“Nay, what should I care, with all the world against me, so long as Missy was kind?”
CHAPTER VII.
PHOTOGRAPHERS ABROAD.
Mrs. Morland, as may have been gathered, was in a sense an indulgent mother, and her children lacked nothing necessary for their health or their comfort. Her personal interest in their private concerns, their hobbies, their undertakings, their studies, was regulated entirely by what she estimated as social opinion—by the effect which the particular hobby or pursuit in question might have on the position of Frances and of Austin among their juvenile fellows, and in the eyes of Mrs. Morland’s own acquaintances.
Thus, she had almost from the first set the seal of her approval on the Society of the Altruists; because she observed that Frances, as founder and leader of that energetic body, had secured a kind of sovereignty over her comrades; also, that the majority of the better-class Woodendites spoke well of the young people’s efforts, and gave honour to Frances as the inspirer of all their best intentions. Greater still was the credit given to the girl for the modesty which made her obviously unaware of the good opinions she had won from her mother’s friends, and for the unselfishness which made her eager to admire the generous labours of her supporters; and Mrs. Morland was careful to do nothing to make Frances more self-conscious, and therefore less attractive to critical eyes.
At home, the mother was content to give an occasional peep into the club-room when a meeting was in full swing, and to subscribe liberally when funds were requisitioned; abroad, she was fond of allusions to “my lassie’s up-to-date fancies,—which really, you know, are quite amusingly altruistic”. Mrs. Morland was by no means a popular person, in spite of her local distinction. Woodend happened to be favoured with, for its size, an unusually large number of well-to-do residents; and among these, by birth, by fortune, by knowledge of the world, Mrs. Morland had an undoubted prominence. When qualities of head and heart were considered, her claims were less readily admitted.
Yet she was, in a degree, an able woman, though her talents were purely social, and she had no sympathy with art or with letters except in so far as they might help to secure social consideration. Austin inherited a share of his mother’s gifts, and was naturally her favourite child. In Frances she detected all those qualities which had least appealed to her in her husband’s character; but as most people seemed to find these traits admirable, she gave them toleration on account of their value in the eyes of others.
Christmas-day dawned in what the girls and boys of Woodend called “proper weather”—snow under foot, clear blue sky and sunshine overhead. Frances and Austin had worked hard on Christmas-eve at church decorations, proving themselves Muriel Carlyon’s best allies. Their mother viewed without enthusiasm the ornamentation of her pictures, furniture, and walls, when the materials were holly and fir. Indeed, she called such time-honoured greenstuff “messy nonsense”, which soiled whatever it touched when fresh, and covered the floors with litter when dry. In church, she found it unnecessary to disapprove of anything which had the sanctity of tradition to support its use; and so she willingly granted Muriel’s request that the two youngsters might be spared to help her, and allowed to share her luncheon in order to save the time spent in going home.
Muriel Carlyon was a popular person both in school and out of it, but she certainly shone as a holiday companion. She was as invariably ready to interest herself in the latest schemes of harmless frolic as in the soberer matters of daily life and duty, and had been quite as enthusiastic as any of her pupils over the plans for the great entertainment, quite as delighted at its triumphant success. There were a few among her younger friends who knew that her sympathies could go deeper still, that she could sorrow with the sorrowing, and point the way to seek for comfort.
The old rector, Dr. Stansby, looked on Edward and Muriel Carlyon almost as a son and daughter. They spent with him all they could of their scanty leisure, and held it a pleasant duty to see that a sense of growing infirmity should not touch his peace of mind. No parish matter could be neglected while these two workers watched over affairs, and Edward tackled bravely the few abuses which old-fashioned prejudices had rendered unassailable in the days when Dr. Stansby had laboured alone.
The brightness of the Christmas morning with which my story is concerned was reflected in the faces of Mrs. Morland’s pair of youngsters as they ran into the breakfast-room to see what fate had sent them. Their mother followed at leisure, her simple winter morning-gown falling gracefully about her stately person. She never had been known to be in a hurry; and of late years the assured comfort of her circumstances, and the small demands made on her for sustained exertion, had weakened further her naturally inert disposition. But she had a smiling face for her children when they sprang back to throw their arms about her and offer grateful kisses.