<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</SPAN></h2>
<h3>SETTLING DOWN.</h3>
<p>These alarms, however, did not come to anything,
and as the days passed on Mrs. John accustomed
herself to her new position and settled down to it
quietly. She got used to the little meetings in the
summer-house or on the bench in front of her own
windows, and soon learned to remark with the others
upon the freedom with which Mr. Mildmay Vernon
took the best place, not taking any trouble to remark
to whom it really belonged. He was a great advantage
to the ladies of the Vernonry in giving them
a subject upon which they could always be eloquent.
Even when they could not talk of it openly, they
would give each other little looks aside, with many
nods of the head and an occasional biting innuendo;
and this amused the ladies wonderfully, and kept
them perhaps now and then from criticising each
other, as such close neighbours could scarcely fail to
do. But even more interesting than Mr. Mildmay
Vernon and his mannish selfishness was Catherine,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</SPAN></span>
the universal subject on which they could fraternise
even with Mildmay Vernon himself. He was caustic,
and attacked her keenly; but the sisters never
failed to profess a great affection for their cousin,
declaring that from Catherine one accepted anything,
since one felt that it was only her <i>gauche</i> way
of doing things, or the fault of her education, but
that she always meant well. Dear Catherine! it
was such a pity, they said. Mrs. John never quite
adopted either style of remark, but the subject was
endless, and always afforded something to say; and
there was a little pleasure in hearing Catherine set
down from her superior place, even though a gentler
disposition and simpler mind prevented Mrs. John
herself from adding to the felicities of the discussion.
Catherine had taken no notice of the unlucky beginning
which had given so much alarm to Mrs. John,
and so much amusement to the other members of
the establishment. When she came in state to call
on the mourner, which she did a few days after, with
that amused toleration of the little weaknesses of her
dependents which was as natural in Catherine's
position as the eager and somewhat spiteful discussion
of her was in theirs, Miss Vernon had tapped
Hester on the cheek, and said, "This is the good
child who would not let me disturb her mother."
But when Mrs. John began to apologise and explain,
Catherine had stopped her, saying, "She was quite
right," with a decisive brevity, and turning to
another subject. The magnanimity of this would
have touched Hester's heart, but for the half-mocking<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</SPAN></span>
smile and air of amusement with which it was
said, and which made the girl much angrier than
before. It cannot be denied that this was to some
extent the tone unconsciously adopted by Catherine
in her dealings with the poor relations who were so
largely indebted to her bounty. There was a great
deal that was ridiculous in their little affectations
and discontents, and the half-resentment, half-exaction
with which they received her benefits.
These might have made her close her heart against
them, and turned her into a misanthrope; but
though the effect produced was different from this,
it was not perhaps more desirable. Catherine,
though she did not become misanthropical, became
cynical, in spite of herself. She tolerated everything,
and smiled at it; she became indulgent and
contemptuous. What did it matter what they said
or felt? If they learned to consider her gifts as
their right, if they comforted themselves in the
humiliation of receiving by mocking at the giver,
poor things, that was their misfortune—it did not
harm her upon her serene heights. She laughed at
Hester, tapping her cheek. Had she been perhaps
less tolerant, less easy to satisfy, she would not have
excited that burning sense of shame and resentment
in the girl's heart.</p>
<p>But Catherine was very kind. She came in the
afternoon in the carriage and took them out with
her for a drive, to the admiration of all beholders.
The Miss Vernon-Ridgways inspected this from
behind their curtains, and calculated how long it<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</SPAN></span>
was since Catherine had shown such a civility to
themselves, and how soon Mrs. John would find out
the brief character of these attentions. And the
drive was perhaps not quite so successful as might
have been expected. Mrs. John indeed gave her
relative all the entertainment she could have
desired. She became tearful, and fell away altogether
into her pocket-handkerchief at almost every
turn of the road, saying, "Ah, how well I remember!"
then emerged from the cambric cloud,
and cheered up again till the next turn came, in a
way which would have afforded Catherine great
amusement but for the two blazing, indignant, angry
eyes of Hester fixed from the opposite side upon
her mother's foolish little pantomime and her
patroness's genial satisfaction, with equal fury, pain,
and penetration. Hester could not endure the
constant repetition of that outburst of pathos, the
smiles that would follow, the sudden relapse as her
mother was recalled by a new recollection to a sense
of what was necessary in her touching position; but
still less could she bear the lurking smile in Catherine
Vernon's eyes, and her inclination to draw the
poor lady out, sometimes even by a touch of what
Hester felt to be mock-sympathy. The girl could
scarcely contain herself as she drove along facing
these two ladies, seeing, even against her will, a
great deal which perhaps they themselves were only
half-conscious of. Oh, why would mother be so
silly! and Cousin Catherine, this rich woman who
had them all in her power, why had she not more<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</SPAN></span>
respect for weakness? Hester turned with an angry
longing to her idea of putting her own small young
figure between her mother and all those spurns and
scoffs, of carrying her away, and working for her,
and owing nothing to anybody.</p>
<p>When they stopped at the door of Kaley's, the
great shop of Redborough, and half-a-dozen obsequious
attendants started out to devote themselves
to the lightest suggestion of the great Miss Vernon,
Mrs. John cleared up, and enjoyed the reflected distinction
to the bottom of her heart; but Hester, pale
and furious, compelled to sit there as part of the
pageant, could scarcely keep still, and was within an
ace of jumping out of the carriage and dragging her
mother after her, so indignant was she, so humiliated.
Cousin Catherine threw a little <i>fichu</i> of black lace
into the girl's lap, with a careless, liberal, "You want
something for your neck, Hester," which the girl
would have thrown at her had she dared; and it
would not have taken much to wind her up to that
point of daring: but Mrs. John went home quite
pleased with her outing. "It was a melancholy
pleasure, to be sure," she said. "All those places
I used to know so well before you were born, Hester—and
Kaley's, where I used to spend so much
money. But, after all, it is a pleasure to come
back among the people that know you. Mr. Kaley
was so very civil; did you notice? I think he paid
more attention to me even than to Catherine; of
course he remembered that as long as I was well off
I always used to go there for everything. It was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</SPAN></span>
very sad, but I am glad to have done it. And then
Catherine was so kind. Let me see that pretty lace
thing she gave you? It is exactly what you wanted.
You must be sure to put it on when we go there to-morrow
to luncheon." Hester would have liked to
tear it in pieces and throw it in Miss Vernon's face;
but her mother regarded everything from a very
different point of view.</p>
<p>Catherine Vernon, on her side, talked a great deal
to Edward that evening of the comical scene, and
how she could not get the advantage of poor Mrs.
John's little <i>minauderies</i> because of that child with
her two big eyes. "I was afraid to stir for her. I
scarcely dared to say a word. I expected every
moment to be called to give an account of myself,"
she said. It added very much to her enjoyment of
all the humours of her life that she had this companion
to tell them to. He was her confidant, and
heard everything with the tenderest interest and a
great many amusing comments of his own. Certainly
in this one particular at least her desire to be
of use to her relations had met with a rich reward.
No son was ever more attentive to his mother: and
all his habits were so <i>nice</i> and good. A young man
who gets up to botanise in the morning, who will sit
at home at night, who has no evil inclinations—how
delightful he is to the female members of his family,
and with what applause and gratitude they repay
him for his goodness! And Miss Vernon felt the
force of that additional family bond which arises
from the fact that all the interests of the household,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</SPAN></span>
different as their age and pursuits may be, are
the same. Nothing that concerned the one but
must have an interest for the other. Perhaps
Edward did not speak so much about himself, or
even about the business, which was naturally of the
first interest to her, as he might have done, but she
had scarcely as yet found this out: and certainly
he entered into all she told him on her side with
the most confidential fulness. "The Vernonry has
always been as good as a comedy," she said. "I
have to be so cautious not to offend them. And I
must be on my ps and qs with this little girl. There
is a great deal of fun to be got out of her; but we
must keep it strictly to ourselves."</p>
<p>"Oh, strictly!" said Edward, with a curious little
twist about the corners of his mouth. He had not
told the story of his own encounter with the new
subject of amusement, which was strange; but he
was a young man who kept his own counsel, having
his own fortune to make, as had been impressed
upon him from his birth.</p>
<p>There were only two other members of the Vernon
community with whom the strangers had not yet
made acquaintance (for as has been already said
Mrs. Reginald Vernon, the young widow who was
altogether wrapped up in her four children, and
old Captain and Mrs. Morgan on the west side of the
Vernonry scarcely counted at all), and these were
its gayest and most brilliant members, the present
dwellers in the White House, Harry and Ellen
Vernon, the most independent of all the little<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</SPAN></span>
community. Stories were current in it that Harry
in business matters had begun to set himself in
something like opposition to Catherine Vernon not
long after she had given up the conduct of the bank
into his hands: while Ellen detached herself openly
from her Aunt Catherine's court, and had set up a
sort of Princess of Wales's drawing-room of her own.
It was some time before they appeared at the
Vernonry, Harry driving his sister in a phaeton
with a pair of high-stepping horses which seemed
scarcely to touch the ground. The whole population
of the place was stirred by the appearance of this
brilliant equipage. Mrs. Reginald Vernon's little
boy, though bound under solemn penalties never
to enter the gardens, came round and hung upon
the gate to gaze. Even old Captain Morgan rose
from his window to take another look. Mr. Mildmay
Vernon came out with his newspaper in his hand,
and if the sisters did not appear, it was not from
want of curiosity but because Ellen Vernon had
not received their civilities when she came to
Redborough with the cordiality they had a right to
expect. Catherine Vernon's fine sleek horses made
no such impression as did this dashing pair. And
the pair who descended from the phaeton were as
dashing as their steeds. Ellen was very fair, with
hair half flaxen half golden, in light little curls like
a baby's upon her forehead, which was not the
fashion in those days and therefore much more
effective. She was dressed in a rich red-purple
gown, charitably supposed to be "second mourning"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</SPAN></span>
by the addition of a little lace and a black ribbon,
with yards of silken train sweeping after her, and
sweeping up too all the mats at the doors as she
went in. Harry was in the lightest of light clothes,
but he had a tiny hat-band supposed to answer all
necessities in the way of "respect" to John Vernon
deceased, or to John's widow living. Hester standing
shyly by, thought this new cousin Ellen the most
beautiful creature she had ever seen; her daintiness
and her fineness, her airy fairness of face, set off by
the rich colour of her dress, was dazzling as she
came into the brown room, with its two inhabitants
in mourning, and the tall, light-coloured young man
after her. Mrs. John made them her little curtsey,
shook hands with them, gave her greeting and a smile
or two, and then had recourse to her handkerchief.</p>
<p>"Oh yes, thanks," she said, "I have quite settled
down. I am very comfortable, but everything is so
changed. To go away from the White House where
I had everything I wished for, and then to come
back—here; it is a great difference."</p>
<p>"Oh, but this is so much nicer than the White
House," cried Ellen; "this is so delightfully old
fashioned! I would give the world to have the
Vernonry. If Aunt Catherine had only given it to
us when we came here and taken the White House
for the——" pensioners she was about to say, but
paused in time—"other relations! I should have
liked it so much better, and probably so would
you."</p>
<p>Mrs. John shook her head.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I never could have gone back to it in the same
circumstances," she said, "and therefore I would
prefer not to go to it at all."</p>
<p>"But oh, you must come and see me!" said
Ellen; "and you too," turning to Hester. "I am
so fond of getting among little girls and feeling
myself quite young again. Come and spend a long
day with me, won't you? I will show you all my
things, and Harry shall drive us out, if you like
driving. May she come? We have always something
going on. Aunt Catherine's is the old set,
and ours is the young set," she said with a laugh.
She spoke with a little accompaniment of chains
and bracelets, a soft jingle as of harness, about her,
being very lively and full of little gestures—pretty
bridlings of her head and movements of her hands.</p>
<p>Harry behind backed her up, as seemed to be
his duty.</p>
<p>"She is dreadfully wild," he said; "she would
like to be always on the go."</p>
<p>"Oh, Harry, nothing of the sort; but if we don't
enjoy ourselves when we are young, when are we to
do it? And then I say it is good policy, don't you
think so, Mrs. Vernon? You see we are just like
shopkeepers, all the people hereabouts are our
customers. And Aunt Catherine gives big dinners
for the old fogeys, but we do just as much good,
keeping the young ones jolly; and we keep ourselves
jolly too."</p>
<p>"Indeed, Miss Ellen," said Mrs. John, with some
dignity, "I never heard such an idea that bankers<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</SPAN></span>
were like shopkeepers. Catherine must have made
great changes indeed if it is like that. It never was
so in my time."</p>
<p>"Oh," said Ellen, "you were too grand to allow it,
that is all, but it is the fashion now to speak plain."
And she laughed, and Harry laughed as if it had
been the best joke in the world. "But we mustn't
say so before Aunt Catherine," cried the gay young
woman. "She disapproves of us both as it is.
Perhaps not so much of Harry, for she likes the
boys best, you know; but oh, dreadfully of me!
If you want to keep in favour with Aunt Catherine—isn't
your name Hester?"</p>
<p>"I don't," said Hester, abruptly, without further
question.</p>
<p>"Oh, Harry, look here, here's another rebel! isn't
it fun? I thought you were nice from the very first
look of you," and here Ellen rose with a still greater
jingle of all her trappings and touched with her
own delicate fair cheek the darker oval of Hester's,
which coloured high with shyness and pleasure.
"I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll come for you one of
these days. Are you doing lessons now? What
are you learning? Oh, she may have a holiday for
one day?"</p>
<p>"That is just what I ought to be inquiring about,"
said Mrs. John. "A governess—I am afraid I am
not able to carry her on myself. I have taught
her," the poor lady said with pride, "all she
knows."</p>
<p>Hester listened with a gasp of astonishment.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</SPAN></span>
What Mrs. John meant was all she knew herself,
which was not much. And how about her teaching
and her independence and the <i>cours</i> she felt herself
ready to open? She was obliged to overcome her
shyness and explain herself.</p>
<p>"I don't want to learn," she said, "I want to
teach. I can speak French, and Italian, and German.
I want to open a <i>cours</i>; don't you think I might
open a <i>cours</i>? I know that I could teach, for I am
so fond of it, and I want something to do." Having
got all this out like a sudden shot from a gun,
Hester stopped short, got behind her mother, and
was heard no more.</p>
<p>"Oh!" cried Ellen, "teach! that little thing!"
and then she turned to her brother, "Isn't it fine?"
she said; "it would be a shame to stop her when
she wishes it. French and Italian and German,
only fancy. I don't know what a <i>cours</i> is, but
whatever it is you shall have it, dear. I promise
you. Certainly you shall have it. I will not have
you kept back for the want of that."</p>
<p>Hester was a great deal too much excited to laugh,
and here Mrs. John interfered. "You must excuse
me," she said, nervously. "Do not think I don't
feel the kindness. Oh, you must excuse me! I
could not let her teach. My poor husband would
never have suffered it for a moment. And what
would Catherine say?—a Vernon! Oh, no, no! it
is impossible; there is nothing I would not rather
do. She has spoken of it before: but I thought it
only childish nonsense. Oh, no, no! thank Heaven,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</SPAN></span>
though we are poor," cried the poor lady, "and
fallen from what we were—we are not fallen so
far as that."</p>
<p>"Oh, but it isn't falling at all," said Ellen; "you
see you are old-fashioned. Don't be angry. I don't
mean any harm. But don't you know it is the
fashion now for girls to do something? Oh, but
it is though! the best girls do it; they paint, and
they do needlework, and they sing, and they write
little books, and everybody is proud to be able to
earn money. It is only when they are clever that
they can teach; and then they are so proud! Oh,
I assure you, Mrs. Vernon! I would not say so if it
were not quite the right thing. You know, Harry,
people do it in town constantly. Lady Mannion's
daughter mends old lace, and Mrs. Markham paints
things for the shops. It is the fashion; the very
best families do it. It will be quite aristocratic to
have a Vernon teaching. I shall take lessons myself."</p>
<p>"That's the thing," said the good-natured Harry.
"Nell, that's the best thing. She shall teach you
and me."</p>
<p>"Oh, he wants to make a hole-and-corner thing of
it," said Ellen, "to hide it up! How silly boys are!
when it is the very height of the fashion and will
bring us into notice directly! There is old Lady
Freeling will take her up at once: and the Duchess.
You may do whatever you please, but I will stand
by her. You may count upon me, Hester, I will
stand by you through thick and thin. You will be
quite a heroine: everybody will take you up."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Mrs. John looked from one to the other aghast.
"Oh, no, no, pardon me; but Hester—I cannot
sanction it, I cannot sanction it; your poor papa—"
faltered Mrs. John.</p>
<p>It was characteristic that in the very midst of this
discussion Ellen Vernon got up with all the ringing
of her caparison, and took her leave, declaring that
she had forgotten that she had to go somewhere at
four o'clock, "and you know the horses will not
stand, Harry," she said, "but whenever we are happy
anywhere, we forget all our engagements—we are
two such sillies, Harry and I." She put her arm
round Hester's waist as they went through the
passage, and kissed her again at the door. "Mind,
you are to come and spend a long, long day with
me," she said. Mrs. John interrupted in the midst
of her remonstrances, and not sure that this dazzling
creature would not drive off straight somewhere or
other to establish Hester in her <i>cours</i>, followed after
them trying to put in another word. But Ellen had
been placed in her seat, and her dust-cloak arranged
round her, before the poor lady could say anything.
And she too stood spell-bound like all the rest, to
see the beautiful young couple in their grandeur, so
fair, so handsome, so perfectly got up. The only
fault that their severest critic could find with them
was that they were too fair; their very eyelashes
were flaxen, there were no contrasts in their smooth
fair faces; but this in conjunction with so much
youth and daintiness had a charm of its own. Mr.
Mildmay Vernon had been watching for them at the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</SPAN></span>
window, losing all the good of his book, which was
from the circulating library and cost twopence a
night; consequently he threw away at least the half
of a farthing waiting for the young people to come
out. When they appeared again he went to his
door, taking off the soft old felt hat which he wore
habitually out of doors and in, and kissing his hand—not
it is to be feared very much to his advantage,
for these two fine young folks paid little attention to
their poor relations. The Miss Vernon-Ridgways
looked out behind their curtains watching closely.
How fine it is to be young and rich and beautiful
and on the top of the wave! With what admiration
all your dependents look upon you. Every one in
the Vernonry was breathless with excitement when
Harry took the reins and the groom left the horses'
heads, and the phaeton wheeled round. The little
boys at the gate scattered as it wheeled out, the
small Vernons vindicating their gentility and relationship
by standing straight in the way of the
horses. And with what a whirl and dash they
turned round the sweep of the road, and disappeared
from the longing view! Mildmay Vernon
who had taken such trouble to get a glance from
them crossed over to the door of the verandah where
Mrs. John, with the streamers of her cap blowing
about her, and her mind as much disturbed as her
capstrings, stood still breathless watching the departure.
"Well," he said, "so you've had the Prince
and Princess in all their grandeur." Mrs. John had
to take a moment to collect herself before she could<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</SPAN></span>
even make out what he had said. As for Hester,
she was so dazzled by this visit, her head and her
heart so beating and throbbing, that she was incapable
of putting up with the conversation which
always made her wicked. She ran away, leaving her
mother at the door, and flew to her own room to
recollect all that had passed, and to go over it again
and again as lovers do. She put her hands over her
eyes and lived over again that moment, and every
detail of Cousin Ellen's appearance and every word
she had said. The jingle of her chains and trinkets
seemed to Hester like silver bells, a pretty individualism
and sign of her presence. If she went
into a dark room or if you were blind, Hester
thought, you would know by that that it was she.
And the regal colour of her dress, and the black
lace of her bonnet all puffed about those wonderful
light locks, and her dainty shoes and her delicate
gloves, and everything about her! "A long, long
day," and "You may count upon me, Hester." Was
it possible that a creature so dazzling, so triumphant,
had spoken such words to her? Her heart was
more elated than it had ever been before in her
life. And as for the work which she had made up
her mind to do, for the first time it seemed possible
and feasible. Cousin Ellen would arrange it for her.
She was far too much excited and awed to be able
to laugh at the mistake Cousin Ellen had made in
her haste about buying a <i>cours</i> for Hester, not
knowing in the least what it meant. In this
way with all sincerity the dazzled worshippers of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</SPAN></span>
greatness lose their perception of the ridiculous in
the persons of those who have seized upon their imaginations.
Hester would have been revolted and
angered had any one noted this ludicrous particular
in the conversation. Through the open window the
girl heard the voices of her mother and the neighbours,
now including the sharp voice of Miss Vernon-Ridgway,
and the sound made her heart rise with a
kind of indignant fury. They would discuss her as
if they had any understanding of such a creature, as
if they knew what they were speaking about! they,
old, poor, spiteful as they were, and she so beautiful,
so young, so splendid, and so kind. "The kindness
was the chief thing," Hester said to herself, putting
her fingers in her ears not to hear the ill-nature
down stairs. Oh, of course, they would be taking
her to pieces, pouring their gall upon her! Hester
felt that youth and happiness were on her own side
as against the envious and old and poor.</p>
<p>For days after she looked in vain for the reappearance
of that heavenly vision, every morning getting
up with the conviction that by noon at least it would
appear, every afternoon making up her mind that
the dulness of the lingering hours would be brightened
by the sound, the flash, the wind of rapid
movement, the same delightful voice, the perfumed
fair cheek, the jingle of the golden caparisons.
Every day Mrs. John said, first cheerfully, then
querulously, "I wonder if they will come for you to-day."
When it began to dawn upon Hester at last
that they were not coming, the sense of deception<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</SPAN></span>
which came over her was, in some sort, like the
pangs of death. She stood still, in her very being
astounded, unable to understand what had happened.
They <i>were not coming again</i>. Her very heart stood
still, and all the wheels of her existence in a blank
pause like death. When they began to move again
reluctantly, hoarsely, Hester felt too sick and faint
for any conscious comment upon what had happened.
She could not bear the commentary which she was
almost forced to hear, and which she thought would
kill her—the "Poor child! so you've been expecting
Ellen Vernon?" which Miss Matilda next door said
to her with an insulting laugh, almost drove her
frantic. And not much less aggravating to the sensitive
girl were her mother's frequent wonderings
what could have become of them, whether Ellen could
be ill, what had happened. "They said they would
come and fetch you to spend a day with them,
didn't they? Then why don't they come, Hester?—why
don't they come?" the poor lady said.
Hester's anger and wretchedness and nervous irritation
were such that she could almost have struck
her mother. Was it right, in addition to her own
disappointment, that she should have this question
thrust upon her, and that all the pangs of
her first disenchantment should be discussed by contemptuous
spectators? This terrible experience,
which seemed to Hester to be branded upon her as
by red-hot irons, made a woman of her all at once.
To her own consciousness, at least, she was a child
no more.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />