MY father's mortal remains had
been consigned to the tomb; and
we, with sad faces and sombre
garments, sat lingering over
the frugal breakfast-table, revolving
plans for our future life. My
mother's strong mind had not
given way beneath even this affliction:
her spirit, though crushed, was
not broken. Mary's wish was that
I should go back to Horton Lodge,
and that our mother should come
and live with her and Mr. Richardson
at the vicarage: she affirmed
that he wished it no less than
herself, and that such an arrangement
could not fail to benefit all
parties; for my mother's society
and experience would be of inestimable
value to them, and they would
do all they could to make her
happy. But no arguments or entreaties
could prevail: my mother was
determined not to go. Not that
she questioned, for a moment,
the kind wishes and intentions
of her daughter; but she affirmed
that so long as God spared her
health and strength, she would
make use of them to earn her
own livelihood, and be chargeable
to no one; whether her dependence
would be felt as a burden or
not. If she could afford to reside
as a lodger in - vicarage, she
would choose that house before
all others as the place of her
abode; but not being so circumstanced,
she would never come under its
roof, except as an occasional
visitor: unless sickness or calamity
should render her assistance
really needful, or until age
or infirmity made her incapable
of maintaining herself.
'No, Mary,' said she, 'if Richardson
and you have anything to spare,
you must lay it aside for your
family; and Agnes and I must
gather honey for ourselves. Thanks
to my having had daughters to
educate, I have not forgotten
my accomplishments. God willing,
I will check this vain repining,'
she said, while the tears coursed
one another down her cheeks in
spite of her efforts; but she
wiped them away, and resolutely
shaking back her head, continued,
'I will exert myself, and look
out for a small house, commodiously
situated in some populous but
healthy district, where we will
take a few young ladies to board
and educate - if we can get them
- and as many day pupils as will
come, or as we can manage to
instruct. Your father's relations
and old friends will be able
to send us some pupils, or to
assist us with their recommendations,
no doubt: I shall not apply to
my own. What say you to it, Agnes?
will you be willing to leave
your present situation and try?'
'Quite willing, mamma; and
the money I have saved will do
to furnish the house. It shall
be taken from the bank directly.'
'When it is wanted: we must
get the house, and settle on
preliminaries first.'
Mary offered to lend the little
she possessed; but my mother
declined it, saying that we must
begin on an economical plan;
and she hoped that the whole
or part of mine, added to what
we could get by the sale of the
furniture, and what little our
dear papa had contrived to lay
aside for her since the debts
were paid, would be sufficient
to last us till Christmas; when,
it was hoped, something would
accrue from our united labours.
It was finally settled that this
should be our plan; and that
inquiries and preparations should
immediately be set on foot; and
while my mother busied herself
with these, I should return to
Horton Lodge at the close of
my four weeks' vacation, and
give notice for my final departure
when things were in train for
the speedy commencement of our
school.
We were discussing
these affairs on the morning
I have mentioned,
about a fortnight after my father's
death, when a letter was brought
in for my mother, on beholding
which the colour mounted to her
face - lately pale enough with
anxious watchings and excessive
sorrow. 'From my father!' murmured
she, as she hastily tore off
the cover. It was many years
since she had heard from any
of her own relations before.
Naturally wondering what the
letter might contain, I watched
her countenance while she read
it, and was somewhat surprised
to see her bite her lip and knit
her brows as if in anger. When
she had done, she somewhat irreverently
cast it on the table, saying
with a scornful smile, - 'Your
grandpapa has been so kind as
to write to me. He says he has
no doubt I have long repented
of my "unfortunate marriage," and
if I will only acknowledge this,
and confess I was wrong in neglecting
his advice, and that I have justly
suffered for it, he will make
a lady of me once again - if
that be possible after my long
degradation - and remember my
girls in his will. Get my desk,
Agnes, and send these things
away: I will answer the letter
directly. But first, as I may
be depriving you both of a legacy,
it is just that I should tell
you what I mean to say. I shall
say that he is mistaken in supposing
that I can regret the birth of
my daughters (who have been the
pride of my life, and are likely
to be the comfort of my old age),
or the thirty years I have passed
in the company of my best and
dearest friend; - that, had our
misfortunes been three times
as great as they were (unless
they had been of my bringing
on), I should still the more
rejoice to have shared them with
your father, and administered
what consolation I was able;
and, had his sufferings in illness
been ten times what they wore,
I could not regret having watched
over and laboured to relieve
them; - that, if he had married
a richer wife, misfortunes and
trials would no doubt have come
upon him still; while I am egotist
enough to imagine that no other
woman could have cheered him
through them so well: not that
I am superior to the rest, but
I was made for him, and he for
me; and I can no more repent
the hours, days, years of happiness
we have spent together, and which
neither could have had without
the other, than I can the privilege
of having been his nurse in sickness,
and his comfort in affliction.
'Will this do, children? -
or shall I say we are all very
sorry for what has happened during
the last thirty years, and my
daughters wish they had never
been born; but since they have
had that misfortune, they will
be thankful for any trifle their
grandpapa will be kind enough
to bestow?'
Of course, we both applauded
our mother's resolution; Mary
cleared away the breakfast things;
I brought the desk; the letter
was quickly written and despatched;
and, from that day, we heard
no more of our grandfather, till
we saw his death announced in
the newspaper a considerable
time after - all his worldly
possessions, of course, being
left to our wealthy unknown cousins.
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