Mrs. Dorriman Volume I Part 12

Between a spoiled undisciplined nature like that of Grace Rivers, and a character whose salient feature was love of power, such as Mr. Sandford possessed, it was impossible for the constant a.s.sociation to go without friction. Margaret was in a state of perpetual alarm, giving her sister right always, from habit and unreasoning affection, and therefore no real use to her, and the first day Mrs. Dorriman found herself able to take up her round of daily duties, she found Grace, not Margaret, waiting to speak to her, Grace in a state of excitement she did not try to repress, who plunged into the subject of her troubles with an abandonment and vehemence which went far to frighten the gentle little woman, who was expected to console, and understand, and sympathise all in a breath, at a moment's notice.

"Your brother hates me, why does he have us here?" Grace began; "it is cruel! Why does he not let us go where at any rate we might be free and lead our own lives, Margaret and I."

She paced up and down, her hands clasped before her, an angry flush upon her face--pausing every now and again to look at Mrs. Dorriman whose delicate forehead was ruffled, and whose att.i.tude spoke of weariness.

"Has any thing happened? What is the matter? What has gone wrong?" Her voice sounded cold and unsympathetic to Grace's ears. It acted like a drop of cold water on heated iron.

"Of course you don't care," she burst out with, "you care for nothing; nothing seems to move you; nothing rouses you; but can you not see my sister and I are miserable and wretched?"

"Grace," said the elder woman, and her voice was full of real kindness, "would you mind sitting down, it tries me sorely to see you dashing about this way, and--I'm not very strong just now. I have had a good deal of fatigue lately."

"I am sorry," the girl said in somewhat a hard tone, throwing herself into a chair, feeling that all she had to say was more difficult to say when she was deprived of her manner of saying it.

"Let us talk it all out, Grace; all the bitterness, all the disappointment, everything that is making you wretched. What is it you wish to do? What is it particularly you complain of?"

"Mr. Sandford is so unkind: he speaks so harshly to me. I know he hates me."

"And you have tried to win his affection, you have done all on your side to make him like you?"

"I know it is no use. And he does not appreciate me in any way."

"Appreciate you?"

"At school I was always first and everyone knew I was clever--since--and--here he takes no notice. If he dislikes us, why must we live here, why may we not go?" Grace persisted, anxious to cling to her point and gain it.

"I am afraid you have never quite understood your position, Grace; that you really know nothing about it; and if I explain it to you you will perhaps be very angry."

"I think I understand our position," said Grace, with a slight toss of the head, "we are his wards, Margaret and I; he is our guardian."

"You are quite wrong, Grace; he is nothing of the sort."

"Then why does he arrange for us? I was always told he was our guardian," and Grace opened her eyes wide, and looked at Mrs. Dorriman, surprised out of her usual self-a.s.sertion.

"You know he, my brother, is in no way related to you, except by marriage?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"When your mother died--your father being long dead, poor child--there was nearly nothing----" Mrs. Dorriman hesitated. It seemed so hard to tell this girl what she had to tell her.

"Nothing! but we have an income, Grace and I?"

"You have a small income, because my brother gave up his wife's, your aunt's, little fortune, and added to the little, the very little, there was, and managing it skilfully--there is as you say a little income, but Grace, my dear child, do you suppose that such an income would enable you two to live in any comfort as you have been accustomed to live?

There is little over one hundred a year."

"Is that all?" asked Grace, her face crimson; "we thought that was only an allowance out of our money, we never dreamt there was nothing else.

You are quite sure?" she asked, her face paling again; she felt this a blow she could never recover from.

"My brother welcomes you to his house, he makes me give up my pretty and quiet home to come and be here so that all should go well. He has a rough and a hard manner, but to you, Grace, he has been good, to you and Margaret he has been very generous."

"Is this really the truth?" asked Grace; "do you mean to say that we have nothing, Margaret and I, and we are not his relations? Why, why has he done this? He does not care for us. What is his motive?"

"He cared for your mother's sister, Grace. He loved his wife with a pa.s.sionate affection time has not changed. Her anxiety was about you, left to the world's mercy. Is it fair to him that his kindness should be met with scorn, and that, owing him what you do, you should take exception to his manner and defy him openly?"

Grace was silent, kept silent by surprise and by a pa.s.sionate and impatient remonstrance against the position she was placed in. It was intolerable to her to have this weight of obligation with no affection to lighten it.

"He weighs us down with the sense of obligation," she said at length; "if he were really generous he would make the load lighter."

"He is a human being and imperfect," said poor Mrs. Dorriman, who, while acknowledging the truth of this, felt it came ungratefully from the lips of Grace Rivers, who owed him so much. "Now, Grace," she went on, after a thoughtful silence on the part of each, "let us examine into your other grievances. I think I have given you good reason for accepting the home my brother offers. It is not beautiful I own. It is to me everything I most dislike, but he chooses it and there is no use in wishing it to be bettered."

"Then you, too, are dependent upon him?" said Grace; "of course you are or you would not so surrender your house, the hills and rocks and river you have talked of so much, without a strong reason."

"I am not discussing my position or my grievances," said Mrs. Dorriman, stung by a careless word flung at random and making so perfect a hit.

But Grace, this new idea in her head, found Mrs. Dorriman much more tolerable to do with. She was a fellow-sufferer, and, as such, to be felt for; there was a perceptible change in her tone when she said,

"I think at our age we might see people sometimes. I get frightened when I think that perhaps all our youth may pa.s.s in this way and no possibility of a change."

"That is a very natural thought. I also have had the same idea. I have already spoken to my brother."

"And what does he say?" asked the girl eagerly.

"He agreed to make some effort; then poor Jean was ill, and everything has been left as it was."

"And now she is better you will speak again?"

"Yes, I will speak again; and now one word more. I hope what I have told you will make you more inclined to accept my brother as he is, whatever his faults may be. However harsh he may have been to others, he has been good and kind to you."

"I must first become accustomed to the painful idea of owing him so much," said Grace, in a tone of anything but humility and full of a patronage, in her way, that made Mrs. Dorriman regret she had revealed her own position to her, and she soon rose and left the room.

Meaning to be kinder to her, Grace's manner was more of a trial to Mrs.

Dorriman than it had been before. Unmerited impertinence is bad enough, but to be patronised by a girl who had no tact and a great belief in herself, was quite beyond ordinary trials.

Just at that time, before Mr. Sandford had time to note the difference in Grace's manner, he received a letter which made a change in the household eventually, though this change dawned but gradually on the minds of those who were affected by it.

The girls noticed that his manner became more important, that he read and re-read this letter during dinner several times and kept it beside his plate, a thing unknown in his previous history; then, in a pompous voice and addressing his sister, he said,

"Mr. Drayton, a person for whose family I have a high regard, comes to-morrow to consult with me on important business. We must ask him to dinner."

"Very well," answered Mrs. Dorriman, not fully aware of the importance he attached to this arrival.

"He is a man of enormous wealth, enormous wealth, and comes to consult me about some investments." He rolled out these words with immense emphasis, and looked round at the three faces to see what impression his announcement had made.

"Is he good-looking?" asked Grace, with some interest in her manner. "Is he amusing?"

"Is he a friend of yours, John?" Mrs. Dorriman asked gently. "I never heard his name before."

Margaret was mute.

"How can I tell what you consider good-looking," he answered, roughly.