“She was ill then, nurse says.”
“Yes; her strength had declined very much, and that was the reason why I was so uneasy about her. While she was in health, she was the one to give, not to need, support; and, to the last, the strength of her mind never failed.”
“Nurse told us once what mamma said the day before she died, about us, and about every body who depended on her for any thing.”
“I gave nurse leave to repeat it to you when she thought you could understand and feel it properly; and I am glad she has, because Mrs. Fletcher can tell you much more which you are now prepared to hear. She will tell you how your mother and she used to study together; perhaps she will show you the bible, marked by themselves for their own use.”
“I have often wanted to know,” said Mary, “what parts my mother was most fond of, and read the oftenest; but I never asked you, because I thought you would tell me when the right time came.”
“It is the right time now,” said her father, kissing them both; “bring the bible from below, and we will read a portion to which she used to turn perpetually when she was in any trouble.”
The next morning, the girls were ready dressed to make breakfast early for their father, that he might be in time for the coach to London. But anxious as they were to make him comfortable on all occasions, they did not understand the way, and knew nothing about the many little niceties on which domestic comfort depends. How should they, when there was nobody but servants to teach them? They were very quick of observation, and if their father had allowed them to visit his friends, and to see what was done in other houses, their wish to learn, and their affection for him, would have enabled them to improve their domestic notions and habits; but Mr. Byerley was, as we have said, sadly prejudiced in some respects; and he would allow of no intercourse between his daughters and any of their neighbours. The neighbours thought it very odd, of course. Mr. Wilkins was wont to shake his head when he told his wife how poor Byerley’s children were being spoiled for life by being so shut up as they were; and Miss Pratt, their opposite neighbour, was much scandalized at their method of romping with Nurse Rickham’s children; and the young Grants, who, to the number of eight, were boating, riding, and driving every day and all day long, supposed that the poor Miss Byerley’s were intended to be very learned, as they could read Latin, it was understood, and had been seen, one day when the blind was open, poring over a globe. It did not, of course, signify what such neighbours as these thought of Mr. Byerley’s method of education; but there were two or three families of a better class as to sense and merit, with whom the girls might have associated with great advantage to themselves; and the very commonest circumstances which take place in a tolerably well-regulated family would have conveyed much instruction to these motherless children, which could in no other way be supplied. Mrs. Rickham had taught them to sew, and that well; but about the management of the kitchen and larder she knew little, and next to nothing of the customs of the parlour. Their father often sighed when he contrasted the appearance and manners of his children at table, with what they would have been if their mother had lived; and sometimes he sent them to smooth their hair or change their frocks before he would sit down with them; but it was beyond his power to establish regular habits of neatness and method, and he trusted that this would be done by their own observation and care when they should, at length, see something of the world. He found that the servants grew more and more awkward and remiss from the inability of the young ladies to direct them steadily and with propriety, as children as young as themselves are able to do when well taught. He was partly to blame himself, for his habits were, in some respects, eccentric.
On this morning, he called from his chamber-door to desire the servant to run and take his place in the coach. This ought to have been done on the Saturday; and the maid was obliged to leave the fire, which had been badly lighted, and could not be coaxed into a blaze. Mary saw that the kettle would not boil in time unless she took the bellows, while the cook dusted the parlour-furniture, and Anna brought up the bread and the eggs and the butter from the larder. When their father came down, he looked displeased to see them so employed, and wondered why, with two servants in the house, breakfast could not be prepared without so much confusion. After all, the kettle would not quite boil, so the tea was not fit to be drunk, nor the egg to be eaten; and there had been so much delay, that the horn sounded at the end of the street before Mr. Byerley had half finished breakfast. He stuffed his papers into his pockets; pulled on the boots for which he had waited till the last moment, and which were only half cleaned after all; pushed aside the umbrella which Anna offered him, with “Pshaw, child! where’s the ring? I can’t carry it unfastened in that manner;” kissed his daughters hastily, and ran off just in time to overtake the coach, which had been driven on in disregard of the maid’s protestations that her master was coming.
When she came back, she sat down to make a comfortable cup of tea for herself and the cook, while the young ladies finished the cool beverage in the parlour. They were not long in doing so; for they were eager about the schemes which were next to be undertaken. They heard John, the gardener, whetting his scythe; so they went first to see how the garden could be beautified. When they had ranged the walks with John, shaken their heads over the weedy pond, got their shoes thoroughly wet in the dewy, new-mown grass, and then thoroughly soiled on the flower-beds, they came in again, and mounted to the lumber-garret, leaving in the housemaid’s eyes very strong evidence where they had gone. She followed them with dry shoes, and found them trying to bring down, from a high shelf, a looking-glass which was placed with its face to the wall.