. You would not be in a position to marry for three or four years at the earliest, and not even then to such a girl as Miss Armstrong unless you had a living of some real value."
For nearly an hour Mrs. Halford remained with her son, listening to his account of the pleasant days at Oxford, and their result, and when at last she rose to go, he said—
"Please do not allow the subject to be spoken of by Kate, if you tell her, but I should like my father to know, and by-and-by I may be able to laugh over my folly as a thing of the past."
"No reference shall be made, Henry, I promise you," said Mrs. Halford, as her son rose to open the door for her with the family courtesy now so seldom seen.
He closed it after her, but without locking it. This little interview had done him good. A painful secret loses more than half its bitterness when it has been listened to with sympathising love by a true friend. And who such a true friend as a mother? She had purposely said very little to her son of her own opinion on the matter, but as she slowly ascended the stairs to be alone in her own room for a time, she said to herself—
"I will pay Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter a visit some day. I should like to become acquainted with this girl who has so fascinated my son."
And then, as she seated herself to reflect on what she had heard, her thoughts reverted to her own only daughter, whom she had not seen for nearly fifteen years. Mrs. Franklyn had written once only since the birth of little Albert, and although she spoke of being weaker than usual, and longing to visit England again and see them all, yet she was careful not to alarm her mother.
This reticence on Fanny's part, and her husband's lively and sanguine letters, removed all fear of anything serious about the health of the dearly-loved daughter. And yet at this very moment a letter from Fanny was on its way to England, in which she touched gently on the possibility that she might not live to reach England in the following spring, and enclosing one to her brother to be opened in case of her death.
This letter, however, which did not arrive till the end of October, was accompanied as usual by one from Arthur, written in good spirits, and attributing Fanny's illness and gloomy letters to nervousness.
But we must not anticipate the sorrowful news contained in our last chapter, which will reach Englefield Grange all too soon, and be the more bitterly mourned because almost unexpected.
At this particular time of which we write, Mrs. Halford could think of nothing but her son's disappointment, and the more she reflected on the subject the more indignant she felt.
On what could Mr. Armstrong base his objections to her son beyond the fact that his daughter was rich and her son poor? After all, a schoolmaster in Dr. Halford's position was at least equal to a tradesman, as Mr. Armstrong undoubtedly was. And if his wife could lay claim to good birth, she had been told that Mr. Armstrong was only the son of a Hampshire farmer. Whereas her son, Henry Halford, could boast that the ancestors of both his parents were quite equal in position to those of Mrs. Armstrong. She had seen that lady, and could trace in her not one spark of upstart pride, but the thorough good-breeding of a well-born gentlewoman. Besides all this, would not her son in a few years be a clergyman, and as such, to the honour of England be it said, admissible, on account of his education and the sacredness of his office, to any society?
What else then could influence Mr. Armstrong's refusal but a love of money and what it can buy? He had spoken in his letter of other plans in view for his daughter, and these no doubt were attempts on the father's part to purchase position for her, or to sacrifice her girlish affections for riches and a title.
So reflected Mrs. Halford, and she was not far wrong.
Like many men of strong prejudices, Mr. Armstrong had only overcome these prejudices to go into extremes.
The peculiar ideas which influenced him during his early married life had all disappeared with the increase of wealth. No talk now of "aping the gentry." Money and education had raised him to their level, and therefore far above schoolmasters and curates, or any such poverty-stricken members of society.
But Mrs. Halford's reflections were not made known to her son by even a hint. Had she been only a fond and foolish mother, she would have openly expressed her indignation at the treatment he had received, and aroused in him wounded pride and angry resentment, which would have unsettled his mind for his studies, and made him unfit to assist his father in the schoolroom.
Instead of this, her calm and quiet acquiescence in Mr. Armstrong's letter strengthened the young man in his purpose of overcoming the past and looking forward to the future.
Yet Mrs. Halford had not set aside the idea of paying Mrs. Armstrong a visit. For in her heart she did not despair of her son's ultimate success with Miss Armstrong. If that young lady deserved the opinion expressed of her by father and son, and was not quite indifferent towards the latter—well, it would certainly be difficult to make that discovery, however she would try.
For some weeks nothing occurred to give Mrs. Halford the opportunity she wished for, but it presented itself at last in a most singular manner. She had been seeking a new under-housemaid, and one morning a girl called upon her, whose manner and appearance pleased her so much, that after a little talk with her she decided to call upon her late mistress respecting her character.
What was that lady's surprise when the girl gave her the address of Mrs. Armstrong, Lime Grove!
At once she saw the way open before her, and sent the young woman with a message to ask if between twelve and one the next day would be convenient for a visit respecting the character of a servant.
Mrs. Armstrong had been very much interested in this young housemaid, who was not, however, sufficiently acquainted with her business, and on that account only she had parted with her.
It so happened that when the girl brought the message Mrs. Armstrong was engaged, otherwise she would have questioned her kindly respecting her new situation.
All, therefore, that could be done was to answer the message, which merely asked if Mrs. Armstrong could see a lady about Jane's character at the time named.
The reply in the affirmative gave Mrs. Halford the opportunity of paying an unexpected visit so far as her name went, but of this she was not aware when she presented herself next morning at the appointed time and sent in her card.
Mary and her mother were seated in the library, the former at the easel, the latter at work, when the servant entered.
"The lady about Jane's character, ma'am," she said, as she offered the card to her mistress.
Without reading it, Mrs. Armstrong laid it on the table by her side.
The next moment Mrs. Halford was ushered into the room.
Two of the three who then met so unexpectedly never forgot that meeting.
Although inwardly agitated, Mrs. Halford had self-possession enough to glance round the room as she entered. A young girl with bright golden hair, dressed in deep mourning, rose from her easel and bowed gracefully. She was about to reseat herself and resume her painting, when to her surprise she saw her mother advance towards the visitor, hold out her hand, and exclaim—
"How are you, Mrs. Halford? I am most happy to see you. Pray take a chair. I was not prepared for this unexpected pleasure; my housemaid told me it was a lady for the character of a servant. My daughter Mary," she added, seeing that young lady still standing by her easel, and Mrs. Halford looking earnestly at her.
With outward ease Mary Armstrong advanced to shake hands with the visitor, while every nerve quivered with surprise and excitement.
A sudden paleness was followed by a deep flush, which did not fade from her face while the interview lasted.
All this passed in a very few seconds, and then Mrs. Halford seated herself and referred to the object of her visit.
"I have come to inquire into the character of your late housemaid, Mrs. Armstrong, Jane Ford," she said. "I suppose she did not mention my name yesterday, when I sent her to ascertain if to-day at this hour would be convenient, but I sent in my card this morning."
"I must really plead guilty to not having read it," replied Mrs. Armstrong, "but I shall be glad to tell you all I can in Jane's favour, perhaps with double pleasure now I know the lady by whom she is likely to be engaged."
The ladies then entered at once into the various and usual inquiries made and replied to on such occasions. Well for Jane Ford that these two ladies did not belong to the class of mistresses who forget that young servants are human beings, endowed with the same feelings and tempers as themselves, that they also have likes and dislikes, affections and emotions, causes for joy or sorrow, all of which are apt to affect their natures more strongly, because in childhood they are often ill-trained, neglected, or exposed to bad example at home.
At all events, what passed so influenced Mrs. Halford, that she decided at once to engage the young woman of whom Mrs. Armstrong spoke so kindly.
During the conversation Mrs. Halford frequently allowed her eyes to wander towards the spot where Mary sat painting near the window, her beautiful profile defined in strong relief against the light.
Conscious of the glances cast upon her, the colour on Mary's cheeks deepened, but when Mrs. Halford rose and approached her to crave permission to examine the drawing, there was no want of well-bred ease in her manner of replies.
The conversation became general, and touched on other subjects, in which Mary joined readily; indeed, Mrs. Halford had introduced them to draw out this young girl whom her son so admired.
Nearly an hour passed, and then Mrs. Halford was reminded that she would soon be wanted at home for the dinner-hour, by the pendule on the mantelpiece chiming one o'clock.
As she rose in haste to take her leave, the door opened and Freddy entered. For a moment he did not recognise Mrs. Halford; but when she exclaimed—
"Why is my little Freddy still at home?" he came forward at once, and placing his little hand in hers, said, with childlike candour—
"Oh, Mrs. Halford, are you come to ask mamma to send me back to your school! I should like it so much! Dear Mary teaches me now," he added, with a look of affection at his sister, "but I've no boys to play with now. Edward and Arthur are gone back to school, and I don't care about playing alone."
"I persuaded Mr. Armstrong to keep Freddy at home till Easter," said Mrs. Armstrong in explanation; "he is rather too young to be with boys so much older than himself, at least at boarding-school, and his papa has a great objection to day schools as a rule."
"Many parents have that objection," was the gentle reply.
Mrs. Halford quite understood the apology for the removal of her boy from Dr. Halford which the mother's words were intended to convey. But she also by other signs made a greater discovery. Neither mother nor daughter knew anything of Henry's letter or of its reception.
"I hope Dr. Halford and your son are quite well. We have not seen Mr. Halford lately; I suppose he is constantly engaged in study, and has no time for visiting."
Just as Mrs. Armstrong commenced this inquiry, Mrs. Halford had turned to wish Mary good-by. She felt the hand she held quiver as the mother spoke, and the telltale blush could not all be ascribed to the suddenness of rising from her chair. She pressed the young girl's hand, and then turned to the mother.
"My husband and son are quite as well as usual, Mrs. Armstrong; and Henry is more wrapped up in his studies than ever. Thank you very much for so kindly inquiring for them, but Henry has given up all idea of visiting for the present."
And so the ladies parted, Mrs. Halford charmed with the young girl who had won her son's heart; and Mary, after accompanying her visitor to the door and giving her a last bow and smile as she passed into the road, went to her room to prepare for lunch.
Mechanically she made the necessary alterations, all her thoughts occupied with the tall, gentle lady, who in manner and words and face so strongly reminded her of her son, notwithstanding the silvery white hair and difference of years.