More Pages from a Journal. William Hale White

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СКАЧАТЬ was most inconvenient to Mrs. Poulter to advance twenty pounds at that moment. But she had her own reasons for not wishing that Mr. Goacher should imagine she was straitened.

      ‘I believe I can assist you.’

      Mr. Goacher dropped on his knees and took the lady’s hand, kissing it fervently.

      ‘My dear madam, may I take this opportunity, in this position, of declaring what must be obvious to you, that my heart—yes, my heart—has been captured and is yours? Identity of views on almost every subject, social and religious, personal attachment beyond that felt to any other woman I ever beheld—have we not sufficient reasons, if you can but respond to my emotion, to warrant an Eden for us in the future?’

      ‘Mr. Goacher, you take me by surprise. I cannot conceal my regard for you, but you will not expect an answer upon a matter of such moment until I have given it most mature consideration. Miss Taggart will be here directly: I think I hear the bell.’

      Mr. Goacher slowly rose: Miss Taggart appeared and announced that the rooms were secured.

      To end this part of the story, it may be added that in about a fortnight Mr. Goacher’s throat was quite well, and he announced to Mrs. Poulter his intention of resuming active work in the Church. The marriage, therefore, was no longer delayed.

      A little while afterwards Mrs. Goacher discovered that her husband had been a missionary in the service of the Church Missionary Society and had consequently been Low, that he had been returned a little damaged in character; and that resumption of active work was undesirable.

      Mrs. Mudge had lunch and tea with a friend. When she came back Miss Toller told her what had happened.

      ‘I dare say you’ll blame me. It was wrong to let my temper get the better of me, but I could not help it.’

      ‘Help it? The wonder to me is you’ve stood it so long. I couldn’t stand them; I should have left if they hadn’t. Have they paid you?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘What, that Goacher? Then he borrowed it!’ and Mrs. Mudge laughed till she cried.

      The day wore on and no carrier came for the box. After dinner Miss Toller told Mrs. Mudge she must go out for a few minutes to get a charwoman; that she would take the latch-key, and that nobody would call. She had gone about a quarter of an hour when there was a ring at the bell. Mrs. Mudge went to the door and, behold, there was Helen!

      ‘The Lord have mercy on us! Why did you run away so suddenly?’

      ‘Don’t ask me. Never you say a word about it to me. I’m a sinner: where’s Miss Toller?’

      Helen listened in silence as Mrs. Mudge told her the eventful history of the last twelve hours. She went upstairs: Miss Toller’s bedroom door was open, and on the drawers she saw a little packet tied up with blue silk.

      It was addressed ‘for dear Helen.’ She tore it open, and there was a locket and in it was her beloved mistress’s hair—the mistress to whom she had been so cruel, who had so nobly defended her. She threw herself on the bed and her heart almost broke. Suddenly she leaped up, flew down into the kitchen, and began washing up the plates and dishes. Miss Toller was away for nearly an hour; her search for a charwoman was unsuccessful, and she came back dejected. Helen rushed to meet her and they embraced one another.

      ‘O Miss Toller, forgive me! When I saw you sitting with that Poulter and that Goacher, the Devil got the better of me, but—’

      ‘Hush, my dear; I oughtn’t to have gone, and never any more from this day call me Miss Toller. Call me Mary, always from this day—you promise me?’ and Miss Toller kissed Helen’s quivering lips.

      Miss Toller did all she could to get other boarders, but none came and she had a hard time. It was difficult for her sometimes to find a dinner for herself and Helen. Good Mrs. Mudge was delicately considerate and often said, ‘that meat need not come up again,’ and purposely ordered more than she and Miss Everard could eat, but the butcher’s bill and the milk bill were not paid so regularly as heretofore. Worse than privation, worse than debt, was the vain watching for inquiries and answers to her advertisement. What would become of her? Where could she go? Three more boarders she must have or she could not live, and there was no prospect of one. If by great good luck she could obtain three, they might not stay and the dismal struggle would begin again. Lodging-house keepers are not the heroines of novels and poems, but if endurance, wrestling with adversity, hoping in despair, be virtues, the eternal scales will drop in favour of many underground basements against battlefields. At last, after one or two pressing notices from landlord and rate-collector, Mrs. Mudge and Miss Everard were informed that Russell House was to be given up. She and Helen must seek situations as servants.

      Mrs. Mudge and Miss Everard went away at the end of the month. On the dining-room table after they had gone Miss Toller found two envelopes directed to her. Inside were some receipts. Mrs. Mudge had paid all the rent due to the end of Miss Toller’s term, and Miss Everard the taxes. Next week Miss Toller had the following letter from her father:—

      ‘My dear Mary—This is to tell you that your stepmother departed this life last Tuesday fortnight. She was taken with a fit on the Sunday. On Tuesday morning she came to herself and wished us to send for the parson. He was here in an hour and she made her peace with God. I did not ask you to the funeral as you had been so long away. My dear Mary, I cannot live alone at my age. I was sixty-five last Michaelmas, and I want you back in the old house. Let bygones be bygones. I shall always be, your affectionate father,

      ‘Thomas Toller.

      ‘PS.—You can have the same bedroom you had when your own mother was alive.’

      The furniture, modern stuff, was sold, every stick of it, and Miss Toller rejoiced when the spring sofa and chairs which had been devoted to Poulters and Goachers and Taggarts were piled up in the vans. The nightmares of fifteen years hid themselves in the mats and carpets.

      Helen and she standing at the dresser ate their last meal in the dingy kitchen of Russell House. It was nothing but sandwiches, but it was the most delicious food they had tasted there. It is a mistake if you are old to go back to the village in which you were born and bred. Ghosts meet you in every lane and look out from the windows. There are new names on the signboard of the inn and over the grocer’s shop. A steam-engine has been put in the mill, and the pathway behind to the mill dam and to the river bank has been closed. The people you see think you are a visitor. The church is restored, and there is a brand new Wesleyan chapel. Better stay where you are and amuse yourself by trying to make flowers grow in your little, smoky, suburban back-garden. But Miss Toller and Helen were not too old. Mr. Toller met them at the station with a four-wheeled chaise. Before the train had quite stopped, Helen caught sight of somebody standing by the cart which was brought for the luggage. ‘It’s Tom! it’s Tom!’ she screamed; and it was Tom himself, white-headed now and a little bent. She insisted on walking with him by the side of his horse the whole four miles to their journey’s end. He was between forty and fifty when she went away and had been with Mr. Toller ever since—‘tried a bit at times,’ he confessed, ‘with the second missus.’ ‘She’s with God, let us hope,’ said Tom, ‘and we’ll leave her alone.’

      They came to Barton Sluice. Flat and unadorned are the fields there, and the Nen is slow, but it was their own land, they loved it, and they were at rest. They fell into their former habits, and the talk of crops, of markets, of the weather, and of their neighbours was sweet. Mrs. Mudge and Miss Everard came now and then to see them in summer time, СКАЧАТЬ