It is possible that Mr. Effingham observed by the fire-light something like glistening moisture on the downcast lashes of his wife; for, laying his hand kindly on her shoulder, he added in a gayer tone, “As long as my watch goes well, Clemence, I do not care to examine the works. I give you unlimited authority. Dissolve your whole House of Commons, if you please it; visit your peers with fine or imprisonment; but don’t bring up appeals to me. A little time—a little judgment—they are all that is wanted; just act for the best, and take things easily.”
Act for the best, and take things easily! How many times Clemence Effingham repeated to herself these oracular words! How long she pondered over the possibility of reconciling with each other the two clauses of the sentence! She had become the mistress of a mansion where everything, beyond mere externals, was in a state of woeful neglect. Petty dishonesty was but one of the many evils which prevailed amongst the numerous members of the household; while, in the family, selfishness, worldliness, and vanity reigned uncontrolled and scarcely disguised. It was a Gordian knot, indeed, that the young wife was given to untie, and she lacked strength to wield the conqueror’s sword! Into the ear of her husband Clemence would have loved to have poured all her difficulties and trials; his sympathy and counsel might have removed many of the former, and cheered and encouraged her under the latter; but, occupied by other cares, Mr. Effingham left his young partner to bear her burden alone. Clemence made more than one attempt to avail herself of the experience of Lady Selina; but the woman of the world was cautious not to compromise herself, or in the slightest degree to share the unpopularity which is the almost inevitable fate of reformers. Nor was she inclined to own the existence of evils that had chiefly arisen from her own neglect. Lady Selina, when consulted by Clemence, listened to her with the cold, impassive smile which seemed the stereotyped expression of her unuttered opinion, “You are such a poor, inexperienced child!” Clemence was left to fight her battles quite alone.
But was it not possible to “take things easily”—to close her eyes to everything that it might be disagreeable to see; to follow the example of Lady Selina, and let affairs take their own course; to enjoy the luxury, and brightness, and gaiety of her life, without examining too closely behind the scenes? Clemence was strongly tempted to do so—strongly tempted to swim with the tide; to fling from herself the burden of responsibility, and forget care in the pleasures of the hour.
It was well for her that she had not received a kinder welcome into the family. Had the path of Clemence been strewn with nothing but flowers, it would have been a path much more fraught with peril. The unkindness and coldness which daily wounded her affectionate and sensitive spirit, were like thorny hedges which fenced her in from wandering from the narrow way. Had the cup of life been all sweetness, it is too probable that it might have intoxicated; Lady Selina and her nieces were unconsciously mixing with it a bitter but salutary medicine. Safer, far safer is it to have the worldly as enemies than as friends. Nothing, perhaps, is more calculated to make a Christian walk carefully than the unavoidable companionship of those who dislike both himself and his religion. He feels that he must not disgrace his profession—that he must give no handle to the sharp blade of detraction, no occasion for the enemy to blaspheme. His trials drive him to the footstool of grace; and while his patience and spirit of forgiveness find constant exercise, the evil from which he suffers makes him more keenly appreciate, more earnestly desire, the harmony, holiness, and happiness of heaven!
CHAPTER V
THE FIRST SKIRMISH.
The circle of Mr. Effingham’s acquaintance was large, and even in the dull wintry season Clemence found that the claims of society took up much of her time and attention. Knocks were frequent at her door; numerous visitors came to introduce themselves to the young wife of the wealthy banker. Clemence felt at first embarrassed, then amused, then wearied by that which lost its charm with its novelty. She became tired of ringing changes on the weather, the last new book, political prospects, and the movements of the court, with a succession of wearers of velvet bonnets and furred mantillas, whom she scarcely knew even by name. Clemence had not as yet much of the small change of conversation, and she had not the courage to produce her gold. Mrs. Effingham seldom entered her carriage, which was usually at the disposal of Lady Selina; Clemence being well pleased to purchase, by relinquishing the luxury of a drive, a little respite from the oppressive companionship of the earl’s daughter.
At Mr. Effingham’s desire, Clemence, early in December, issued cards of invitation for that most formal, and, to a young housewife, most formidable of entertainments—a grand dinner party. She was almost ashamed to find how much her thoughts were occupied by earthly cares, how large a share of her anxious attention was given to preparations for an event of such comparatively trivial importance. Lady Selina, indeed, regarded such arrangements as part of the chief business of life, and did her best to wind up to nervous anxiety Clemence’s desire to order all things so as to do credit to her husband’s establishment. The favourite topic of Lady Selina now appeared to be the strange mistakes, the unpardonable blunders which had occurred within, and far beyond, the limits of her experience, at parties given by the uninitiated. She also delighted to expatiate on such qualities in the expected guests as might render them formidable to their young hostess. Lord Vaughan was a connoisseur in the culinary art, and paid an unheard-of salary to his French cook; Lady Praed always detected at a glance the smallest error in matters of form; Colonel Parsons and Sir William Page were keen opponents in politics, and it would require much tact and management on the part of Mrs. Effingham to ward off any unpleasant discussion. Clemence listened, sighed, and heartily wished that the dreaded evening were over.
Then serious cares disturbed her. The more the young wife entered into the details of her establishment, the more she became aware of the difficulties which surrounded her at every step. Her servants appeared in a combination to overreach and deceive her. Every effort to introduce greater order and economy into her household was met with dogged opposition, and Mrs. Ventner resented all interference on the part of her mistress as a personal injury. The annoyance which Clemence had to endure from the members of her family was of a more painful nature. Arabella and Louisa never forgot—their aunt would never have suffered them to forget—that if Mrs. Effingham was placed above them by marriage, by birth she was not their equal. Clemence, inexperienced as she was, had sufficient natural powers of observation to detect the radical errors in the education of the daughters of her husband. But while she perceived the evil, she sought in vain for its cure; and the joyous hopes with which she had commenced her married life, like the fabled wings of Icarus melting in the sultry beams of the sun, no longer bore her buoyantly aloft!