He is taking them from me, and giving them over to that woman--that bad, low, cunning woman!"
"Stop!" cried Dr. Grey. "One word more like that, and I _will_ turn you out of my house--ay, this very night!"
There was a dead pause. Even Miss Gascoigne was frightened.
Christian, who had never in all her life witnessed such a scene, wished she had done any thing--borne any thing, rather than have given cause for it. And yet the children! Looking at that furious woman, she felt-- any observer would have felt--that to leave children in Miss Gascoigne"s power was to ruin them for life. No; what must be done had better be done now than when too late. Yet her heart failed her at sight of poor Aunt Maria"s sobs.
"Oh, dear Arnold, what is the matter? You haven"t been vexing Henrietta? But you never vex any body, you are so good. Dear Henrietta, are we really to go back to our own house at Avonside?
Well, I don"t mind. It is a pretty house, far more cheerful than the Lodge; and our tenants are just leaving, and they have kept the furniture in the best of order--the nice furniture that dear Arnold gave us, you know. Even if he does want us to leave the Lodge, it is quite natural. I always said so. And we shall only be a mile away, and can have the children to spend long days with us, and--"
Simple Aunt Maria, in her hasty jumping at conclusions, had effected more than she thought of--more harm and more good.
"I a.s.sure you, Maria," said Dr. Grey with a look of sudden relief, which he tried hard--good man!--to conceal, "it never was my intention to suggest your leaving but since you have suggested it--"
"I will go," interrupted Miss Gascoigne. "Say not another word; we will go. I will not stay to be insulted here; I will return to my own house--my own poor humble cottage, where at least I can live independent and at peace--yes, Dr. Grey, I will, however you may try to prevent me."
"I do not prevent you. On the contrary, I consider it would be an excellent plan, and you have my full consent to execute it whenever you choose."
This quiet taking of her at her word--this brief, determined, and masculine manner of settling what she had no intention of doing unless driven to it through a series of feminine arguments, contentions, and storms, was quite too much for Miss Gascoigne.
"Go back to Avonside Cottage! Shut myself up in that poor miserable hole--"
"Oh, Henrietta!" expostulated Aunt Maria, "when it is so nicely furnished--with the pretty little green-house that dear Arnold built for us too!"
"Don"t tell me of green-houses! I say it is only a hole. And I to settle down in it--to exile myself from Avonsbridge society, that Mrs. Grey may rule here, and boast that she has driven me out of the field--me, the last living relative of your dear lost wife, to say nothing of poor Maria, your excellent sister to whom you owe so much--"
"Oh, Henrietta!" pleaded Miss Grey once more. "Never mind her, dear, dear Arnold."
Dr. Grey looked terribly hurt, but he and Aunt Maria exchanged one glance and one long hand-clasp. Whatever debt there was between the brother and sister, love had long since canceled it all.
"Pacify her, Maria--you know you can. Make her think better of all this nonsense. My wife and my sisters could never be rivals; it is ridiculous to suppose such a thing. But, indeed, I believe we should all be much better friends if you were in your own house at Avonside."
"I think so, too," whispered Aunt Maria. "I have thought so ever so long."
"Then it is settled," replied Dr. Grey, in the mild way in which he did sometimes settle things, and after which you might just as well attempt to move him as to move the foundations of St. Bede"s.
It was all so sudden, this total domestic revolution, which yet every body inwardly recognized as a great relief, that for a minute or two n.o.body found a word more to say, until Miss Gascoigne, who generally had both the first word and the last, broke out again.
"Yes, you have done it, and it shall never be undone, however you may live to repent it. Dr. Grey, I quit your house, shaking the dust off my feet: see that it does not rise up in judgment against you. Maria--my poor Maria--your own brother may forsake you, but I never will. We go away together--tomorrow."
"Not tomorrow," said Dr. Grey. "Your tenants have only just left, and we must have the cottage made comfortable for you. Let me see, this is the 8th; suppose we settle that you leave on the 20th of June. Will that do, Maria?"
As he spoke he took her little fat hand, patted it lovingly, and then kissed her.
"You"ll not be unhappy, sister? You know it is only going back to the old ways, and to the old country life, which you always liked much better than this."
"Much--much better. You are quite right, as you always are, dear Arnold,"
This was said in a whisper, but Miss Gascoigne caught it.
"Ah! yes, I see what you are doing--stealing from me the only heart that loves me--persuading her to stay behind. Very well. Do it, Maria.
Remain with your brother and your brother"s wife. Forget me, who am nothing to any body--of no use to one creature living."
Poor woman without meaning it, she had hit upon something very near the truth. It always is so--always must be. People win what they earn; those who sow the wind reap the whirlwind. Handsome, clever, showy, and admired, as she had been in her day, probably not one living soul did now care for Henrietta Gascoigne except foolish, faithful Aunt Maria.
And yet there must have been some good in her, something worth caring for, even to retain that affection, weak and submissive as it may have been. Christian"s heart smote her as if she herself had been guilty of injustice toward Miss Gascoigne when she saw Miss Grey creep up to her old friend, the tears flowing like a mill-stream.
"No, dear, I shall not stay behind. Arnold doesn"t want me. And I have always put up with you somehow--I mean, you have put with me--we shall manage to do it still. We"ll live together again, as we did for so many years, in our pretty cottage and garden that dear Arnold gave us, and I will look after my poultry, and you shall do your visiting. Yes, dear Henrietta, it will be all for the best. We shall be so independent, so happy."
Happy! It was not a word in Miss Gascoigne"s dictionary. But she looked with a certain tenderness at the fond little woman who had loved her, borne with her, never in the smallest degree resisted her since they were girls together. It was a strange tie, perhaps finding its origin in something deeper than itself--in that dead captain, whose old- fashioned miniature still lay in poor Maria"s drawer--the fierce, handsome face, proving that, had he lived, he might have been as great a tyrant over her as his sister Henrietta. Still, however it arose, the bond was there, and nothing but death could ever break it between these two lonely women.
"Come, then, Maria, we shall share our last crust together. You, at least, have never wronged me. Come away."
Gathering her dress about her with a tragical air, and plucking it, as she pa.s.sed Mrs. Grey, as though the possible touch were pollution, Aunt Henrietta swept from the room; Aunt Maria, after one deprecatory look behind, as if to say, "You see I can"t do otherwise," slowly following.
And so it was all over--safely over--this great change, which, however longed for, had not been contemplated as a possibility one hour before.
It had arranged itself out of the most trivial elements, as great events often do. There could be no question that every body felt it to be the best thing, and every body was thankful; and yet Christian watched her husband with a little uncertainty until she heard him heave a sigh of relief.
"Yes, I am sure it was right to be done, and I am glad it is done. Are not you, Christian?"
"Oh, so glad! I hope it is not wicked in me, but I am so glad!"
"Why--to have me all to yourself?" said he, smiling at her energy.
A strange, unwonted thrill ran through Christian"s heart as she recognized, beyond possibility of doubt, that this was the secret source of her delight--of the feeling as if a new existence were opening before her--as if the heavy weight which had oppressed her were taken off, and she could move through those old gloomy rooms, which had once struck a chill through her whole being, with a sense as if she were as light as air, and as merry as a bird in the spring.
To have the Lodge made into a real home--a home altogether her own-- and emptied of all but those who were really her own, with a glad welcome for any visitors, but still only as visitors, coming and going, and never permanently interfering with the sweet, narrow circle of the family fireside; to be really mistress in her own house; to have her time to herself; to spend long mornings with the children; long evenings alone with her husband, even if he sat for hours poring over his big books and did not speak a word--oh, how delicious it would be!
"Yes, all to myself--I"ll have you all to myself," she murmured, as she put her arms round his neck, and looked right up into his eyes. For the first time she was sure--quite sure that she loved him. And as she stood embraced, encircled and protected by his love, and thought of her peaceful life now and to come, full of duties, blessings, and delights, ay, though it had also no lack of cares. Christian felt sorry--oh, so infinitely sorry for poor Aunt Henrietta.
Chapter 12.
_"Weave, weave, weave, The tiniest thread will do; The filmiest thread from a spider"s bed Is stout enough for you._
_"Twist, twist, twist, With fingers dainty and small; Let the wily net be quietly set, That the innocent may fall."_
Arthur never got his thrashing. The serious results, of which he had been the primary cause, for a while put his naughtiness out of every body"s head; and when, after an hour or more, Christian went up stairs, and found the poor little fellow waiting patiently and obediently in mother"s bedroom, it seemed rather hard to punish him.
She went down again into the study, and had a long talk with her husband, in which she spoke her mind very freely--more freely than she had ever done before, and told him things which had come to her knowledge concerning the children of which he, poor man! had hitherto been kept in total ignorance.
Thus taking counsel together, the father and mother decided that, except in very rare instances, corporal punishment should be entirely abolished, and never, under any circ.u.mstances, should be administered by Phillis. That Phillis"s sway was to be narrowed as much as possible, without any absolute laws being made that would wound her feelings, or show indifference to her long fidelity.
"For," said Dr. Grey, "we must not forget, Christian, that she loved the children when they had not quite so much love as they have now."
No, Arthur was not thrashed--was promised faithfully that Phillis should never be allowed to thrash him any more; but his step-mother made him write the meekest, humblest letter of apology to his Aunt Henrietta, which that lady returned unanswered. This, however, as Christian took some pains to explain to him, was a matter of secondary consequence. Whatever she did, he had done only what was his duty.
And he was enjoined, when they did meet, to address her politely and respectfully, as a nephew and a gentleman should--as his father always addressed her, even in answer to those sharp speeches which, though in his children"s presence, Miss Gascoigne continually let fall.