“So says Shakespeare, and so say I.—Then they took to abusing Amos again; so I just told them that I had found by experience that my brother’s advice and opinion were worth taking, and that I had no wish to hear him cried down unless they could show that he was wrong. Well, you may suppose that we soon found out that our horses wanted to go different ways; so we raised our hats to one another and took leave, and thus ended the partnership of Huntingdon, Gregson, and Saunders.”
There was silence for a while, during which the hands of the two brothers were clasped tightly in each other. At last Miss Huntingdon said, “Now, dear Walter, you may make your laurel crown whenever you please, and I shall be only too happy to place it myself on your head—yes, the crown fairly won by an act of true and lofty moral courage.”
Chapter Eighteen.
A few Backward Steps.
A year slipped rapidly by after the return of Julia Vivian to her home. Her unhappy husband had not shown himself anywhere in the neighbourhood, nor had he sent her a single letter. She herself gradually recovered her once lively spirits, and scattered much brightness round her. Miss Huntingdon would have retired, and left her to take the management of her father’s household, but she implored her not to do so; and as Mr Huntingdon himself evidently preferred that his sister should keep her usual position in the family, at any rate for the present, she consented, hoping that the united influence of Amos and herself might be the means, under God, of bringing Julia and Walter to take a decided stand on the Lord’s side.
So far, Walter was manifestly anxious to do what was right and to support his elder brother in his endeavours to bring a holy peace into the household. But his good intentions were often thwarted by his natural self-esteem. As for Julia, she was by no means prepared to see things in the same light that Amos did. Naturally high-spirited and self-willed, her troubles had rather bent her down for a while than in any degree permanently improved her character,—for there never was a truer remark than that of an old writer when he says, “Circumstances do not make us what we are, they rather show what we are.” And now that one of her heaviest burdens was gone, she was very reluctant to curb her temper or give up her own will when to Amos it was her plain duty to do so. Self was none the less her idol because much of the gilding with which it had been adorned in happier days had been rudely rasped from it. She wished to please Amos, but she wished to please herself more. And whenever Amos’s views and those of Walter did not quite coincide, she always took side with the younger brother. Amos saw this, of course, but he was willing to bide his time. One part of his great object had been accomplished,—his sister had been restored to her old home and to her father’s heart.
Mr Huntingdon, of course, never alluded to the past, and took great delight in his grandchildren, who were left pretty much to the care and training of an excellent servant whom Amos had chosen for them by his father’s desire, and also to the loving and wise instructions of Miss Huntingdon; for their mother professed that she had not yet recovered health and energy sufficient to enable her to look after them herself. Amos saw this with regret, and wished that his sister could take a right view of her duty in the matter. At the same time he felt sure that the day had not yet come for making any attempt to bring his mother home again. He must defer this his cherished hope and purpose till his sister should have come to a different and better mind. For as she recovered herself, which she soon did, from the effects of her late life of trial and privation, Julia Vivian gave herself up almost entirely to reading amusing books, fishing, riding, and making one in any little party of pleasure which could be got up for her. She saw her children just for a few minutes night and morning, but evidently felt it rather a distasteful toil than a pleasure if anything obliged her now and then to give them a little extra attention. Indeed, she seemed to have got the idea firmly fixed in her mind that she was now to get all the enjoyment she could to make up for past years of trouble, and that the main business of her two brothers was to provide for her comfort and entertainment. And very charming she could make herself when her own tastes and whims were gratified, but anything like thwarting or opposition produced in her at once gloom and irritation. For her father’s sake and the credit of the family she abstained from showing herself at large parties and entertainments where many of the guests would know a good deal about her past history; but whenever she could join in a bit of excitement without bringing herself into notice, she was wild to avail herself of the opportunity, and would not let children or home be any hindrance if she could possibly help it.
Summer had arrived, when one morning the post brought Mr Huntingdon a huge bill printed in letters of various shapes, colours, and sizes, from which it appeared that “the wonderful acrobat, Signor Giovani Telitetti, of world-wide celebrity, would exhibit some marvellous feats, to conclude with a dance on the high rope.” The entertainment was to be given in a park situate in the next county, about ten miles distant from Flixworth Manor.