Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles Part 112

A week or two after this, Signora Varsini received a letter with a foreign post-mark on it. The fact was nothing extraordinary in itself: the signora did occasionally receive letters bearing foreign post-marks; but this one threw her into a state of commotion, the like of which had never been witnessed. Thrusting the letter into the deepest pocket of her dress when it was delivered to her, she finished giving the music lesson to Minny, which she was occupied upon, and then retired to her room to peruse it. From this she emerged a short time after, with a long face of consternation, uttering frantic e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns. Mrs. Dare was quite alarmed. What was the matter with mademoiselle?

"Ah, what misere! what desolation! what tristes nouvelles!" The letter was from her aunt in Paris, who was thrown upon her death-bed; and she, mademoiselle, must hasten thither without delay. If she could not start by a train that day, she must go by the first one the next. She was desolee to leave madame at a coup; her heart would break in bidding adieu to the young ladies; but necessity was stern. She must make her baggage forthwith, and would be obliged to madame for her salary.

Mrs. Dare was taken--as the saying runs--all of a heap. She had not cared to part with mademoiselle so soon, although the retaining her entailed an additional expense, which they could ill afford in their gradually increasing embarra.s.sments and straitening means: but the chief point that puzzled her was the paying up of the salary. Between thirty and forty pounds were due. There appeared, however, to be no help for it, and she applied to Mr. Dare.

"You may as well ask me for my head as for that sum to-day," was that gentleman's reply, thinking he was destined never to find peace on earth. "Tell her you will send it after her, if she must go."

Mrs. Dare shook her head. It would not be of the least use, she was sure. Mademoiselle was not one to be put off in that way, or to depart without her money.

How Mr. Dare managed it he perhaps hardly knew himself; but he brought home the money at night, and the governess was paid in full. On the following morning there was a ceremonious leave-taking, loud and suggestive on the part of mademoiselle. She saluted them all on both cheeks, and promised to write every week, at least. A fly came to the door for her and her luggage, and George Dare mounted the box to escort her to the station. Mademoiselle politely invited him inside; but he had just lighted a cigar, and preferred to stop where he was.

"I say, mademoiselle," cried he, after she was seated in the railway carriage, "if you should happen to come across Herbert, I wish you'd tell him----"

Mademoiselle interrupted with a burst of indignation. _She_ come across Monsieur Herbert! What should bring her coming across _him_? Monsieur George must be _fou_ to think it. Monsieur Herbert was not in Paris, was he? She had understood he was in Holland.

"Oh, well, it's all on the other side of the Channel," answered George, whose geographical notions of the Continent were not very definite.

"Perhaps you won't see him, though, mademoiselle; so never mind."

Mademoiselle replied by telling him to take care of himself; for the whistle was sounding. George drew back, and watched the train off; mademoiselle nodding her farewell to him from the window.

And that was the last that Helstonleigh saw of Mrs. Dare's Italian governess, the Signora Varsini. Helstonleigh might not have been any the worse had it never seen the first of her. Mrs. Dare, after her departure, suddenly remembered that mademoiselle had once told her she had not a single relative in the world. Who could this aunt be, to whom she was hastening?

And Henry Ashley? As the weeks and the months went on, Henry began to rouse himself from his prostration; his apathy. William Halliburton made no secret of it to Henry that it was suspected he was suffering from some inward grief which he was concealing, and that he had been questioned on the point by Mr. Ashley. "You know," said William, "I shall have no resource but to _tell_, unless you show yourself a sensible man, and come out of this nonsense."

It alarmed Henry; rather than have his secret feelings betrayed for the family benefit, he could have died. In a grumbling and discontented sort of mood, he went about again, and resumed his idle occupations (such as they were) as usual. One evening William enticed him out for a walk, took possession of his arm, and pounced into Robert East's, before Henry well knew where he was. He sat down, apathetic and indifferent, after nodding carelessly to the respectful salutation of the men. "I must give just ten minutes to them, as I am here," observed William. "You can go to sleep the while."

The ten minutes lengthened into twenty, and Henry's attention was so far roused that he came to the table in his impulsive way, and began talking on his own account. When William was ready to go, he was not; and he actually told the men that he would come round again. It was a great point gained.

Small beginnings, it has been remarked, lead to great endings. The humble, confined way in which the cla.s.s had begun at Robert East's; the vague ideas of William upon the subject; the doubtings of East and Crouch, were looked back upon with a smile. For the little venture had swollen itself into a great undertaking--an undertaking that was destined to effect a revolution throughout the whole of Honey Fair, and might probably even extend to Helstonleigh itself. The drawback now was want of room; numbers were being kept away by it. Henry Ashley did go again; and finding that books of the right kind ran short, he, the day after his second visit, wrote off an order for a whole cargo.

Mr. Ashley was in a state of inward delight. Anything to rouse him! "You think it will succeed, that movement, do you, Henry?" he carelessly observed.

"It's safe to succeed," was the answer. "William, with his palavering, has gained the ear of the fellows. I don't believe there's William Halliburton's equal in the whole world!" he added, with enthusiasm.

"Fancy his sacrificing his time to such a thing, and for no benefit to himself! It will bear a rich crop of fruit too. If I have the gift--I'll give you a long word for once--of ratiocination, this reform of William's will be more extensive than we now foresee."

The chief thing in these evenings was to keep alive the interest of the men. Not to lead them to abstruse things, which they had a difficulty in understanding, and remained strange to at best; but rather to plunge them into familiar home topics--the philosophy, if you will, of everyday life. There is a right and a wrong way of doing most things, and it often happens that people, from ignorance, pursue the wrong. Of the plain sanitary laws, relating to physical health, Honey Fair was intensely ignorant: of the ventilation of rooms, of cleanliness, of the most simple rules by which the body can be kept in order, they knew no more than they did of the moon. When a man was, to use Honey Fair phraseology, "took bad," he generally neglected the symptoms altogether, thereby laying the foundation of worse illness: or else he went to a doctor, and ran himself into expense. A little familiarity with ordinary complaints and ordinary antidotes would have remedied this. An acquaintance with sanitary laws would have prevented it. When children were down with measles or scarlatina, the careless of the land allowed the maladies to take their own course, and the sufferers to air themselves in the gutters, as usual. The cautious ones smothered the patients in a hot room, keeping up a fire as large as the stock of coals would allow, and borrowing all the blankets from the houses on either side, to heap upon them. No wonder the supply of little coffins was great to Honey Fair.

All these things would be talked of and discussed, and a little enlightenment imparted to the men, as a guidance for the future. No one who did not witness it can imagine the delighted satisfaction with which these and similar practical topics were welcomed; for they bore for them a personal interest--they concerned themselves, their families, and their homes.

One evening the way in which Honey Fair rather liked to spend its Sundays was under discussion; namely, the men in smoking; the women slatternly and dirty; the children fighting and quarrelling in the dirt outside.

William Halliburton was asking them in a half-earnest, half-joking manner, what particular benefit they found in it, that it should not be remedied? Could they impart its pleasures to him? If so----

His voice suddenly faltered and stopped. Standing just inside the door of the room, a quiet spectator and listener of the proceedings, was Thomas Ashley. The men followed William's gaze, saw who was amongst them, and rose in respectful silence.

Mr. Ashley came forward, signing to William to continue. But William's eloquence had died out, leaving only a heightened colour in its place.

In the presence of Mr. Ashley, whom he so loved and respected, he had grown timid as a child.

"Do you know," said Mr. Ashley, addressing the men, "it gives me greater pleasure to see you here than it would do were I to hear that you had come into a fortune."

They smiled and shook their heads. "Fortunes didn't come to the like o'

them."

"Never mind," replied Mr. Ashley: "fortunes are not the best gifts in life."

He stayed talking with them some little time, quiet words of encouragement, and then withdrew, wishing them good luck. William left with him: and as they pa.s.sed through Honey Fair, the women ran to their doors to gaze after them. Mr. Ashley, slightly bent with his advancing years, leaned upon William's arm, but his face was fresh as ever, and his dark hair showed no signs of age. William erect, n.o.ble; his height greater than Mr. Ashley's, his forehead broader, his deep grey eyes strangely earnest and sincere; and a flitting smile playing on his lips.

He was listening to Mr. Ashley's satisfaction at what he had witnessed.

"How long do you intend to sacrifice your evenings to them?"

"It is no sacrifice, Mr. Ashley. I am glad to do it. I consider it one of the best uses to which my evenings could be given. I intend to enlist Henry for good in the cause, if I can do so."

"You will be an ingenious persuader if you do," returned Mr. Ashley. "I would give half I am worth," he abruptly added, "to see the boy take an interest in life."

"It will be sure to come, sir. One of these days I shall surprise him into reading a good play to the men. Something to laugh at. It will be a beginning."

"He is very much better," observed Mr. Ashley. "All that listless apathy is going."

"Oh yes. He is all but cured."

"What was it, William?"

William was taken by surprise. He did not answer, and Mr. Ashley repeated the question.

"It is his secret, sir, not mine."

"You must confide it to me," said Mr. Ashley, in his tone of quiet firmness. "You know me, William. When I promise that neither it nor the fact of its having been disclosed to me, shall ever escape me, directly or indirectly, to any living person, you know that you may depend upon me."

He paused. William did not speak: he was debating with himself what he _ought_ to do.

"William, it is a relief that I must have. Since my suspicions, that there was a secret, were confirmed, I cannot tell you what improbable fancies and fears have not run riot in my brain. For prostration so excessive to have overtaken him, one would almost think he had been guilty of murder, or some other unaccountable crime. _You must relieve my mind_: which, in spite of my uncontrollable fancies, I do not doubt the truth will do. It will make no difference to any one; it will only be an additional bond between myself and you; and you, my almost son."

William's duty rose before him, clear and distinct. But when he spoke, it was in a whisper.

"He loved Anna Lynn."

Mr. Ashley walked on without comment. William resumed.

"Had that unhappy affair not taken place, Henry's intention was to make her his wife, provided you could have been brought to consent to it. His whole days used to be spent, I believe, in planning how he could best invent a chance of obtaining it."

"And now?" very sharply asked Mr. Ashley.

"Now the thing is at an end for ever. Henry's good sense has come to his aid; I suppose I may say his pride; his self-esteem. Innocent of actual ill as Anna was in the affair, there was sufficient reflection cast upon her to prove to Henry that his hopeful visions could never be carried out. That was Henry's secret, sir: and I almost feared the blow would have killed him. But he is getting over it."

Mr. Ashley drew a deep breath. "William, I thank you. You have relieved me from a nightmare: and you may forget having given me the confidence if you like, for it will never be abused. What are you going to do about s.p.a.ce?" he continued, in a different tone.

"About s.p.a.ce, sir?"

"For those proteges of yours, at East's. They seem to me to be tolerably confined for it, there?"