r. effingham was always an early riser. the next morning he was earlier than usual, and had not only commenced his breakfast, but concluded it, and gone off to his business eastward, before any of the ladies, except his wife, had made their appearance in the breakfast-room. want of punctuality in her step-daughters was one of the evils which clemence longed, though in vain, to reform. lady selina’s example not only excused it, but rendered it in a certain degree fashionable in the family. “it is for slaves to be tied down to hours!” exclaimed arabella, on a gentle hint being once ventured by clemence; “only dull mechanics, whose time is their bread, count their minutes as they would count their coppers!”
clemence was not, however, mr. effingham’s only companion at his early meal. the jovial captain, full of merriment and good-humour, and disposed to do full justice to the ham and an unlimited number of eggs, performed his part at the table. his niece would have been extremely diverted by his na?ve observations on the events of the previous evening—observations which showed at once natural shrewdness and the most absolute ignorance of fashionable life—had she not feared that his boisterous heartiness of manner might be disagreeable to her husband. mr. effingham was perfectly polite, but did not look disposed to be amused. he appeared hardly to hear the jokes of the captain, and hurried over his breakfast with a thoughtful, pre-occupied air.
clemence’s own mind was often wandering to the subject of mademoiselle lafleur, and she contemplated with some uneasiness and fear the effect which would be produced on her circle by the announcement of that lady’s dismissal. she also felt anxious as to the footing on which her dear old relative would stand in the proud family to which she had been united by marriage. in him a new and very vulnerable point seemed presented to the shafts of malice which were constantly levelled at herself. his very simplicity and unconsciousness of insult made her doubly sensitive on his account, and many a plan clemence turned over in her mind for guarding him from the well-bred rudeness which none knew better than lady selina how to show to one whom she despised. mrs. effingham’s reflections made her more silent and grave than had been her wont. “she is not such a good talker as she used to be,” thought the old uncle; “nor such a good listener neither, for the matter of that!”
captain thistlewood found, however, both a ready talker and listener when louisa entered the room. the young lady, if the truth must be confessed, regarded the merry old sailor as rather an acquisition to the circle. he noticed her much, and louisa would rather have been censured than unnoticed; he amused her, and love of amusement was one of her ruling passions. she could laugh with him when he was present, and at him when he was absent. louisa imagined herself a wit; and what so needful to a wit as a butt! her morning greeting to him was given with an air of coquettish levity, which contrasted with arabella’s sullen silence, and lady selina’s frigid politeness.
“and what did you think of our party, captain thistlewood?” inquired louisa, as the old sailor gallantly handed to her the cup of chocolate which clemence had prepared.
“well, it was good enough in its way, only too many kickshaws handed about, and too many lackeys behind the table to whip off the plate from before you, if you chanced to look round at a neighbour. i must say that your london society is a stiff, formal sort of thing. it reminds one of those swindling pieces of goods which tradesmen pass off on the unwary—all dress, you see, just stiffened and smoothed to sell, and not to wear. only give the gentility a good hearty pull, and the powder flies up in your face!”
“i suppose that yesterday was the first time that he ever sat at a gentleman’s table!” muttered arabella inaudibly to herself; but the thought expressed itself in her face.
“if there’s any powder about that young lass it’s gunpowder!” thought the captain; “we may look out for an explosion by-and-by—i see she’s primed for a volley. but i’ll try a little conciliation for may-blossom’s sake—hang out a flag of truce. no wonder that my poor child looks grave and pale;—a pretty life she must have of it here, with an iceberg on the one side and a volcano on the other!” all the more determined to draw arabella into conversation, from marking her haughty reserve, captain thistlewood rested his knife and fork perpendicularly on either side of his plate, and addressed her across the table.
“we’re coming near to christmas now. i like the merry old season, and i shall be glad to see for once how christmas is kept in london. i noticed many a jolly dinner hanging up in the butchers’ and poulterers’ shops as i passed along in the ’bus; quite a sight they are, those shops—turkeys strung on long lines, as though they were so many larks; and huge joints of beef, that, for their size, might have been cut from elephants! glorious they look in the flaring gas-light, decked out with whole shrubberies of holly! then the pretty little christmas-trees, hung with tapers and gim-cracks—they pleased me mightily too; for, thinks i, there’ll be plenty of harmless fun, plenty of laughing young faces round those trees, when the tapers are lighted! i love to see children happy, and ’specially the children of the poor. shall i tell you my notion of a good christmas-tree?” arabella looked as though she did not care to hear it, but the captain took it for granted that she did. “i’d have a tree as big as the biggest of those yonder in the square, and invite all the ragged little urchins far and near to the lighting of the same. i’d have it hung, not with sparkling thing-a-bobs, or sugar trash in funny shapes, not even with sham peaches,” he added, laughing, “but with good solid joints of meat for blossoms, and warm winter jackets for leaves; and i’ll be bound that every child would think my tree the very finest that he ever had seen in his life. don’t you call that uniting the ornamental with the useful?”
“the idea shows so much elegance, so much refinement of taste,” replied arabella, with satirical emphasis, “that it will doubtless be instantly carried out by mrs. effingham.”
there was something in the tone in which the name was pronounced which stung the old sailor as no personal rudeness to himself could have done. as a single word will sometimes suffice to rouse a whole train of associations, startle a host of ideas into life, the name “mrs. effingham,” so pronounced by her step-daughter, conjured up before the warm-hearted old man a picture coloured indeed, by fancy, but not without an outline of truth. his sweet clemence was not loved and valued in her home; she, his darling, his heart’s delight, was looked down upon by those who should have deemed it an honour to sun themselves in her smile! such was the suspicion which flashed out into words of sudden indignation.
“mrs. effingham! and pray who may she be? i see here my niece, your father’s wife, your mother by marriage; but no one whom you or i can either speak or think of as ‘mrs. effingham!’”
the most insolent in temper are usually those who have least courage to back their insolence. those who delight in wounding the sensitive and brow-beating the timid, when they find their weapon crossed by another, when they become aware that their shafts may be returned on themselves, often are the first to draw back from the contest so wantonly provoked. arabella was startled into a momentary confusion; and her opponent, who carried “anger as the flint bears fire,” at once recovered his usual temper. the captain was aware that he had given way to a burst that had been scarcely called for by anything actually uttered; he had, perhaps, been too ready to imagine an affront where no such thing was intended.
“forgive an old man’s vehemence,” he said frankly; “i got my ideas in the last century, and they may by this time be quite old-fashioned. there are many, i take it, who scarcely know what to call a step-mother at first, especially one so young. for once i think that the french have hit on a better title than our own. it must sound odd enough applied to many; but here is a case where belle-mère is quite appropriate,”—he glanced fondly at his niece; then added, bowing gallantly to louisa, “and also the title of belle-fille.”
the thunder-cloud only gathered blacker on the brow of arabella, but louisa tittered and gaily replied, “i have often wondered why our french neighbours should make such a spell of marriage—to turn connections on both sides into beauties, brothers, old fathers, and all! i’ll ask mademoiselle for the derivation of the term. by-the-by,” added louisa, addressing clemence, “on what day does mademoiselle come back?”
it was an unfortunate question at that moment. the flush which rose to the cheek of clemence, her little pause before she replied, fixed every eye upon her. the young wife felt like one about to fire a train, when she answered, “mademoiselle is not coming back at all.”
“not coming back!” exclaimed both girls at once. “not coming back!” echoed lady selina, in accents of unfeigned surprise. clemence knew that some explanation was required, and she gave it, in a tone as firm as she could command. “mr. effingham and i have, after due reflection, decided on making a change. we have very sufficient reasons, and i trust—”
but the train had been fired indeed, and before clemence could finish her sentence there was an unmistakable explosion! not that the governess had in reality attached to herself any one present, or that her pupils actually looked upon her dismissal as a personal misfortune; but a good handle was suddenly offered to the hand of malice,—“the war of independence” had required its watchword and its martyr, and the maligned, persecuted mademoiselle served at once for both. arabella’s smothered indignation could now creditably boil over in wrath, and a torrent of invective burst forth, swelled by louisa’s passionate exclamations. but most formidable was the awful dignity with which lady selina rose from her seat, adding her broken sentences of calm indignation: “strange, mysterious, incomprehensible proceeding!”—“personal insult to myself!”—“one who had selected that lady on the highest recommendations, who for years had reposed the utmost confidence in that lady, and who had ever found her more than justify that trust, not to be consulted on a step so important!” the very dress of lady selina seemed to rustle and tremble with offended pride. how could the timid, sensitive clemence stand her ground against such an overwhelming avalanche of opposition?
she had but one ally present, and her dread was lest he should come to her aid. the veins on the captain’s forehead were growing very large and his cheek very red; he glanced hurriedly, and almost fiercely, from one assailant to the other, as a lion might when encompassed by the hounds, only doubting in which quarter to make his spring. but none of the enemy awaited the attack; lady selina and her nieces all quitted the apartment, to excite each other to fiercer wrath against the household tyrant, who had dared, by such an unwarrantable act of independence, to bid defiance to the clique!
“if ever i heard anything like this!” exclaimed captain thistlewood, striking the table with vehemence; “the insolence, the audacity of these young shrews!—the malice of that cantankerous old dame! you must be protected from them, clemence. i’ll after and tell them—”
“o uncle, dear uncle, let them go!” exclaimed clemence, holding the captain’s arm to prevent his sudden exit from the room; “you cannot help me, indeed you cannot; it will blow over, it will—”
“blow over!” thundered the veteran, trying to extricate himself from her hold; “such a tornado may blow over indeed, but it will first blow you out of your senses! i’m glad i came here—i’m heartily glad. i’ll not have you exposed to this; i’ll—”
“uncle!” cried clemence nervously, “any movement on your part would only make matters a thousand times worse. for my sake be calm—be composed. there is nothing from which i so shrink as quarrels and dissensions in the house. let us have peace—”
“peace!” exclaimed the indignant captain; “lay down our arms—strike our flag to such viragoes as these! no; if your husband has not the spirit to keep these termagants in order—”
“if you would not make me miserable,” cried clemence, “leave me and mr. effingham to smooth and settle things by ourselves. you cannot imagine the evil that might arise from the interference even of one so kind, and good, and loving as yourself! be persuaded, dear uncle, be persuaded; take no notice of what has occurred.”
it was with considerable difficulty that clemence succeeded to a certain degree in quieting the old man’s excitement. she persuaded him at length to leave the house for a few hours, in order to visit some london sights, knowing well that the sailor’s anger, though it might be warm, was never enduring. it was with a sense of real relief that she heard the hall door close behind him; and she earnestly hoped that he might find so much amusement that he would not return until mr. effingham had come back from his business in the city.
captain thistlewood.
page 91.
before clemence had had breathing time in which to recover from the excitement of the last painful scene, one of her footmen entered the room, with two envelopes on a silver salver. as mrs. effingham mechanically took them up, he informed her that mrs. ventner wished to speak to her for a few minutes.
the interview it is unnecessary to describe. from the first hour that the housekeeper had discovered that she had not a mere puppet to deal with, that her mistress could overlook accounts and detect inaccuracies, from that hour she had made up her mind that the same house could not hold them both. mrs. ventner had plundered enough from her master, during lady selina’s careless reign, to make her, as she believed, independent; and, knowing that her books would not bear the close scrutiny which had probably been only postponed till the party should be over, and perhaps alarmed by the tidings which had now spread through the house that mademoiselle had been dismissed at a moment’s notice, she resolved to avoid sharing the same fate by anticipating it, and gave her young mistress warning.
clemence received the communication, to outward appearance, with great composure, but her spirits were fluttered and her mind oppressed; and when she had sought the quiet of her own room, she sat for some time in an attitude of listless thought, before remembering to examine the contents of the envelopes which she had carried unopened in her hand.
only bills—uninteresting bills; and yet not so uninteresting neither, or there would not be that slight tremble in the fingers that grasp them, or that faint line on the fair brow so smooth but a minute before. these are the milliner’s and dressmaker’s bills; and the courage of clemence is failing her, as she glances down the long line, and sums up the amount again and again, with ever-lessening hope that there may be some error in the calculation. clemence had no fixed allowance assigned her; but her husband, soon after their marriage, had replenished her slender purse with a sum so large, that it had appeared to her almost inexhaustible. clemence had a generous heart, and loved to give with a liberal hand. she had expended money very freely upon others, before becoming aware how much her personal expenses were now likely to exceed the narrow limits within which they had hitherto been restrained. she had, however, reserved what she had hoped would be sufficient to defray the two bills now before her, the only ones yet unpaid. but the young girl, brought up in rural seclusion and ignorance of the fashionable world, had formed a most incorrect estimate of rich velvet dresses, and mantillas trimmed with costly fur, handkerchiefs edged with the delicate productions of mechlin or brussels—beautiful trifles, upon which luxury lavishes her gold so freely, and which yet contribute so little to actual enjoyment. clemence had little more than sufficient money left to clear her debt to the milliner; madame la voye’s heavy bill lay before her, a weight upon her conscience as well as her spirits.
“what will vincent think—my noble, generous-hearted husband—when he knows of my folly and selfish extravagance? not three months married, and already in debt, deeply in debt—in debt for the mere vanities of dress! oh! he never would have deemed his wife capable of acting so unworthy a part. how shall i confess to him that his liberality has led me into such extravagance—that his trusting love has met with such a return! and he has been looking anxious and careworn of late; the thought has even crossed my mind that business concerns may not be prospering—that he may be uneasy as regards his affairs. oh! if it should be so, and if i—vain, weak, thoughtless—should have added, to his cares instead of lightening them!” the idea was to clemence almost unbearable; bitter self-reproach added its keen pang to those of anxious care and wounded feeling; and it was some time before she could calm her agitated spirits, or look her difficulties fairly in the face.
when clemence quitted her apartment, she was suddenly met on the staircase by young vincent, who had reached home about an hour previously, though, absorbed in her own painful reflections, she had not noticed the sound of an arrival. a joyful exclamation of welcome was on her lips, but her first glance at the face of the boy was sufficient to check its utterance. giving her a look, in which dislike, scorn, and defiance were mingled, vincent brushed past his step-mother without saying a word. and this was the son whom her heart had learned already to love—the son on whom she had built such hopes—in whose countenance she had traced such a resemblance to his father—who bore his name, and, as she trusted, would bear his character—the only member of her husband’s family who had given her anything approaching to a welcome. the disappointment came at a moment when the spirit of clemence was wounded by unkindness and depressed by self-reproach. this last drop of bitterness made her cup overflow. she returned to her own room with a hurried step, and throwing herself on her sofa, buried her face in her hands, and gave way to a burst of tears.
