Englefield Grange Part 13

True, the seed so scattered is mixed with the tares which settlers in distant lands carry with them from Christian England to her shame. But, like the grain of mustard seed, Christianity will grow and flourish into a large tree wherever the seeds of the "kingdom of heaven" are sown, in spite of the tares.

In a large drawing-room, luxuriously furnished, and lighted by n.o.ble windows overlooking a broad street more than a mile long, reclined a pale, delicate-looking lady, about thirty-four years of age. Her sofa had been drawn near the open window, and as she gazed upon the gaily attired pa.s.sengers pa.s.sing to and fro on the broad pavements, or making purchases in the shops, she sighed deeply.

"What makes you sigh, mamma?" said a pretty little girl of nine years, who sat reading in a low chair by her mother's side.

"If I sighed, darling," she replied, "it was because this place reminds me of England, and I could almost fancy myself in that broad street in London that you have heard me speak of, Mabel."

"Regent Street, you mean, mamma. Yes, I know, for I've heard papa say Bourke Street reminded him of it. He says there are just the same sort of beautiful shops, and lots of carriages, and ladies and children so handsomely dressed. Oh, mamma, I should so like to go to England, and see grandpapa and grandmamma, and uncle Henry. Do you think we ever shall?"

"Perhaps _you_ may, my dear, but go on with your book, Mabel. I cannot bear talking."

The child gladly obeyed; she was a great lover of reading, and never more happy than when allowed to bring her book and her low chair, and sit near her mother, ready to attend to her every wish.

Mrs. Franklyn leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. Some recollections of England had during the past few months been very painful to her from their contrast to the present time.

She had left her home at Englefield Grange, and readily consented to what appeared a sentence of banishment to every one but herself, for was she not sure of happiness with the man of her choice, even at the other side of the world to which they were going?

None of her friends could deny the apparent suitability of the marriage between the young lawyer, Arthur Franklyn, and f.a.n.n.y Halford, the schoolmaster's only daughter. Arthur had been one of Dr. Halford's earliest pupils, and being an orphan and under the care of his aged grandmother, he often remained at school during the holidays. The boy soon became very fond of playing with the little f.a.n.n.y, then nine years younger than himself, and this childish acquaintance was kept up long after he had left school to be articled to a solicitor. The almost friendless youth paid frequent visits to his old schoolmaster, and was always received with a kind welcome.

To make f.a.n.n.y Halford his wife had been the purpose of Arthur Franklyn's heart for many years, but to mention the subject to her father until his means were sufficient to maintain a wife he well knew would be useless.

He had reached his twenty-ninth year, when the death of his grandmother made him the possessor of about fifteen hundred pounds. Now the way seemed open to him. But he had another scheme in view, which very nearly caused him the loss of f.a.n.n.y. Australia had for many years been the El Dorado of his hopes; he had also distant relatives doing well at Melbourne, who had often expressed a wish that he should join them, but f.a.n.n.y Halford had been the tie that bound him to England.

The little girl had learnt to love her boy playfellow in childhood as they grew older, and the young people, as if by mutual consent, seemed to take it for granted that some day they should be husband and wife.

Although no word had pa.s.sed on the subject either between them or to f.a.n.n.y's parents, Dr. Halford felt towards the young man almost as much affection as for his own son, Henry Halford being at that time a mere child. It was not till his grandmother's legacy had altered Arthur Franklyn's position that his eyes were opened to the fact that the young man and his daughter might be attached to each other.

The good old gentleman, however, when once brought to understand the case, readily agreed to Arthur's proposals; and Mrs. Halford, much as she dreaded the loss of her child from her home, raised no objections.

Her daughter would still of course be at a visiting distance now railways and omnibuses were becoming so general, and she could therefore often see her.

Arthur Franklyn's intimation, therefore, came upon them like a thunder-clap. "Australia! Our antipodes! No, no, Arthur, the idea is impossible, we cannot part with our child to such a distance," were the doctor's words. But neither the father's objections nor the mother's tears could influence f.a.n.n.y, she would go with Arthur all over the world; and so at last the parents were conquered by the pale face and failing health of their only daughter, and they consented to the marriage.

To Arthur's legacy was added the 1000_l._ saved by Dr. Halford for his daughter's marriage portion, and the young people sailed for Australia with their own hopes for the future bright and glowing, and followed by the earnest prayers of their reluctant parents.

Fourteen years have rolled by since then, and what are f.a.n.n.y Franklyn's reflections as she now reclines on the sofa in her luxurious home? What had she to complain of beyond the failing health and strength to which we are all liable? She had a kind and loving husband, four healthy, intelligent children, and every comfort and attention she required. But all this was on the surface; only wife or husband can detect faults in each other which are hidden from the world, unless those faults lead to or produce consequences which eventually become matters of publicity.

And a fear of this latter result had been the one bitter drop in f.a.n.n.y Franklyn's happiness, the bane of her married life.

Arthur on arriving at Melbourne established himself as a solicitor, and for a time with moderate success. Then he became restless and dissatisfied. He wanted to make a fortune more rapidly, gave up his profession, and commenced speculating. With this began f.a.n.n.y's anxieties. She had quickly discovered her husband's want of business knowledge. She could see how differently he acted from her own parents, to whose careful, saving habits she owed her marriage portion.

Fortunately for Arthur, his wife was thoroughly domestic, and more than once she had warded off an impending blow by her economy and good management.

But as their family increased her anxieties became greater. The very good nature, and pleasant unsuspecting sociability which had won them all at Englefield Grange, proved Arthur's greatest danger. Sanguine to the highest degree respecting the results of a new speculation, he would recklessly act upon the mere hope of success, and involve himself in difficulties, and so it had been going on; at times living in a style of elegance and luxury, in consequence of a successful speculation, and at others in obscurity and almost penury.

No wonder poor f.a.n.n.y Franklyn's health sunk in the midst of such vicissitudes.

While reflecting over the past which has been so briefly described, the sound of a hasty footstep roused her, and presently her husband stood by her couch anxiously questioning her.

"How are you, darling?" he said gently as he stooped to kiss the pale cheek. "I have been so much engaged all day, or I should have come in to see you before this." And then, without waiting for her to reply, he walked to the window and looked out on the gay and busy scene in the street beneath.

"You will soon get well in this lively place, f.a.n.n.y," he said; "I cannot tell you how anxious I have been to get you out of that dull cottage on the hills, with nothing to look at but gardens and fields and trees."

"Yes, but, papa," said little Mabel, rising from her seat and coming to his side, "we were close to the Botanical Gardens and the park, and mamma used to go out in a chair every day."

"Well, so she can here, Mabel, and I should think you and Clara like these large n.o.ble rooms better than those low ceilings and cramped apartments at the cottage."

"There are some rooms I should prefer far beyond those at the cottage, or even these," said Mrs. Franklyn, gently.

Mr. Franklyn smiled, and was delighted to see a smile and a slight tinge of colour on his wife's face as she spoke. "Where are they, darling?" he exclaimed. "I have only taken these for a month certain; we would move directly if I thought it would do you good."

"I'm sorry I expressed my thoughts aloud, Arthur," she said, "for you must not incur any farther expense; but the rooms I mean are at Englefield Grange."

Arthur Franklyn became silent. He was longing to return to England almost as much as his wife; but at that moment he had more than one speculation in view, which he felt sure would make him a rich man; and then to return to his native land and star it amongst his schoolfellows, who had often scorned the penniless orphan, would be indeed a triumph.

"I wish I could take you to England at once, dearest," said her husband; "indeed, I should like to send you and the two girls now, and remain here alone for a year or two; but I cannot allow you to attempt such a voyage in your present weak state."

"No, no, Arthur," she replied, "I will not leave you, I could not go alone. Let us continue in this house as long as you like, rather than go to greater expense. I hope I shall be better as the weather becomes cooler."

The appearance of the tea-tray put a stop to the conversation, and f.a.n.n.y consoled herself by the thought, "I cannot leave him of my own free-will, and if G.o.d sees fit to remove me before he is able to return to England, I can leave him and the dear children in His hands."

CHAPTER XII.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

Mary Armstrong returned home after leaving Freddy at school, quite unaware of the disturbance her appearance had created in the mind of Henry Halford; and indeed so perfectly indifferent, that after removing her walking dress she entered the dining-room where her mother sat, and said--

"I did not see Dr. Halford, mamma, he was engaged in the schoolroom, but his son took charge of Freddy."

"His son! Ah, yes, I remember he spoke of a son who was studying for the Church. From Dr. Halford's description I should say this son was a man of very studious habits."

"Yes, mamma, and I am sure he must be, for he appears quite unused to the society of ladies; he hesitated, and stammered, and seemed hardly able to say a word: he did manage, however, to explain that he expected to see Mrs. Armstrong. I set him down as a bookworm at once."

Mrs. Armstrong glanced at her daughter; she was not one of those foolish mothers who overrate the charms of their daughters, but a thought she could not repress made her fear that this son of Dr. Halford's might be a dangerous acquaintance. A kind of presentiment of evil made her look at Mary intently as she took her German books from a side-table and commenced studying the language just then coming into vogue.

There was a look of perfect indifference on the face which Mrs.

Armstrong so carefully studied, and yet she could not help saying suddenly, "What sort of young man is Dr. Halford's son in appearance, Mary?"

The sound of her mother's voice made Mary look up with a start from a difficult exercise. "_Haben sie!_" she exclaimed aloud; and then, "Oh, mamma, I beg your pardon, did you not ask me a question? I have such a puzzling sentence here, and I quite forgot what Herr Kling told me about it."

"It was nothing of importance, my dear," said her mother, as carelessly as she could speak; "I only asked you what sort of a young man Dr.

Halford's son is in appearance."

"Handsome or plain, you mean, mamma," was the reply: "certainly not handsome, and his hair looked as if, while poring over a book, he had been pushing it up with his hands till it stood on end like p.u.s.s.y's tail when she is angry."

"My dear, what a comparison!" said her mother, with a laugh and a feeling of satisfaction. But Mary felt ashamed of her description.

"I ought not to speak in this way, mamma, I know; the fact is, when I found young Mr. Halford so confused, I avoided looking at him; but he is a gentleman, I could see that, and his hair is black. He appeared to be careless about his dress and appearance, and that, added to his confused manner, made me think he was a bookworm. You know, mamma, two or three of papa's friends who are so wrapped up in science and literature fidget me dreadfully when they dine here. Mr. Barnett, the great engineer, often has his collar on one side, or a b.u.t.ton off his boots, and they all look as if they dressed in the dark, and without a looking-gla.s.s. So I suppose young Mr. Halford will be just the same. Oh, mamma, please don't make me talk any more," she added, glancing at the clock. "Herr Kling will be here in half an hour, and I am not yet ready for him."