What Necessity Knows Part 55

Robert Trenholme was still obliged to rest his sprained ankle, and was not yet going out, but an opportunity was afforded him of meeting his friendly neighbours, at least the feminine portion of them, in company, sooner than he antic.i.p.ated.

The day before the college rea.s.sembled it happened that the sewing-circle connected with the church met at Mrs. Rexford's house. The weather was unusually warm for the season; the workers still preferred to sit out of doors, and the gra.s.s under the tree at the front of the house was their place of meeting. About a dozen were there, among whom Mrs. and Miss Bennett were conspicuous, when Mrs. Brown and her daughter drove up, a little belated, but full of an interesting project.

"Oh, Mrs. Rexford," they cried, "we have just thought of such a charming plan! Why not send our carriage on to the college, and beg Princ.i.p.al Trenholme to drive back here and sit an hour or two with us? It's so near that, now he is so much better, the motion cannot hurt him; this charming air and the change cannot fail to do him good, so confined as he has been, and we shall all work with the more zeal in his presence."

The plan was approved by all. If there were others there who, with Sophia Rexford, doubted whether greater zeal with the needle would be the result of this addition to their party, they made no objections.

They could not but feel that it would be a good thing for the invalid's solitude to be thus broken in upon, for, for some reason or other, Trenholme had been in solitude lately; he had neither invited visitors nor embraced such opportunity as he had of driving out.

Trenholme answered this invitation in person. The motherly members of the party attended him at the carriage door when he drove up, and, with almost affectionate kindness, conducted his limping steps to a reclining chair that had been provided. His crutch, and a certain pensive pallor on his countenance, certainly added to his attractions. Even Sophia Rexford was almost humble in the attentions she offered him, and the other maidens were demonstrative. In spite of such protestations as he made, he was enthroned, as it were, in the most comfortable manner. Fur sleigh robes were spread on the gra.s.s for a carpet, and the best of them was used as a rug about his feet.

The majority of women are best pleased by the company of a man whom other men admire. Trenholme had never descended to being, even in leisure hours, a mere "ladies' man"; if he had been that he would not have had his present place in this company. Yet he was not bored by finding himself the only man among so many women; he knew most of these women, their faults and their worthiness, far too well not to be at ease with them, even if he had troubled to give a second thought to their largess of kindliness. He had responded to their unexpected call to meet them together because he had something to say to them, and he said it that afternoon in his own time and in his own way. Had he needed to borrow dignity to sustain their jubilant welcome, his purpose would have lent it to him, and, for the rest, all his heart was overshadowed and filled with the consciousness of Sophia Rexford's presence. He had not seen her since the night in which they had walked through midnight hours together. He could not touch her hand without feeling his own tremble.

He did not look at her again.

It was a pretty scene. The women, on their carpet of faded ox and buffalo skins, were grouped on chairs and cushions. The foliage of the maple tree above them was turning pink and crimson, shedding a glow as of red curtains, and some of its leaves were already scattered upon the ragged gra.s.s or on the shelving verandah roof of the wooden farmhouse.

The words that fell in small talk from the women were not unlike the colour of these fading leaves--useless, but lending softness to the hour.

"And _your_ sewing-party will quite bear the palm for this season, Mrs.

Rexford, quite the palm; for no other has been honoured by the presence of the Princ.i.p.al."

It was Mrs. Bennett who spoke; her upright carriage, thin nose, and clear even voice, carried always the suggestion of mild but obstinate self-importance.

The birdlike little hostess, confused by the misapplied praise, remonstrated. "'Tis Mrs. Brown," cried she, "who bears the palm."

Here the younger ladies, to whom nature had kindly given the saving sense of humour, laughed a little--not too obviously--in concert with the man thus lauded.

Then they all fell to talking upon the latest news that Ch.e.l.laston could afford, which was, that a gentleman, a minister from the south of Maine, had arrived, and by various explanations had identified the old preacher who had been called Cameron as his father. It seemed that the old man had long ago partially lost his wits--senses and brain having been impaired through an accident--but this son had always succeeded in keeping him in a quiet neighbourhood where his condition was understood, until, in the beginning of the previous winter, the poor wanderer had escaped the vigilance of his friends. It was partly on account of the false name which had been given him that they had failed to trace him until the circ.u.mstances of his tragic death were advertised.

"The son is culpable. Mad people should be shut up where they can do no mischief." About half the ladies present joined in this comment.

Mrs. Rexford looked round uneasily to see that her young daughter Winifred had not joined the party. Indiscreet usually, she was wonderfully tender in these days of Winifred.

"I am not sure that if he had been my father I would have shut him up."

Trenholme spoke and sighed.

"If he had been my father," Sophia cried vehemently, "I would have gone with him from village to village and door to door; I would rather have begged my bread than kept him from preaching. I would have told the people he was a _little_ mad, but not much, and saner than any of _them_."

There was enough sympathy with Sophia's vivacity among her friends to make it easy to express herself naturally.

"What is one false opinion more or less?" she cried. "Do any of us imagine that _our_ opinions are just those held in heaven? This old man had all his treasure in heaven, and that is, after all, the best security that heart or mind will not go far astray."

The youngest Miss Brown was sitting on the fur rugs, not very far from Trenholme. She looked up at him, pretty herself in the prettiness of genuine admiration.

"It is such a pity that Miss Rexford is sitting just out of your sight.

You would be lenient to the heresy if you could see how becoming it is to the heretic."

But Trenholme was not seen to look round. He was found to be saying that the son of the late preacher evidently held his father in reverence; it seemed that the old man had in his youth been a disciple and preacher under Miller, the founder of the Adventist sect; it was natural that, as his faculties failed, his mind should revert to the excitements of the former time.

Mrs. Bennett had already launched forth an answer to Sophia's enthusiasm. She continued, in spite of Trenholme's intervening remarks.

"When I was a girl papa always warned us against talking on serious subjects. He thought we could not understand them."

"I think it was good advice," said Sophia with hardihood.

"Oh yes, naturally--papa being a dean--"

Trenholme encouraged the conversation about the dean. It occurred to him to ask if there was a portrait extant of that worthy. "We are such repet.i.tions of our ancestors," said he, "that I think it is a pity when family portraits are lacking."

Mrs. Bennett regretted that her father's modesty, the fortunes of the family, etc.; but she said there was a very good portrait of her uncle, the admiral, in his son's house in London.

"I do not feel that I represent my ancestors in the least," said Miss Bennett, "and I should be very sorry if I did."

She certainly did not look very like her mother, as she sat with affectionate nearness to Sophia Rexford, accomplishing more work in an hour with her toil-reddened hands than her mother was likely to do in two.

"Ah, ladies' feelings!" Trenholme rallied her openly. "But whatever you may _feel_, you a.s.suredly do represent them, and owe to them all you are."

"Very true," said the mother approvingly. "Papa had black hair, Princ.i.p.al Trenholme; and although my daughter's hair is brown, I often notice in it just that gloss and curl that was so beautiful in his."

"Yes, like and unlike are oddly blended. My father was a butcher by trade, and although my work in life has been widely different from his, I often notice in myself something of just those qualities which enabled him to succeed so markedly, and I know that they are my chief reliance.

My brother, who has determined to follow my father's trade, is not so like him in many ways as I am."

If he had said that his father had had red hair, he would not have said it with less emphasis. No one present would have doubted his truthfulness on the one point, nor did they now doubt it on this other; but no one mastered the sense and force of what he had said until minutes, more or less in each case, had flown past, and in the meantime he had talked on, and his talk had drifted to other points in the subject of heredity. Sophia answered him; the discussion became general.

Blue and Red came offering cups of tea.

"Aren't they pretty?" said the youngest Miss Brown, again lifting her eyes to Trenholme for sympathy in her admiration.

"Sh--sh--," said the elder ladies, as if it were possible that Blue and Red could be kept in ignorance of their own charms.

A man nervously tired can feel acute disappointment at the smallest, silliest thing. Trenholme had expected that Sophia would pour out his tea; he thought it would have refreshed him then to the very soul, even if she had given it indifferently. The cup he took seemed like some bitter draught he was swallowing for politeness' sake. When it, and all the necessary talk concerning it, were finished, together with other matters belonging to the hour, he got himself out of his big chair, and Mrs. Brown's horses, that had been switching their tails in the lane, drove him home.

The carriage gone, Mrs. Brown's curiosity was at hand directly. She and Mrs. Rexford were standing apart where with motherly kindness they had been bidding him good-bye.

"I suppose, Mrs. Rexford, you know--you have always known--this fact concerning Princ.i.p.al Trenholme's origin. I mean what he alluded to just now." Mrs. Brown spoke, not observing Mrs. Rexford but the group in which her daughters were prominent figures.

Nothing ever impressed Mrs. Rexford's imagination vividly that did not concern her own family.

"I do not think it has been named to me," said she, "but no doubt my husband and Sophia--"

"You think they have known it?" It was of importance to Mrs. Brown to know whether Captain Rexford and Sophia had known or not; for if they knew and made no difference--"If Miss Rexford has not objected. She is surely a judge in such matters!"

"Sophia! Yes, to be sure, Sophia is very highly connected on her mother's side. I often say to my husband that I am a mere n.o.body compared with his first wife. But Sophia is not proud. Sophia would be kind to the lowest, Mrs. Brown." (This praise was used with vaguest application.) "She has such a good heart! Really, what she has done for me and my children--"

A light broke in upon Mrs. Brown's mind. She heard nothing concerning Mrs. Rexford and her children. She knew now, or felt sure she knew, why Miss Rexford had always seemed a little stiff when Trenholme was praised. Her att.i.tude towards him, it appeared, had always been that of mere "kindness." Now, up to this moment, Mrs. Brown, although not a designing woman, had entertained comfortable motherly hopes that Trenholme might ultimately espouse one of her daughters, and it had certainly advanced him somewhat in her favour that his early acquaintance with Miss Rexford was an undisputed fact; but in the light of what Mrs. Rexford had just said of her daughter's good-heartedness all a.s.sumed a different aspect. Mrs. Brown was in no way "highly connected," belonging merely to the prosperous middle cla.s.s, but, with the true colonial spirit that recognises only distance below, none above, she began to consider whether, in the future, her role should not be that of mere kindness also. To do her justice, she did not decide the question just then.

The voice of her youngest daughter was heard laughing rather immoderately. "Indeed, Mrs. Bennett," she laughed, "we all heard him say it, and, unlike you, we believed our ears. We'll draw up a statement to that effect and sign our names, if that is necessary to a.s.sure you."

Her mother, approaching, detected, as no one else did, a strain of hysterical excitement in her laughter, and bid her rise to come home, but she did not heed the summons.