The Clever Woman of the Family. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ officers to her, could only wonder at her gentle content and submission in meeting with no particular attention from anybody, and meekly allowing herself to be browbeaten by Rachel and lectured by her aunt.

      A lecture was brewing up for her indeed. Poor Mrs. Curtis was very much concerned at the necessity, and only spurred up by a strong sense of duty to give a hint—the study of which hint cost her a whole sleepless night and a very weary Sunday morning. She decided that her best course would be to drive to Myrtlewood rather early on her way to church, and take up Fanny, gaining a previous conference with her alone, if possible. “Yes, my dear,” she said to Grace, “I must get it over before church, or it will make me so nervous all through the service.” And Grace, loving her mother best, durst not suggest what it might do to Fanny, hoping that the service might help her to digest the hint.

      Mrs. Curtis’s regular habits were a good deal shocked to find Fanny still at the breakfast table. The children had indeed long finished, and were scattered about the room, one of them standing between Colonel Keith’s knees, repeating a hymn; but the younger guest was still in the midst of his meal, and owned in his usual cool manner that he was to blame for the lateness, there was no resisting the charms of no morning parade.

      Her aunt’s appearance made Fanny imagine it much later than it really was, and she hurried off the children to be dressed, and proceeded herself to her room, Mrs. Curtis following, and by way of preliminary, asking when Colonel Keith was going to Ireland.

      “Oh!” said Fanny, blushing most suspiciously under her secret, “he is not going to Ireland now.”

      “Indeed! I quite understood he intended it.”

      “Yes,” faltered Fanny, “but he found that he need not.”

      “Indeed!” again ejaculated poor perplexed Mrs. Curtis; “but then, at least, he is going away soon.”

      “He must go to Scotland by-and-by, but for the present he is going into lodgings. Do you know of any nice ones, dear aunt?”

      “Well, I suppose you can’t help that; you know, my dear, it would never do for him to stay in this house.”

      “I never thought of that,” said Fanny simply, the colour coming in a fresh glow.

      “No, my dear, but you see you are very young and inexperienced. I do not say you have done anything the least amiss, or that you ever would mean it, only you will forgive your old aunt for putting you on your guard.”

      Fanny kissed her, but with eyes full of tears, and cheeks burning, then her candour drew from her—“It was he that thought of getting a lodging. I am glad I did not persuade him not; but you know he always did live with us.”

      “With us. Yes, my poor dear, that is the difference, and you see he feels it. But, indeed, my dear child, though he is a very good man, I dare say, and quite a gentleman all but his beard, you had better not encourage—You know people are so apt to make remarks.”

      “I have no fear,” said Fanny, turning away her head, conscious of the impossibility of showing her aunt her mistake.

      “Ah! my dear, you don’t guess how ready people are to talk; and you would not like—for your children’s sake, for your husband’s sake—that—that—”

      “Pray, pray aunt,” cried Fanny, much pained, “indeed you don’t know. My husband had confidence in him more than in any one. He told him to take care of me and look after the boys. I couldn’t hold aloof from him without transgressing those wishes”—and the words were lost in a sob.

      “My dear, indeed I did not mean to distress you. You know, I dare say—I mean—” hesitated poor Mrs. Curtis. “I know you must see a great deal of him. I only want you to take care—appearances are appearances, and if it was said you had all these young officers always coming about—”

      “I don’t think they will come. It was only just to call, and they have known me so long. It is all out of respect to my father and Sir Stephen,” said Fanny, meekly as ever. “Indeed, I would not for the world do anything you did not like, dear aunt; but there can’t be any objection to my having Mrs. Hammond and the children to spend the day to-morrow.”

      Mrs. Curtis did not like it; she had an idea that all military ladies were dashing and vulgar, but she could not say there was any objection, so she went on to the head of poor Fanny’s offending. “This young man, my dear, he seems to make himself very intimate.”

      “Alick Keith? Oh aunt!” said Fanny, more surprised than by all the rest; “don’t you know about him? His father and mother were our greatest friends always; I used to play with him every day till I came to you. And then just as I married, poor Mrs. Keith died, and we had dear little Bessie with us till her father could send her home. And when poor Alick was so dreadfully wounded before Delhi, Sir Stephen sent him up in a litter to the hills for mamma and me to nurse. Mamma was so fond of him, she used to call him her son.”

      “Yes, my dear, I dare say you have been very intimate; but you see you are very young; and his staying here—”

      “I thought he would be so glad to come and be with the Colonel, who was his guardian and Bessie’s,” said Fanny, “and I have promised to have Bessie to stay with me, she was such a dear little thing—”

      “Well, my dear, it may be a good thing for you to have a young lady with you, and if he is to come over, her presence will explain it. Understand me, my dear, I am not at all afraid of your—your doing anything foolish, only to get talked of is so dreadful in your situation, that you can’t be too careful.”

      “Yes, yes, thank you, dear aunt,” murmured the drooping and subdued Fanny, aware how much the remonstrance must cost her aunt, and sure that she must be in fault in some way, if she could only see how. “Please, dear aunt, help me, for indeed I don’t know how to manage—tell me how to be civil and kind to my dear husband’s friends without—without—”

      Her voice broke down, though she kept from tears as an unkindness to her aunt.

      In very fact, little as she knew it, she could not have defended herself better than by this humble question, throwing the whole guidance of her conduct upon her aunt. If she had been affronted, Mrs. Curtis could have been displeased; but to be thus set to prescribe the right conduct, was at once mollifying and perplexing.

      “Well, well, my dear child, we all know you wish to do right; you can judge best. I would not have you ungrateful or uncivil, only you know you are living very quietly, and intimacy—oh! my dear, I know your own feeling will direct you. Dear child! you have taken what I said so kindly. And now let me see that dear little girl.”

      Rachel had not anticipated that the upshot of a remonstrance, even from her mother, would be that Fanny was to be directed by her own feeling!

      That same feeling took Lady Temple to Mackarel Lane later in the day. She had told the Colonel her intention, and obtained Alison’s assurance that Ermine’s stay at Myrtlewood need not be impracticable, and armed with their consent, she made her timid tap at Miss Williams’ door, and showed her sweet face within it.

      “May I come in? Your sister and your little niece are gone for a walk. I told them I would come! I did want to see you!”

      “Thank you,” said Ermine, with a sweet smile, colouring cheek, yet grave eyes, and much taken by surprise at being seized by both hands, and kissed on each cheek.

      “Yes, you must let me,” said her visitor, looking up with her pretty imploring gesture, “you СКАЧАТЬ