Mabel: A Novel. Vol. 1 (of 3)

by Mrs. C. J. Newby

The spot where old John was most certain to be found, was just in the middle of the garden, where he had enclosed a small piece of ground by a high and closely clipped yew hedge, to keep out the wind. In this small enclosure, were two or three hot-beds, with cucumbers, melons, or some very early radishes, or cress under glass frames. He had always something to do round these beds, the matting covers were to be put on or taken off, and the glasses opened a little more, and more, as the day advanced, and then, of course, to be closed again, by degrees, towards evening. If any one touched them but himself, he looked as if his whole crop must inevitably be spoilt; but the secret might have been, that, he had always some little surprise to bring out of them, such as a cucumber ten days earlier than could have been expected; or some mustard and cress, before any one else thought of planting any, which, of course, was not to be seen till quite ready for the table.

There was an appearance about the inside of the house, as well as of the garden, as if a great deal of money had been spent upon it formerly, for there were many solid and ornamental comforts in both, which might have been dispensed with if required.

The drawing-room, though small, was substantially and elegantly furnished, though old fashioned; every thing in the room too bore the evidence of refined habits, but nothing told of any present expenditure. Such as it had been ten years before, it very much remained now. The dining-room and usual sitting-room, had much of the same appearance though it did not give quite the same reflective, feeling—ladies' work, and a child's playthings, gave life and animation to it.

Colonel Lesly had lived here for many years since his retirement from the army, having lost a leg during the Peninsular war, where he had served as a brave officer, and only retired from the service when unable to be of further use to it. On his return to England, he, with his wife and child, settled in his native county—and fixed on this cottage for his residence. His wife was most sincerely attached to him, and her society with that of their daughter Mabel, made him scarcely regret, being obliged so soon to retire from a profession so well adapted to his tastes. He had been fond of reading, when a boy, and had not neglected the opportunities presented by his wandering abroad, to cultivate his taste for general information. One of his chief pleasures soon became that of teaching his little Mabel all he knew, and her intelligent questions often led him to take an interest in subjects he might otherwise have neglected.

Since their settling at Aston, Colonel and Mrs. Lesly had had several children, who had all died in infancy, still leaving Mabel as the only object of parental love; fondly did her father guard the young girl's mind, growing in intelligence, and beauty, whilst her speaking features lighted up with smiles whenever he came near. Proudly did he watch her as each year gave her something more soft, more touching, more womanly; and earnestly did he hope that life would be spared him to guide aright a mind of such firmness and power, joined to feelings so warm and eager, that it seemed to him a question which would have the ascendancy, heart or mind. But that wish was not to be granted, and Mabel's first real sorrow, was her father's death. He had gone on a short visit to London, upon some urgent business, and had there taken the typhus fever, which made its appearance soon after his return home, and, acting on an enfeebled constitution, carried him to his grave, after a short illness. A few days after his death, Mabel's youngest sister was born. It was, indeed, to a house of sorrow and mourning, that the little child came, for her mother's constitution never recovered the shock she had sustained in the loss of one, not only most dear, but on whom she had become almost wholly dependent.

It was then that Mabel felt the benefit of her father's lessons so firmly impressed on her mind, and resolved to act as she believed he would have led her to do, could he have been allowed the power of guiding her still. So severely did her mother feel the loss she had sustained, both in health and spirits, that she rather required support herself than felt able to afford it to those dependent on her; Mabel, therefore, soon felt the necessity of exerting herself, as all the family responsibilities seemed left entirely to her care.

As soon then as she could at all recover from the blow occasioned by her father's death, she applied herself to the management of their now reduced income, and busied herself in cutting off all the expenses which the Colonel's liberal habits had rendered almost necessary to his happiness, but which were now quite beyond their means.

In the course of her enquiries, she had no greater opponent than old John; he first insisted that he himself was quite indispensable to the arrangements of the family; and when he had gained that point, he was equally obstinate about the carriage and ponies. But Mabel had the advantage in that particular, at least; the old gardener was left in quiet possession—but the coach-house and stable were shut up—and after many a battle with their old friend, everything else that could be dispensed with, was cut off, till the expenditure was reduced to something within their income. John pined and fretted, but his young mistress had such a winning way, he could not keep his ill-humour long. He had declared, during one of his contests, that she never could be happy without the pretty pony which had carried her up and down the hills so often; but he was obliged to give up the point, when he saw the delight with which she carried her infant sister in her arms and danced her in the sunshine, with half a mother's hope and pride, as if she wanted nothing more to make her perfectly happy.

Sometimes, when the child grew older, she would take her to gather the yellow cress, or the cowslip, and watch her trembling steps with the most careful attention, or lead her to the church-yard, and there, seated on their father's tomb, give her her first lesson in eternal things. And then they would return together to cheer their mother's solitude, and try to divert her from her never ceasing regrets; and thus years passed by, and if sorrow laid again its heavy hand on Mabel's brow, resignation had followed to smooth away its lines, and leave it soft and gentle as before.