Hopes and Fears or, scenes from the life of a spinster. CHARLOTTE M. YONGE

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ in London. She would have been sorry to cut herself off from a month of London in the spring, and the house might farther be useful to friends who did not object to the situation; or could be lent now and then to a curate; and she could well afford to keep it up, so she thought herself justified in following her inclination, and went up for three mournful days of settling matters there, and packing books and ornaments till the rooms looked so dismantled that she could not think how to face them again.

      It was the beginning of October when she met Miss Wells, children, and luggage at the station, and fairly was on her way to her home. She tried to call it so, as a duty to Humfrey, but it gave her a pang every time, and in effect she felt far less at home than when he and Sarah had stood in the doorway to greet the arrivals. She had purposely fixed an hour when it would be dark, so that she might receive no painful welcome; she wished no one to greet her, she had rather they were mourning for their master. She had more than once shocked Miss Wells by declaring heiresses to be a mistake; and yet, as she always owned, she could not have borne for any one else to have had the Holt.

      Fortunately for her, the children were sleepy, and were rather in a mazy state when lifted out and set on their legs in the wainscoted hall, and she sent them at once with nurse to the cheerful room that Humfrey’s little visitors had saved from becoming disused. Miss Wells’s fond vigilance was a little oppressive, but she gently freed herself from it, and opened the study door. She had begged that as little change as possible might be made; and there stood, as she had last seen them, the large leathern chair, the little table, the big Bible, and in it the little faded marker she had herself constructed for his twenty-first birthday, when her powers of making presents had not equalled her will. Yet what costly gift could have fulfilled its mission like that one? She opened the heavy book at the place. It was at the first lesson for the last day of his life, the end of the prophet Hosea, and the first words her eyes fell upon were the glorious prophecy—‘I will redeem them from death, I will ransom them from the power of the grave.’ Her heart beat high, and she stood half musing, half reading: ‘They that dwell under His shadow shall return; they shall revive as the corn, and grow as the vine.’ How gentle and refreshing the cadence! A longing rose up in her to apply those latter words more closely, by placing them on his tablet; she did not think they would shock his humility, a consideration which had withheld her from choosing other passages of which she always thought in connection with him. Another verse, and she read: ‘Ephraim shall say, What have I to do any more with idols?’

      It brought back the postscript. Kind Humfrey must have seen strong cause before he gave any reproof, least of all to her, and she could take his word that the fault had been there. She felt certain of it when she thought of her early devotion to Owen Sandbrook, and the utter blank caused by his defection. Nay, she believed she had begun to idolize Humfrey himself, but now, at her age, chastened, desponding, with nothing before her save the lonely life of an heiress old maid, counting no tie of blood with any being, what had she to engross her affections from the true Object? Alas! Honora’s heart was not feeling that Object sufficient! Conscientious, earnest, truly loving goodness, and all connected with it; striving as a faithful, dutiful woman to walk rightly, still the personal love and trust were not yet come. Spent as they had been upon props of earth, when these were taken away the tendrils hung down drearily, unemployed, not fastening on the true support.

      Not that she did not kneel beside that little table, as in a shrine, and entreat earnestly for strength and judgment to do her duty faithfully in her new station, so that Humfrey’s charge might be fulfilled, and his people might not suffer; and this done, and her homage paid to his empty throne, she was better able to satisfy her motherly friend by her deportment for the remainder of the evening, and to reply to the welcome of the weeping Mrs. Stubbs. By one of Humfrey’s wise acts of foresight, his faithful servant, Reeves, had been provided for as the master of the Union, whither it was certain he would carry the same milk of human kindness as had been so plentiful at Hiltonbury, and the Holt was thus left free for Honora’s Mr. Jones, without fear of clashing, though he was divided between pride in his young lady’s ownership of a ‘landed estate,’ and his own dislike to a country residence.

      Honora did not sleep soundly. The place was too new, and yet too familiar, and the rattling of the windows, the roaring of the wind in the chimney, and the creaking of the vane, without absolutely wakening her, kept her hearing alive continually, weaving the noises into some harassing dream that Humfrey’s voice was calling to her, and hindrances always keeping her from him; and then of Lucilla and Owen in some imminent peril, whence she shrieked to him to save them, and then remembered he would stretch out his hand no more.

      Sounder sleep came at last, towards morning, and far later than her usual hour she was wakened by a drumming upon her door, and the boy and girl dashed in, radiant with excitement at the novelty of the place. ‘Sweet Honey! Sweet Honey dear, do get up and see. There’s a rocking-horse at the end of the passage.’ ‘And there’s a real pony out in the field.’ ‘There are cows.’ ‘There’s a goat and a little kid, and I want to play with it, and I may, for it is all mine and yours.’

      ‘All yours! Owen, boy,’ repeated Honora, sitting up in surprise.

      ‘Nursey said it was all to be Owen’s,’ said Lucilla.

      ‘And she said I should be as grand a gentleman as poor Mr. Charlecote or Uncle Charteris,’ proceeded Owen, ‘and that I should go out hunting in a red coat, on a beautiful horse; but I want to have the kid now, please, Sweet Honey.’

      ‘Nurse does not know anything about it,’ said Honora, much annoyed that such an idea should have been suggested in such a manner. ‘I thought my little Owen wished for better things—I thought he was to be like his papa, and try to be a good shepherd, praising God and helping people to do right.’

      ‘But can’t I wear a red coat too?’ said Owen, wistfully.

      ‘No, my dear; clergymen don’t go out hunting; or how could they teach the poor little children?’

      ‘Then I won’t be a clergyman.’

      This was an inconvenient and most undesirable turn; but Honor’s first object must be to put the right of heirship out of the little head, and she at once began—‘Nurse must have made a mistake, my dear; this place is your home, and will be always so, I hope, while it is mine, but it must not be your own, and you must not think it will. My little boy must work for himself and other people, and that’s better than having houses and lands given to him.’

      Those words touched the pride in Lucilla’s composition, and she exclaimed—‘I’ll work too;’ but the self-consequence of proprietorship had affected her brother more strongly, and he repeated, meditatively, ‘Jones said, not mine while she was alive. Jones was cross.’

      There might not be much in the words, child as he was, but there was something in his manner of eyeing her which gave her acute unbearable pain—a look as if she stood in his way and crossed his importance. It was but a baby fit of temper, but she was in no frame to regard it calmly, and with an alteration of countenance that went to his heart, she exclaimed—‘Can that be my little Owen, talking as if he wanted his Cousin Honor dead and out of the way? We had better never have come here if you are to leave off loving me.’

      Quick to be infected by emotion, the child’s arms were at once round her neck, and he was sobbing out that he loved his Sweet Honey better than anything; nurse was naughty; Jones was naughty; he wouldn’t hunt, he wouldn’t wear a red coat, he would teach little children just like lambs, he would be like dear papa; anything the poor little fellow could think of he poured out with kisses and entreaties to know if he were naughty still; while his sister, after her usual fashion on such occasions, began to race up and down the room with paroxysms, sometimes of stamping, sometimes of something like laughter.

      Some minutes passed before Honora СКАЧАТЬ