Englefield Grange; or, Mary Armstrong's Troubles

by Mrs. H. B. Paull

It must be owned he opened the door rather reluctantly, but it was to start with surprise, and for a few moments to lose all self-possession. A young, handsome, and elegant girl rose as he entered, and bowed also with slight confusion. Her mother had described Dr. Halford as a tall, pale, intellectual-looking man of sixty, with white hair and a slight stoop. Who then could this be, with his erect bearing and youthful face? Mary Armstrong could not control the deep blush that rose to her cheek, but she quickly recovered her self-possession. Mary had been subject to too many contrasts in life and was too really well-bred to allow of any awkwardness. She took Freddy's hand and led him forward as she said, "I have brought my little brother, Frederick Armstrong, to school; he did not like to come alone on the first morning, and mamma was not well enough to bring him herself."

Henry Halford by this time had also recovered himself to a certain degree as he stammered out—

"I will tell my father, Miss Armstrong; he is in the schoolroom at present. He asked me to see—I thought Mrs. Armstrong——" and then remembering his father's fear of being detained by that lady, and of his own dread of her in consequence, he paused in helpless confusion. Woman-like, this hesitation gave Mary courage. She could scarcely repress a smile as the young man's words explained unintentionally the cause of his evident surprise. He had expected a middle-aged lady, her mother, instead of a young girl. Perhaps this was the studious son spoken of by Dr. Halford to her mother. Bookworms were always awkward in the company of ladies, especially young ones; and as these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, she said with her accustomed ease and dignity—for Mary Armstrong could be dignified at times—"I need not detain you, Mr. Halford, if you will kindly take my little brother to the schoolroom and explain to Dr. Halford why mamma could not bring him herself."

"Certainly, Miss Armstrong," was all he could say, as he opened the door and followed her with Freddy downstairs to the entrance.

When they reached the door he opened it for her to pass out.

"Be a good boy, Freddy," she said, as she stooped to kiss her brother, then she bowed to Henry Halford and descended the steps. On the gravel path she turned to give Freddy one more encouraging look. Henry Halford still stood at the open door, holding Freddy's hand in a firm clasp. Of course she could only bow to him again, but as she passed through the gate into the high road she reflected that this young man who held the child's hand so kindly would no doubt be kind to their little Freddy.

But of the thoughts which had been passing through Henry Halford's mind during that short interview Mary Armstrong was quite unsuspecting; neither had she the least idea that he stood at the open door watching her for some minutes, to Freddy's surprise, and until a movement of the child recalled him to the duties of the hour.

Hastily taking Freddy to the schoolroom and telling his father the child's name, he brought his mind to bear upon the duties of his class with his usual power of concentration. No sooner, however, had morning school closed than he retired to his own little sanctum, but not to his usual studies. A new object of study was occupying his mind, and he threw himself into his chair, and folding his arms, thought over again his adventure of the morning. How clearly every movement, every look, even every article of dress worn by the visitor was photographed on his memory! He could see again the tall graceful figure, the fair expressive face, the large blue eyes, the bright auburn hair, one or two locks as usual escaping under the hat.

He recalled the blush which added brilliance to the face, and knew that in action, word, and movement the young girl before him was a true gentlewoman. Even the dress, so suitable to the season and the hour, showed this—warm and dark and soft, only brightened by an ermine muff and furs, and red ribbons in the hat. And the boy too, young as he was, had more of the savoir faire about him than many of the sons of rich merchants who attended the school, and yet the father of these young people was a tradesman. Henry Halford was puzzled. He had been brought up with the foolish prejudice against trade then so prevalent. Both his parents had been well born and were well connected. His father's sister had married into a good family, although, like many of these old families, they had little to boast of in the way of money. And then the young student grew bewildered. Hitherto his books had so occupied every thought that any idea of falling in love had never entered his mind. Perhaps he had too much poetry and imagination in his heart connected with the subject of marriage to allow him to do so easily. In him there existed a refined and spiritualised sense of what a woman should be in the different phases of her existence, as daughter, sister, wife, and mother. Marriage to him was too holy, and the pure love of a woman too ethereal, for either to be trifled with, or made the means of merely obtaining a home or a settlement.

As he thus reflected he began to wonder that the mere meeting with a stranger could arouse in his mind such thoughts as these. Henry Halford had certainly never given the subject such deep consideration before in his life as now. He had met with many young ladies, sisters or relations of the boys under his father's care, and also among his own relations; but none had ever so struck him as Miss Armstrong. What and how did she differ from others? Most certainly there was something about her he could not define.