Barrington. Volume 2. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ she vaguely balanced between going back to the dismal existence of the cloister, or entering upon the troubled sea of life, so full of perils to one unpractised and unskilled as she was. Now Polly was a very pretty comforter through these afflictions; her own home experiences were not all rose-colored, but the physician who whispers honeyed consolations to the patient has often the painful consciousness of a deeper malady within than that for which he ministers. Polly knew something of a life of struggle and small fortune, with its daily incident of debt and dun. She knew what it was to see money mix itself with every phase of existence, throwing its damper over joy, arresting the hand of benevolence, even denying to the sick-bed the little comforts that help to cheat misery. She knew how penury can eat its canker into the heart till all things take the color of thrift, and life becomes at last the terrible struggle of a swimmer storm-tossed and weary; and yet, with all this experience in her heart, she could whisper cheerful counsels to Josephine, and tell her that the world had a great many pleasant paths through it, though one was occasionally footsore before reaching them; and in this way they talked till they grew very fond of each other, and Josephine was ready to confess that the sorrow nearest to her heart was parting with her. “But must you go, dearest Polly, – must you really go?”

      “I must, indeed,” said she, laughing; “for if I did not, two little sisters of mine would go supperless to bed, not to speak of a small boy who is waiting for me with a Latin grammar before him; and the cook must get her orders for to-morrow; and papa must have his tea; and this short, stumpy little key that you see here unlocks the oat-bin, without which an honest old pony would share in the family fast: so that, all things considered, my absence would be far from advisable.”

      “And when shall we meet again, Polly?”

      “Not to-morrow, dear; for to-morrow is our fair at Inistioge, and I have yarn to buy, and some lambs to sell.”

      “And could you sell lambs, Polly?” said Josephine, with an expression of blank disappointment in her face.

      Polly smiled, but not without a certain sadness, as she said, “There are some sentimentalities which, to one in my condition, would just be as unsuitable as Brussels lace or diamonds. They are born of luxury and indolence, and pertain to those whose existence is assured to them; and my own opinion is, they are a poor privilege. At all events,” added she, rapidly, “they are not for me, and I do not wish for them.”

      “The day after to-morrow, then, you will come here, – promise me that.”

      “It will be late, then, towards evening, for I have made an engagement to put a young horse in harness, – a three-year-old, and a sprightly one, they tell me, – so that I may look on the morning as filled. I see, my dear child, how shocked you are with all these unladylike cares and duties; but poor Tom and I used to weld our lives together, and while I took my share of boat-building one day, he helped me in the dairy the day after; but now that he is gone, our double functions devolve upon me.”

      “How happy you must be!”

      “I think I am; at least, I have no time to spare for unhappiness.”

      “If I could but change with you, Polly!”

      “Change what, my dear child?”

      “Condition, fortune, belongings, – everything.”

      “Take my word for it, you are just as well as you are; but I suppose it’s very natural for one to fancy he could carry another’s burden easier than his own, for it was only a few moments back I thought how I should like to be you.”

      “To be me, – to be me!”

      “Of course I was wrong, dearest. It was only a passing, fleeting thought, and I now see how absurd I was to wish to be very beautiful, dearly loved, and affectionately cared for, with a beautiful home to live in, and every hour free to be happy. Oh, what a sigh, dearest, what a sigh! but I assure you I have my calamities too; the mice have got at the seeds in my onion-bed, and I don’t expect to see one come up.”

      If Josephine’s first impulse was to feel angry, her next was to laugh out, which she did heartily; and passing her arm fondly round Polly’s waist, she said, “I ‘ll get used to your raillery, Polly, and not feel sore at it; but remember, too, it’s a spirit I never knew before.”

      “How good and generous, then, to bear it so well!” said Polly, affectionately; “your friend Mr. Conyers did not show the same patience.”

      “You tried him, then?” said Josephine, with a half-eager glance.

      “Of course; I talked to him as I do to every one. But there goes your dinner-bell.” Checking herself on a reflection over the pretension of this summons of three people to a family meal in a cottage, Polly tied on her bonnet and said “Good-bye.”

      CHAPTER II. AT HOME AGAIN

      The Barringtons had not been quite a fortnight settled in their home, when a note came from Conyers, lamenting, in most feeling terms, that he could not pay them his promised visit. If the epistle was not very long, it was a grumble from beginning to end. “Nobody would know,” wrote he, “it was the same regiment poor Colonel Hunter commanded. Our Major is now in command, – the same Stapylton you have heard me speak of; and if we never looked on him too favorably, we now especially detest him. His first step was to tell us we were disorderly, ill-dressed, and ill-disciplined; but we were even less prepared to hear that we could not ride. The result of all this is, we have gone to school again, – even old captains, who have served with distinction in the field, have been consigned to the riding-house; and we poor subs are treated as if we were the last refuse of all the regiments of the army, sent here to be reformed and corrected. We have incessant drills, parades, and inspections, and, worse again, all leave is stopped. If I was not in the best of temper with the service before, you may judge how I feel towards it now. In fact, if it were not that I expect my father back in England by the middle of May, I ‘d send in my papers and leave at once. How I fall back now in memory to the happy days of my ramble with you, and wonder if I shall ever see the like again. And how I hate myself for not having felt at the time how immeasurably delightful they were! Trust me never to repeat the mistake if I have the opportunity given me. I asked this morning for three days – only three – to run down and see you once more before we leave, – for we are ordered to Honnslow, – and I was refused. But this was not all: not content with rejecting my request, he added what he called an expression of astonishment that an officer so deficient in his duties should care to absent himself from regimental discipline.”

      “Poor boy! – this is, indeed, too bad,” said Miss Dinah, as she had read thus far; “only think, Peter, how this young fellow, spoiled and petted as he was as a child, – denied nothing, pampered as though he were a prince, – should find himself the mark of so insulting a tyranny. Are you listening to me, Peter Barrington?”

      “Eh, – what? No, thank you, Dinah; I have made an excellent breakfast,” said Barrington, hurriedly, and again addressed himself to the letter he was reading. “That’s what I call a Trump, Dinah, – a regular Trump.”

      “Who is the especial favorite that has called for the very choice eulogy?” said she, bridling up.

      “Gone into the thing, too, with heart and soul, – a noble fellow!” continued Barrington.

      “Pray enlighten us as to the name that calls forth such enthusiasm.”

      “Stapylton, my dear Dinah, – Major Stapylton. In all my life I do not remember one instance to parallel with this generous and disinterested conduct. Listen to what Withering says, – not a man given to take up rash impressions in favor of a stranger. СКАЧАТЬ