A whole pile was on the table, and Mrs. Merrifield looked at them with feeble thanks and an odd sort of conscious dread, though she could with perfect truth have denied either ‘taking it’ or reading it.
Bessie came to her relief. ‘Thank you,’ she said; ‘we do; some of us have it. Is your daughter’s article signed A. A., and doesn’t it describe a boarding-house on the Italian lakes? I thought it very clever and amusing.’
Mrs. Arthuret’s face lighted up. ‘Oh yes, my dear,’ slipped out in her delight. ‘And do you know, it all came of her letter to one of the High School ladies, who is sister to the sub-editor, such a clever, superior girl! She read it to the headmistress and all, and they agreed that it was too good to be lost, and Arthurine copied it out and added to it, and he—Mr. Jarrett—said it was just what he wanted—so full of information and liveliness—and she is writing some more for him.’
Mrs. Merrifield was rather shocked, but she felt that she herself was in a glass house, was, in fact, keeping a literary daughter, so she only committed herself to, ‘She is very young.’
‘Only one-and-twenty,’ returned Mrs. Arthuret triumphantly; ‘but then she has had such advantages, and made such use of them. Everything seems to come at once, though, perhaps, it is unthankful to say so. Of course, it is no object now, but I could not help thinking what it would have been to us to have discovered this talent of hers at the time when we could hardly make both ends meet.’
‘She will find plenty of use for it,’ said Mrs. Merrifield, who, as the wife of a country squire and the mother of nine children, did not find it too easy to make her ends meet upon a larger income.
‘Oh yes! indeed she will, the generous child. She is full of plans for the regeneration of the village.’
Poor Mrs. Merrifield! this was quite too much for her. She thought it irreverent to apply the word in any save an ecclesiastical sense; nor did she at all desire to have the parish, which was considered to be admirably worked by the constituted authorities, ‘regenerated,’ whatever that might mean, by a young lady of one-and-twenty. She rose up and observed to her daughter that she saw papa out upon the lawn, and she thought it was time to go home.
Mrs. Arthuret came out with them, and found what Bessie could only regard as a scene of desolation. Though gentlemen, as a rule, have no mercy on trees, and ladies are equally inclined to cry, ‘Woodman, spare that tree,’ the rule was reversed, for Miss Arthuret was cutting, and ordering cutting all round her ruthlessly with something of the pleasure of a child in breaking a new toy to prove that it is his own, scarcely listening when the Admiral told her what the trees were, and how beautiful in their season; while even as to the evergreens, she did not know a yew from a cedar, and declared that she must get rid of this horrid old laurustinus, while she lopped away at a Portugal laurel. Her one idea seemed to be that it was very unwholesome to live in a house surrounded with trees; and the united influence of the Merrifields, working on her mother by representing what would be the absence of shade in a few months’ time, barely availed to save the life of the big cedar; while the great rhododendron, wont to present a mountain of shining leaves and pale purple blossoms every summer, was hewn down without remorse as an awful old laurel, and left a desolate brown patch in its stead.
‘Is it an emblem,’ thought Bessie, ‘of what she would like to do to all of us poor old obstructions?’