The Young Step-Mother Part 49

CHAPTER XVII.

Planets hostile to the tender pa.s.sion must have been in the ascendant, for the result of Captain Ferrars's pursuit of his brother to Italy was the wholesome certainty that his own slender portion was all he had to reckon upon. Before returning to Canada, he came to Bayford to pour out his troubles to his cousin, and to induce her, if he could induce no one else, to advise his immediate marriage. It was the first time he had been really engaged, and his affection had not only stood three months'

absence, but had so much elevated his shatter-brained though frank and honest temperament, that Albinia conceived a high opinion of 'Emily,'

and did her best to persuade him to be patient, and wait for promotion.

Sophy likewise approved of him this time, perhaps because he was so opposite a specimen of the genus lover from that presented by her brother. Gilbert had not been able to help enjoying himself while from home, but his spirits sank on his return; he lay about on the gra.s.s in doleful dejection, studied little but L. E. L., lost appet.i.te, and reproachfully fondled his cough; but Albinia was now more compa.s.sionate than Sophy, whom she was obliged to rebuke for an unsisterly disregard toward his woes.

'I can't help it,' said Sophy; 'I can't believe in him now!'

'Yes, you ought to believe that he is really unhappy, and be more gentle and considerate with him.'

'If it had been earnest, he would have sacrificed himself instead of Genevieve.'

'Ah! Sophy, some day you will learn to make excuses for other people, and not be so intolerant.'

'I never make excuses.'

'Except for Maurice,' said Albinia. 'If you viewed other people as you do him, your judgments would be gentler.'

Sophy's conscientiousness, like her romance, was hard, high, and strict; but while she had as little mercy on herself as on others, and while there were some soft spots in her adamantine judgment, there was hope that these would spread, and, without lowering her tone, make her more merciful.

She corresponded constantly with Genevieve, who seemed very happily placed; Mrs. Elwood was delighted with her, and she with Mrs. Elwood; and her lively letters showed no signs of pining for home. Sophy felt as if it were a duty to her friend, to do what in her lay to prevent the two old ladies from being dull, and spent an hour with them every week, not herself contributing much to their amus.e.m.e.nt, but pleasing them by the attention, and hearing much that was very curious of their old-world recollections.

Ever since that unlucky penny-club-day, when she had declared that she hated poor people, she had been let alone on that subject; and though principle had made her use her needle in their behalf, shyness and reserve had kept her back from all intercourse with them; but in her wish to compensate for Genevieve's absence, she volunteered to take charge of her vacant Sunday-school cla.s.s, and obtained leave to have the girls at home on the afternoons for an hour and a half. This was enough for one who worked as she did, making a conscience of every word, and toiling to prepare her lessons, writing out her questions beforehand, and begging for advice upon them.

'My dear,' said Albinia, 'you must alter this--you see this question does not grow out of the last answer.'

'Yes,' said Sophy, 'that must have been what puzzled them last Sunday: they want connexion.'

'Nothing like logic to teach one to be simple,' said Albinia.

'I can't see the use of all this trouble,' put in Lucy. 'Why can't you ask them just what comes into your head, as I always do?'

'Suppose mistakes came into my head.'

'Oh! they would not find it out if they did! I declare!--what's this--Persian? Are you going to teach them Persian?'

'No; it is Greek. You see it is a piece of a Psalm, a quotation rather different in the New Testament. I wrote it down to ask papa what it is in Hebrew.'

'By-the-bye, Sophy,' continued Lucy, 'how could you let Susan Price come to church with lace sleeves--absolute lace sleeves!'

'Had she?'

'There--you never see anything! Mamma, would not it be more sensible to keep their dress in order, than to go poking into Hebrew, which can't be of use to any one?'

There was more reason than might appear in what Lucy said: the girls of her cla.s.s were more orderly, and fonder of her than Sophy's of the grave young lady whose earnestness oppressed them, and whose shyness looked dislike and pride. As to finding fault with their dress, she privately told Albinia that she could not commit such a discourtesy, and was answered that no one but Mrs. Dusautoy need interfere.

'I will go and ask Mrs. Dusautoy what she wishes,' said Albinia. 'I should be glad if she would modify Lucy's sumptuary laws. To fall foul of every trifle only makes the girls think of their dress.'

Albinia found Mrs. Dusautoy busied in writing notes on mourning paper.

'Here is a note I had written to you,' she said. 'I am sending over to Hadminster to see if any of the curates can take the services to-morrow.'

Albinia looked at the note while Mrs. Dusautoy wrote on hurriedly. She read that there could be no daily services at present, the Vicar having been summoned to Paris by the sudden death of Mrs. Cavendish Dusautoy.

As the image of a well-endowed widow, always trying to force her way into higher society, arose before Albinia, she could hardly wait till the letter was despatched, to break out in amazement,

'Was she a relation of yours? Even the name never made me think of it!'

'It is a pity she cannot have the gratification of hearing it, poor woman,' said Mrs. Dusautoy, 'but it is a fact that she did poor George Dusautoy the honour to marry him.'

'Mr. Dusautoy's brother?'

'Ay--he was a young surgeon, just set up in practice, exactly like John--nay, some people thought him still finer-looking. She was a Miss Greenaway Cavendish, a stock-broker's heiress of a certain age.'

'Oh!' expressively cried Albinia.

'You may say so,' returned Mrs. Dusautoy. 'She made him put away his profession, and set up for taste and elegant idleness.'

'And he submitted?'

'There was a great deal of the meek giant in him, and he believed implicitly in the honour she had done him. It would have been very touching, if it had not been so provoking, to see how patiently and humbly that fine young man gave up all that would have made him happy, to bend to her caprices and pretensions.'

'Did you ever see them together?'

'No, I never saw her at all, and him only once. I never knew John really savage but once, and that was at her not letting him come to our wedding; but she did give him leave of absence for one fortnight, when we were at Lauriston. How happy the brothers were! It did one good to hear their great voices about the house; and they were like boys on a stolen frolic, when John took him to prescribe for some of our poor people. He used to talk of bringing us his little son--the one pleasure of his life--but he never was allowed. Oh, how I used to long to stir up a mutiny!' cried Mrs. Dusautoy, quite unknowing that she ruled her own lion with a leash of silk. 'If she had appreciated him, it would have been bearable; but to her he was no more than the handsome young doctor, whom she had made a gentleman, and not a very good piece of work of it either! Little she recked of the great loving heart that had thrown itself away on her, and the patience that bore with her; and she tried to hinder all the liberal bountiful actions that were all he cared to do with his means! I wish the boy may remember him!'

'How long has he been dead?'

'These ten years. He was drowned in a lake storm in Switzerland--people clung to him, and he could not swim. It was John's one great grief--he cannot mention him even now. And really,' she added, smiling, 'I do believe he has brought himself to fancy it was a very happy marriage.

She has always been very civil; but she has been chiefly abroad, and never would take his advice about sending her boy to school.'

'What becomes of him now?'

'He is our charge. She was on the way home from Italy, when she was taken ill at Paris, and died at the end of the week.'

'How old is he?'

'About nineteen, I fancy. He must have had an odd sort of education; but if he is a nice lad, it will be a great pleasure to John to have something young about the house.'

'I was thinking that Mr. Dusautoy hardly wanted more cares.'

'So have I,' said her friend, smiling, 'and I have been laying a plot against him. You see, he is as strong as a lion, and never yet was too tired to sleep; but it is rather a tempting of Providence to keep 3589 people and fourteen services in a week resting upon one man!'

'Exactly what his churchwarden has preached to him.'

'Moreover, he cannot be in two places at once, let alone half-a-dozen.

Now, my Lancashire people have written in quest of a t.i.tle for holy orders for a young man who has just gone through Cambridge with great credit, and it strikes me that he might at once help John, and cram Master Algernon.'