Janet's Love and Service

by Margaret M. Robertson

But this is a digression, and I daresay there are many who will not agree with all this. Indeed, I am not sure that I quite agree with all my friend said on this subject, myself. There are many ways of looking at the same thing, and if all were said that might be said about it, it would appear that an incapacity on the part of the wife to share, or at least to sympathise with all the hopes, pursuits, and pleasures of her husband, causes bitter pain to both; certainly, he who cannot assure himself of the sympathy of the woman he loves, when he would pass beyond the daily routine of domestic duties and pleasures, fails of obtaining the highest kind of domestic happiness.

Charlie Millar’s private announcement to his friend Harry of his brother Arthur’s engagement, was in these words:

“The efforts of the maternal Grove have been crowned with success. Your brother is a captive soon to be chained—”

Charlie was right. His clear eye saw, that of which Arthur himself remained in happy unconsciousness. And what Charlie saw other people saw also, though why the wise lady should let slip through her expert fingers the wealthy Mr Green, the great Western merchant, and close them so firmly on the comparatively poor and obscure young lawyer, was a circumstance that could not so easily be understood. Had the interesting fact transpired, that the great Elias had not so much slipped through her fingers, as, to use his own forcible and elegant language, “wriggled himself clear,” it might have been satisfactory to the world in general. But Mr Green was far-away intent on more important matters, on the valuation and disposal of fabulous quantities of pork and wheat, and it is not to be supposed that so prudent a general as Mrs Grove would be in haste to proclaim her own defeat. She acted a wiser part; she took the best measures for covering it.

When the pretty Fanny showed an inclination to console herself for the defection of her wealthy admirer by making the most of the small attentions of the handsome young lawyer, her mamma graciously smiled approval. Fanny might do better she thought, but then she might do worse. Mr Elliott was by no means Mr Green’s equal in the great essentials of wealth won, and wealth in prospect, still he was a rising man as all might see; quite presentable, with no considerable connections,—except perhaps his sisters, who could easily be disposed of. And then Fanny, though very pretty, was “a silly little thing,” she said to herself with great candour. Her beauty was not of a kind to increase with years, or even to continue long. The chances were, if she did not go off at once, she would stay too long. Then there were her sisters growing up so fast, mamma’s own darlings; Charlotte twelve and Victoria seven, were really quite tall and mature for their years, and at any rate, it would be a relief to have Fanny well away.

And so the unsuspecting youth enjoyed many a drive in the Grove carriage, and ate many a dinner in the Grove mansion, and roamed with the fair Fanny by daylight and by moonlight among the flowers and fruits of the Grove gardens, during the three months that his brother and sisters passed at the seaside. He made one of many a pleasant driving or riding party. There were picnics at which his presence was claimed in various places. Not the cumbrous affairs which called into requisition all the baskets, and boxes, and available conveyances of the invited guests—parties of which the aim seems to be, to collect in one favoured spot in the country, all the luxuries, and airs, and graces of the town—but little impromptu efforts in the same direction in which Mrs Grove had all the trouble, and her guests all the pleasure. Very charming little fêtes her guests generally pronounced them to be. Arthur enjoyed them vastly, and all the more that it never entered into his head, that he was in a measure the occasion of them all. He enjoyed the companionship of pleasant people, brought together in those pleasant circumstances. He enjoyed the sight of the green earth, and the blue water, the sound of the summer winds among the hills, the songs of birds amid rustling leaves and waving boughs, until he came to enjoy, at last the guardianship of the fair Fanny, generally his on those occasions; and to associate her pretty face and light laughter with his enjoyment of all those pleasant things.

Everything went on naturally and quietly. There was no open throwing them together to excite speculation in the minds of beholders, or uncomfortable misgivings in the minds of those chiefly concerned. Quite the contrary. If any watchful fairy had suggested to Arthur the possibility of such a web, as the skillful mamma was weaving around him, he would have laughed at the idea as the suggestion of a very ill-natured, evil-minded sprite indeed. Did not mamma keep watchful eyes on Fanny always? Had she not many and many a time, interrupted little confidences on the part of the young lady, at the recollection of which he was sometimes inclined to smile? Had she not at all times, and in all places, acted the part of a prudent mamma to her pretty step-daughter, and of a considerate hostess to him, her unworthy guest?

And if the fairy, in self-justification, had ventured further to insinuate, that there is more than one kind of prudence, and that the prudence of Mrs Grove was of another and higher kind, than a simple youth could be supposed to comprehend, his enlightenment might not yet have been accomplished. If it had been averred that mamma’s faith, in her daughter’s tact and conversational powers was not sufficient to permit her to allow them to be too severely tried, he might have paused to recall her little airs and gestures, and to weigh the airy nothings from those pretty lips, and he could not but have acknowledged that mamma’s faithlessness was not surprising. As to the ultimate success of the sprite in opening his eyes, or in breaking the invisible meshes which were meant to hold the victim fast, that is quite another matter.

But there was no fairy, good or bad, to mingle in their affairs, and they flowed smoothly on, to the content of all concerned, till Graeme came home from Cacouna, to play, in Mrs Grove’s opinion, the part of a very bad fairy indeed. She was mistaken, however. Graeme took no part in the matter, either to make or to mar. Even had she been made aware of all the possibilities that might arise out of her brother’s short intimacy with the Groves, she never could have regarded the matter as one in which she had a right to interfere. So, if there came a pause in the lady’s operations, if Arthur was more seldom one of their party, even when special pains had been taken to secure him, it was owing to no efforts of Graeme. If he began to settle down into the old quiet home life, it was because the life suited him; and Graeme’s influence was exerted and felt, only as it had ever been in a silent, sweet, sisterly fashion, with no reference to Mrs Grove, or her schemes.

But that there came a pause in the effective operations of that clever lady, soon became evident to herself. She could not conceal from herself or Miss Fanny, that the beckonings from the carriage window were not so quickly seen, or so promptly responded to as of old. Not that this defection on Arthur’s part was ever discussed between them. Mrs Grove had not sufficient confidence in her daughter to admit of this. Fanny was not reliable, mamma felt. Indeed, she was very soon taking consolation in the admiration excited by a pair of shining epaulets, which began about this time to gleam with considerable frequency in their neighbourhood. But mamma did not believe in officers, at least matrimonially speaking, and as to the consolation to be derived from a new flirtation, it was but doubtful and transitory at the best. Besides she fancied that Mr Elliott’s attentions had been observed, and she was quite sure that his defection would be so, too. Two failures succeeding each other so rapidly, would lay her skill open to question, and “mar dear Fanny’s prospects.”