And over this new home, in answer, perhaps, to these good wishes, some benevolent brownie seemed already to preside; for when Mrs. Middleton unpacked her valuables, she found, stored away in cupboards, supposed, of course, to be entirely empty, such loaves of cake, and jars of butter, with preserves, pickles, eggs, et cætera, as to excite her astonishment in the highest degree; nor could any inquiries or surmises detect the mysterious donors; and the old lady, amid her sighs and bemoanings at their altered condition, could not but smile as she surveyed the kind remembrances; and Sophy, poor girl, would have smiled too, since she duly estimated the kind feelings which had induced them, but that she was too miserable for any thing to interest her now—so home-sick and lonely, that she cared for nothing, save the luxury of shedding tears, when she could steal away from her grandmother’s side, and, unobserved, weep over the change which had so suddenly befallen them.
But all this time, amid these adverse circumstances, where were Sophy’s admirers? Was she to find them only summer friends, who, like migratory birds, flew off in darker weather? Alas! it seemed too true. Once or twice after their removal Philip Greyson rode down to Mr. Middleton’s, and then Sophy resumed her smiles, and was happy; but his visits were few and far between, and she learned that a pretty girl in the midst of plenty and prosperity was very different from a pretty girl fallen in fortune, and obliged to perform all sorts of menial offices for her grand-parents. But Archie Harris, the companion of her childhood, surely he might have come to offer consolation, where he knew it was so much required. Was it altogether right in him to stand back under such circumstances? Sophy felt it was unkind, “unbrotherly,” as she mentally termed it, yet could scarcely blame him either, when she remembered their last conversation, the indifference she had evinced toward him, and the decided preference she had given to Philip; and while her heart smote her for this, she felt more inclined to forgive a coldness which she had herself so entirely provoked.
Our friend Archie, however, despite his seeming indifference, had not forgotten. He had been wounded to the quick by her preference for his rival; and the manner in which she appeared to rejoice that no previous troth-plight would prevent her accepting Philip, made him feel how little she valued true affection, when compared with a dashing exterior, or a greater share of personal beauty. “Let her go! the vain, cold-hearted girl!” he mentally ejaculated, as they parted on that eventful night. “Let her try if he can love her half so well as I do—as I have done,” he added more bitterly. “Fool that I was, to believe she ever cared for me. That conceited peacock! I wish—” and Archie, the best-tempered, kindest-hearted creature in the world, conceived from that moment such an unutterable dislike and contempt for all navy officers, and navy buttons, as to wish, in his awakened ire, that Philip Greyson was on the coast of Africa, or the deep waters of the Pacific.
But when misfortune came, Archie’s resentment at once gave way. Sophy was in sorrow, and he longed to go and assure her that his love was brighter than any skies could darken. But had she not rejected his love? Then why should he urge it now? Philip was still at Brookville, and might follow up the advantage he had gained; and Archie would not for the world have interposed his own wishes. Pride, therefore, more than anger, kept him back from any other attention than common civility required; and he resolved by every means in his power to drive away the remembrance of the past, and wait as calmly as he might the issue of future events.
While such was the state of affairs with Archie, Sophy Middleton, in her new home, was learning many valuable lessons, which, perhaps, she had never gained but for these untoward circumstances. Lessons of patience and submission, of industry, activity, and economy; and though she did not recover her usual flow of spirits, still, as the months rolled on, and her employments increased, a tolerable degree of cheerfulness returned also. She found pleasure in her garden-beds and flower-borders; pleasure in leading her good old grandfather about through the house and ground, making him familiar with every thing, and instructing him how to find his way, unaided, to the arm-chair in the porch; pleasure, too, in devising plans with her grandmother for the better arrangement of their little household, that pleasure which ever comes with the faithful discharge of duty; and if Sophy could not forget, if she still remembered Archie’s slighted love with bitter self-reproach, or Philip’s short-lived admiration with mortification and disdain, she was still calm, and patient, and resigned; less gay, perhaps, but not less loveable or lovely.
The first year of their misfortunes had passed away, and during that time Archie and our heroine had met but seldom, when the calm current of the blind man’s life was ruffled by the intelligence that Mr. Wilson had “sold out,” and the white cottage at Brookville gone into other hands.
That the beloved home of his early years, and of his married life, should belong to another, had always seemed to Samuel Middleton but as an unpleasant dream, from which he vainly tried to rouse himself, and believe that it was, indeed, a reality. He could not discern the changes around him, or miss the familiar objects which still lingered on his memory; and this news, communicated rather abruptly by his wife, on her return from a visit to Brookville, appeared to awaken all his past regrets, and remind him anew of other and happier days.
“Why did Wilson sell, I wonder?” he said. “Dear me, I’m very sorry for it. I’m afraid somebody may get there who will abuse the place.”
“It will make no difference to us now, grandfather,” said Sophy, quietly.
“I don’t know as to that,” replied the old gentleman, rather testily. “I don’t know as to that. Wouldn’t it make you feel badly, Sophy, to walk past there, and see every thing going to rack and ruin? And if I can’t see it, I can remember just how it all looked when we came away. If any one should cut down those two elm trees in front of the house, it would go nigh to break my heart, I think. Why, my father planted those elms with his own hands when I was a boy; and I do hope nobody will cut them down while I live.”