Edith ordered the carriage on the following morning to take her cousin to Wildwaste; she would herself accompany her thither. Isa would have liked to have asked her young companion to stay and spend the day at the Lodge, to brighten its dulness with her society; but in Gaspar’s nervous and irritable state, Isa feared that a visitor might annoy him, especially on a Saturday morning, which was always given to accounts. Edith, with instinctive delicacy, removed any difficulty on the part of her cousin, by saying that she would not this time remain to pay her visit, but drive on beyond Wild waste to return the call of some neighbouring family.
“While I am at Wildwaste, however, I should like just to look into the little school,” said Edith, as she and her cousin were driving from Castle Lestrange.
“I have been into it two or three times,” observed Isa,—“I mean into the room in which Mrs. Collins teaches the girls; I have never yet ventured amongst the boys—the young savages who look so ragged and wild.”
“Oh! they are polished gentlemen compared to what they were when Mr. Arthur first took them in hand; so Mrs. Holdich has told me,” laughed Edith. “They were like a pack of wild dogs, delighting to torment and worry every creature unfortunate enough to come within their reach, from poor little unfledged sparrows to Mrs. Stone’s son, whom they actually hunted into fits!”
“And Mr. Arthur found some one to bring them into a little better order.”
“Nay, he set about taming them himself; he used to go every morning to play schoolmaster; the ragged little urchins thought it a grand thing to be taught by a gentleman like him. How good does constantly come out of what we call evil!” cried Edith. “Papa did so much dislike letting the dear old Castle to strangers; but if he had not done so, Wildwaste would never have had the blessing of an Arthur Madden.”
“He must have had a kind, generous spirit,” observed Isa rather dreamily, for every reference to the Madden family sent her thoughts back strangely to the past.
“A brave, noble spirit,” cried Edith; “for I have heard that he stood so alone in his labours; instead of his family encouraging and helping him, he was laughed at and opposed—at least by his elder brother and sister. They would, I fancy, as soon have thought of going steadily to work as ‘hands’ in that great soap-manufactory, amongst all the smoke and horrible scent, as of teaching dirty, ragged little ‘roughs’ their A B C in a shed! I cannot imagine Cora Madden touching one of the Wildwaste children with the point of her parasol; and from what one hears of her brother Lionel—but I am getting into evil-speaking,” said Edith interrupting herself. “There is the pretty little school-house, which it must have been such a pleasure to design and build. Papa says that when Arthur Madden returns to England he will certainly ask him to pay a visit to the Castle, for such public spirit ought to be countenanced. But I dare say that Mr. Madden wants no praise—no honour from man—that he serves his heavenly Master in the spirit expressed in my favourite verses;” and in her soft, almost childish accents, Edith repeated Bonar’s beautiful lines,—
“Up and away like the dew of the morning,
Soaring from earth to its home in the sun;