The Clever Woman of the Family by Charlotte M. Yonge (the mitten read aloud txt) 📕

always wished that we could do more for them."

"Who?" asked Fanny.

"Certain pets of Mr. Touchett's," said Rachel; "some of the numerous ladies whose mission is that curatolatry into which Grace would lapse but for my strenuous efforts."

"I don't quite know why you call them his pets," said Grace, "except that he knew their antecedents, and told us about them."

"Exactly, that was enough, for me. I perfectly understand the meaning of Mr. Touchett's recommendations, and if what Fanny wants is a commonplace sort of upper nursemaid, I dare say it would do." And Rachel leant back, applied herself to her wood carving, and virtually retired from the discussion.

"One sister is a great invalid," said Grace, "quite a cripple, and the other goes out as a daily governess. They are a clergyman's daughters, and once were very well off, but they lost everything through some speculation of their brother. I believe he fled the country under some terrible suspicion of dishonesty; and though no one thought they had anything to do with it, their friends dropped them because they would not give him up, nor believe him guilty, and a little girl of his lives with them."

"Poor things!" exclaimed Lady Temple. "I should very much like to employ this one. How very sad."

"Mrs. Grey told me that her children had never done so well with any one," said Mrs. Curtis. "She wanted to engage Miss Williams permanently, but could not induce her to leave her sister, or even to remove her to London, on account of her health."

"Do you know her, Grace?" asked Fanny.

"I have called once or twice, and have been very much pleased with the sick sister; but Rachel does not fancy that set, you see. I meet the other at the Sunday school, I like her looks and manner very much, and she is always at the early service before her work."

"Just like a little mauve book!" muttered Rachel.

Fanny absolutely stared. "You go, don't you, Rachel? How we used to wish for it!"

"You have wished and we have tried," said Rachel, with a sigh.

"Yes, Rachel," said Grace; "but with all drawbacks, all disappointments in ourselves, it is a great blessing. We would not be without it."

"I could not be satisfied in relinquishing it voluntarily," said Rachel, "but I am necessarily one of the idle. Were I one of the occupied, laborare est orare would satisfy me, and that poor governess ought to feel the same. Think of the physical reaction of body on mind, and tell me if you could have the barbarity of depriving that poor jaded thing of an hour's sleep, giving her an additional walk, fasting, in all weathers, and preparing her to be savage with the children."

"Perhaps it refreshes her, and hinders her from being cross."

"Maybe she thinks so; but if she have either sense or ear, nothing would so predispose her to be cross as the squeaking of Mr. Touchett's penny-whistle choir."

"Poor Mr. Touchett," sighed Mrs. Curtis; "I wish he would not make such ambitious attempts."

"But you like the choral service," said Fanny, feeling as if everything had turned round. "When all the men of a regiment chant together you cannot think how grand it is, almost finer than the cathedral."

"Yes, where you can do it," said Rachel, "but not where you can't."

"I wish you would not talk about it," said Grace.

"I must, or Fanny will not understand the state of parties at Avonmouth."

"Parties! Oh, I hope not."

"My dear child, party spirit is another word for vitality. So you thought the church we sighed for had made the place all we sighed to see it, and ourselves too. Oh! Fanny is this what you have been across the world for?"

"What is wrong?" asked Fanny, alarmed.

"Do you remember our axiom? Build your church, and the rest will take care of itself. You remember our scraping and begging, and how that good Mr. Davison helped us out and brought the endowment up to the needful point for consecration, on condition the incumbency was given to him. He held it just a year, and was rich, and could help out his bad health with a curate. But first he went to Madeira, and then he died, and there we are, a perpetual curacy of L70 a year, no resident gentry but ourselves, a fluctuating population mostly sick, our poor demoralized by them, and either crazed by dissent, or heathenized by their former distance from church. Who would take us? No more Mr. Davisons! There was no more novelty, and too much smartness to invite self-devotion. So we were driven from pillar to post till we settled down into this Mr. Touchett, as good a being as ever lived, working as hard as any two, and sparing neither himself nor any one else."

Fanny looked up prepared to admire.

"But he has two misfortunes. He was not born a gentleman, and his mind does not measure an inch across."

"Rachel, my dear, it is not fair to prejudice Fanny; I am sure the poor man is very well-behaved."

"Mother! would you be calling the ideal Anglican priest, poor man?"

"I thought he was quite gentlemanlike," added Fanny.

"Gentlemanlike! ay, that's it," said Rachel, "just so like as to delight the born curatolatress, like Grace and Miss Williams."

"Would it hurt the children?" asked Fanny, hardly comprehending the tremendous term.

"Yes, if it infected you," said Rachel, intending some playfullness. "A mother of contracted mind forfeits the allegiance of her sons."

"Oh, Rachel, I know I am weak and silly," said the gentle young widow, terrified, "but the Major said if I only tried to do my duty by them I should be helped."

"And I will help you, Fanny," said Rachel. "All that is requisite is good sense and firmness, and a thorough sense of responsibility."

"That is what is so dreadful. The responsibility of all those dear fatherless boys, and if--if I should do wrong by them."

Poor Fanny fell into an uncontrollable fit of weeping at the sense of her own desolation and helplessness, and Mrs. Curtis came to comfort her, and tell her affectionately of having gone through the like feelings, and of the repeated but most comfortable words of promise to the fatherless and the widow--words that had constantly come before the sufferer, but which had by no means lost their virtue by repetition, and Fanny was soothed with hearing instances of the special Providence over orphaned sons, and their love and deference for their mother. Rachel, shocked and distressed at the effect of her sense, retired out of the conversation, till at the announcement of the carriage for Lady Temple, her gentle cousin cheered up, and feeling herself to blame for having grieved one who only meant aid and kindness, came to her and fondly kissed her forehead, saying, "I am not vexed, dear Rachel, I know you are right. I am not clever enough to bring them up properly, but if I try hard, and pray for them, it may be made up to them. And you will help me, Rachel dear," she added, as her readiest woe-offering for her tears, and it was the most effectual, for Rachel was perfectly contented as long as Fanny was dependent on her, and allowed her to assume her mission, provided only that the counter influence could be averted, and this Major, this universal referee, be eradicated from her foolish clinging habits of reliance before her spirits were enough recovered to lay her heart open to danger.

But the more Rachel saw of her cousin, the more she realized this peril. When she went down on Monday morning to complete the matters of business that had been slurred over on the Saturday, she found that Fanny had not the slightest notion what her own income was to be. All she knew was that her General had left everything unreservedly to herself, except L100 and one of his swords to Major Keith, who was executor to the will, and had gone to London to "see about it," by which word poor Fanny expressed all the business that her maintenance depended on. If an old general wished to put a major in temptation, could he have found a better means of doing so? Rachel even thought that Fanny's incapacity to understand business had made her mistake the terms of the bequest, and that Sir Stephen must have secured his property to his children; but Fanny was absolutely certain that this was not the case, for she said the Major had made her at once sign a will dividing the property among them, and appointing himself and her Aunt Curtis their guardians. "I did not like putting such a charge on my dear aunt," said Fanny, "but the Major said I ought to appoint a relation, and I had no one else! And I knew you would all be good to them, if they had lost me too, when baby was born."

"We would have tried," said Rachel, a little humbly, "but oh! I am glad you are here, Fanny!"

Nothing could of course be fixed till the Major had "seen about it." After which he was to come to let Lady Temple know the result; but she believed he would first go to Scotland to see his brother. He and his brother were the only survivors of a large family, and he had been on foreign service for twelve years, so that it would be very selfish to wish him not to take full time at home. "Selfish," thought Rachel; "if he will only stay away long enough, you shall learn, my dear, how well you can do without him!"

The boys had interrupted the conversation less than the previous one, because the lesser ones were asleep, or walking out, and the elder ones having learnt that a new week was to be begun steadily with lessons, thought it advisable to bring themselves as little into notice as possible; but fate was sure to pursue them sooner or later, for Rachel had come down resolved on testing their acquirements, and deciding on the method to be pursued with them; and though their mamma, with a curtain instinctive shrinking both for them and for herself, had put off the ordeal to the utmost by listening to all the counsel about her affairs, it was not to be averted.

"Now, Fanny, since it seems that more cannot be done at present, let us see about the children's education. Where are their books?"

"We have very few books," said Fanny, hesitating; "we had not much choice where we were."

"You should have written to me for a selection."

"Why--so we would, but there was always a talk of sending Conrade and Francis home. I am afraid you will think them very backward, dear Rachel, especially Francie; but it is not their fault, dear children, and they are not used to strangers," added Fanny, nervously.

"I do not mean to be a stranger," said Rachel.

And while Fanny, in confusion, made loving protestations about not meaning that, Rachel stepped out upon the lawn, and in her clear voice called "Conrade, Francis!" No answer. She called "Conrade" again, and louder, then turned round with "where can they be--not gone down on the beach?"

"Oh, dear no, I trust not," said the mother, flurried, and coming to the window with a call that seemed to Rachel's ears like the roar of a sucking dove.

But from behind the bushes forth came the two young gentlemen, their black garments considerably