CHAPTER XVI.
WHITSUNTIDE.
The fund prospered. By dint of Miss Keeldar's example, the threerectors' vigorous exertions, and the efficient though quiet aid of theirspinster and spectacled lieutenants, Mary Ann Ainley and Margaret Hall,a handsome sum was raised; and this being judiciously managed, servedfor the present greatly to alleviate the distress of the unemployedpoor. The neighbourhood seemed to grow calmer. For a fortnight past nocloth had been destroyed; no outrage on mill or mansion had beencommitted in the three parishes. Shirley was sanguine that the evil shewished to avert was almost escaped, that the threatened storm waspassing over. With the approach of summer she felt certain that tradewould improve--it always did; and then this weary war could not last forever; peace must return one day. With peace, what an impulse would begiven to commerce!
Such was the usual tenor of her observations to her tenant, GerardMoore, whenever she met him where they could converse; and Moore wouldlisten very quietly--too quietly to satisfy her. She would then by herimpatient glance demand something more from him--some explanation, or atleast some additional remark. Smiling in his way, with that expressionwhich gave a remarkable cast of sweetness to his mouth, while his browremained grave, he would answer to the effect that himself too trustedin the finite nature of the war; that it was indeed on that ground theanchor of his hopes was fixed; thereon his speculations depended. "Foryou are aware," he would continue, "that I now work Hollow's Millentirely on speculation. I sell nothing; there is no market for mygoods. I manufacture for a future day. I make myself ready to takeadvantage of the first opening that shall occur. Three months ago thiswas impossible to me; I had exhausted both credit and capital. You wellknow who came to my rescue, from what hand I received the loan whichsaved me. It is on the strength of that loan I am enabled to continuethe bold game which, a while since, I feared I should never play more.Total ruin I know will follow loss, and I am aware that gain isdoubtful; but I am quite cheerful. So long as I can be active, so longas I can strive, so long, in short, as my hands are not tied, it isimpossible for me to be depressed. One year--nay, but six months--of thereign of the olive, and I am safe; for, as you say, peace will give animpulse to commerce. In this you are right; but as to the restoredtranquillity of the neighbourhood, as to the permanent good effect ofyour charitable fund, I doubt. Eleemosynary relief never yettranquillized the working-classes--it never made them grateful; it isnot in human nature that it should. I suppose, were all things orderedaright, they ought not to be in a position to need that humiliatingrelief; and this they feel. We should feel it were we so placed.Besides, to whom should they be grateful? To you, to the clergy perhaps,but not to us mill-owners. They hate us worse than ever. Then thedisaffected here are in correspondence with the disaffected elsewhere.Nottingham is one of their headquarters, Manchester another, Birminghama third. The subalterns receive orders from their chiefs; they are in agood state of discipline; no blow is struck without mature deliberation.In sultry weather you have seen the sky threaten thunder day by day, andyet night after night the clouds have cleared, and the sun has setquietly; but the danger was not gone--it was only delayed. Thelong-threatening storm is sure to break at last. There is analogybetween the moral and physical atmosphere."
"Well, Mr. Moore" (so these conferences always ended), "take care ofyourself. If you think that I have ever done you any good, reward me bypromising to take care of yourself."
"I do; I will take close and watchful care. I wish to live, not to die.The future opens like Eden before me; and still, when I look deep intothe shades of my paradise, I see a vision that I like better than seraphor cherub glide across remote vistas."
"Do you? Pray, what vision?"
"I see----"
The maid came bustling in with the tea-things.
The early part of that May, as we have seen, was fine; the middle waswet; but in the last week, at change of moon, it cleared again. A freshwind swept off the silver-white, deep-piled rain-clouds, bearing them,mass on mass, to the eastern horizon, on whose verge they dwindled, andbehind whose rim they disappeared, leaving the vault behind all pureblue space, ready for the reign of the summer sun. That sun rose broadon Whitsuntide. The gathering of the schools was signalized by splendidweather.
Whit-Tuesday was the great day, in preparation for which the two largeschoolrooms of Briarfield, built by the present rector, chiefly at hisown expense, were cleaned out, whitewashed, repainted, and decoratedwith flowers and evergreens--some from the rectory garden, two cartloadsfrom Fieldhead, and a wheel-barrowful from the more stingy domain of DeWalden, the residence of Mr. Wynne. In these schoolrooms twenty tables,each calculated to accommodate twenty guests, were laid out, surroundedwith benches, and covered with white cloths. Above them were suspendedat least some twenty cages, containing as many canaries, according to afancy of the district, specially cherished by Mr. Helstone's clerk, whodelighted in the piercing song of these birds, and knew that amidstconfusion of tongues they always carolled loudest. These tables, be itunderstood, were not spread for the twelve hundred scholars to beassembled from the three parishes, but only for the patrons and teachersof the schools. The children's feast was to be spread in the open air.At one o'clock the troops were to come in; at two they were to bemarshalled; till four they were to parade the parish; then came thefeast, and afterwards the meeting, with music and speechifying in thechurch.
Why Briarfield was chosen for the point of rendezvous--the scene of the_fete_--should be explained. It was not because it was the largest ormost populous parish--Whinbury far outdid it in that respect; norbecause it was the oldest, antique as were the hoary church andrectory--Nunnely's low-roofed temple and mossy parsonage, buried both incoeval oaks, outstanding sentinels of Nunnwood, were older still. It wassimply because Mr. Helstone willed it so, and Mr. Helstone's will wasstronger than that of Boultby or Hall; the former _could_ not, thelatter _would_ not, dispute a point of precedence with their resoluteand imperious brother. They let him lead and rule.
This notable anniversary had always hitherto been a trying day toCaroline Helstone, because it dragged her perforce into public,compelling her to face all that was wealthy, respectable, influential inthe neighbourhood; in whose presence, but for the kind countenance ofMr. Hall, she would have appeared unsupported. Obliged to beconspicuous; obliged to walk at the head of her regiment as the rector'sniece, and first teacher of the first class; obliged to make tea at thefirst table for a mixed multitude of ladies and gentlemen, and to do allthis without the countenance of mother, aunt, or other chaperon--she,meantime, being a nervous person, who mortally feared publicity--it willbe comprehended that, under these circumstances, she trembled at theapproach of Whitsuntide.
But this year Shirley was to be with her, and that changed the aspect ofthe trial singularly--it changed it utterly. It was a trial nolonger--it was almost an enjoyment. Miss Keeldar was better in hersingle self than a host of ordinary friends. Quite self-possessed, andalways spirited and easy; conscious of her social importance, yet neverpresuming upon it--it would be enough to give one courage only to lookat her. The only fear was lest the heiress should not be punctual totryst. She often had a careless way of lingering behind time, andCaroline knew her uncle would not wait a second for any one. At themoment of the church clock tolling two, the bells would clash out andthe march begin. She must look after Shirley, then, in this matter, orher expected companion would fail her.
Whit-Tuesday saw her rise almost with the sun. She, Fanny, and Elizawere busy the whole morning arranging the rectory parlours in first-ratecompany order, and setting out a collation of coolingrefreshments--wine, fruit, cakes--on the dining-room sideboard. Then shehad to dress in her freshest and fairest attire of white muslin: theperfect fineness of the day and the solemnity of the occasion warranted,and even exacted, such costume. Her new sash--a birthday present fromMargaret Hall, which she had reason to believe Cyril himself had bought,and in return for which she had indeed given him a set of cambric bandsin a handsom
e case--was tied by the dexterous fingers of Fanny, who tookno little pleasure in arraying her fair young mistress for the occasion.Her simple bonnet had been trimmed to correspond with her sash; herpretty but inexpensive scarf of white crape suited her dress. When readyshe formed a picture, not bright enough to dazzle, but fair enough tointerest; not brilliantly striking, but very delicately pleasing--apicture in which sweetness of tint, purity of air, and grace of mienatoned for the absence of rich colouring and magnificent contour. Whather brown eye and clear forehead showed of her mind was in keeping withher dress and face--modest, gentle, and, though pensive, harmonious. Itappeared that neither lamb nor dove need fear her, but would welcomerather, in her look of simplicity and softness, a sympathy with theirown natures, or with the natures we ascribe to them.
After all, she was an imperfect, faulty human being, fair enough ofform, hue, and array, but, as Cyril Hall said, neither so good nor sogreat as the withered Miss Ainley, now putting on her best black gownand Quaker drab shawl and bonnet in her own narrow cottage chamber.
Away Caroline went, across some very sequestered fields and through somequite hidden lanes, to Fieldhead. She glided quickly under the greenhedges and across the greener leas. There was no dust, no moisture, tosoil the hem of her stainless garment, or to damp her slender sandal.After the late rains all was clean, and under the present glowing sunall was dry. She walked fearlessly, then, on daisy and turf, and throughthick plantations; she reached Fieldhead, and penetrated to MissKeeldar's dressing-room.
It was well she had come, or Shirley would have been too late. Insteadof making ready with all speed, she lay stretched on a couch, absorbedin reading. Mrs. Pryor stood near, vainly urging her to rise and dress.Caroline wasted no words. She immediately took the book from her, andwith her own hands commenced the business of disrobing and rerobing her.Shirley, indolent with the heat, and gay with her youth and pleasurablenature, wanted to talk, laugh, and linger; but Caroline, intent on beingin time, persevered in dressing her as fast as fingers could fastenstrings or insert pins. At length, as she united a final row of hooksand eyes, she found leisure to chide her, saying she was very naughty tobe so unpunctual, that she looked even now the picture of incorrigiblecarelessness; and so Shirley did, but a very lovely picture of thattiresome quality.
She presented quite a contrast to Caroline. There was style in everyfold of her dress and every line of her figure. The rich silk suited herbetter than a simpler costume; the deep embroidered scarf became her.She wore it negligently but gracefully. The wreath on her bonnetcrowned her well. The attention to fashion, the tasteful appliance ofornament in each portion of her dress, were quite in place with her. Allthis suited her, like the frank light in her eyes, the rallying smileabout her lips, like her shaft-straight carriage and lightsome step.Caroline took her hand when she was dressed, hurried her downstairs, outof doors; and thus they sped through the fields, laughing as they went,and looking very much like a snow-white dove and gem-tinted bird ofparadise joined in social flight.
Thanks to Miss Helstone's promptitude, they arrived in good time. Whileyet trees hid the church, they heard the bell tolling a measured buturgent summons for all to assemble. The trooping in of numbers, thetrampling of many steps and murmuring of many voices, were likewiseaudible. From a rising ground, they presently saw, on the Whinbury road,the Whinbury school approaching. It numbered five hundred souls. Therector and curate, Boultby and Donne, headed it--the former loominglarge in full canonicals, walking as became a beneficed priest, underthe canopy of a shovel-hat, with the dignity of an ample corporation,the embellishment of the squarest and vastest of black coats, and thesupport of the stoutest of gold-headed canes. As the doctor walked, henow and then slightly flourished his cane, and inclined his shovel-hatwith a dogmatical wag towards his aide-de-camp. Thataide-de-camp--Donne, to wit--narrow as the line of his shape was,compared to the broad bulk of his principal, contrived, notwithstanding,to look every inch a curate. All about him was pragmatical andself-complacent, from his turned-up nose and elevated chin to hisclerical black gaiters, his somewhat short, strapless trousers, and hissquare-toed shoes.
Walk on, Mr. Donne! You have undergone scrutiny. You think you lookwell. Whether the white and purple figures watching you from yonder hillthink so is another question.
These figures come running down when the regiment has marched by. Thechurchyard is full of children and teachers, all in their very bestholiday attire; and, distressed as is the district, bad as are thetimes, it is wonderful to see how respectably, how handsomely even, theyhave contrived to clothe themselves. That British love of decency willwork miracles. The poverty which reduces an Irish girl to rags isimpotent to rob the English girl of the neat wardrobe she knowsnecessary to her self-respect. Besides, the lady of the manor--thatShirley, now gazing with pleasure on this well-dressed and happy-lookingcrowd--has really done them good. Her seasonable bounty consoled many apoor family against the coming holiday, and supplied many a child with anew frock or bonnet for the occasion. She knows it, and is elate withthe consciousness--glad that her money, example, and influence havereally, substantially, benefited those around her. She cannot becharitable like Miss Ainley: it is not in her nature. It relieves her tofeel that there is another way of being charitable, practicable forother characters, and under other circumstances.
Caroline, too, is pleased, for she also has done good in her smallway--robbed herself of more than one dress, ribbon, or collar she couldill spare, to aid in fitting out the scholars of her class; and as shecould not give money, she has followed Miss Ainley's example in givingher time and her industry to sew for the children.
Not only is the churchyard full, but the rectory garden is alsothronged. Pairs and parties of ladies and gentlemen are seen walkingamongst the waving lilacs and laburnums. The house also is occupied: atthe wide-open parlour windows gay groups are standing. These are thepatrons and teachers, who are to swell the procession. In the parson'scroft, behind the rectory, are the musicians of the three parish bands,with their instruments. Fanny and Eliza, in the smartest of caps andgowns, and the whitest of aprons, move amongst them, serving out quartsof ale, whereof a stock was brewed very sound and strong some weekssince by the rector's orders, and under his special superintendence.Whatever he had a hand in must be managed handsomely. "Shabby doings" ofany description were not endured under his sanction. From the erectionof a public building, a church, school, or court-house, to the cookingof a dinner, he still advocated the lordly, liberal, and effective. MissKeeldar was like him in this respect, and they mutually approved eachother's arrangements.
Caroline and Shirley were soon in the midst of the company. The formermet them very easily for her. Instead of sitting down in a retiredcorner, or stealing away to her own room till the procession should bemarshalled, according to her wont, she moved through the threeparlours, conversed and smiled, absolutely spoke once or twice ere shewas spoken to, and, in short, seemed a new creature. It was Shirley'spresence which thus transformed her; the view of Miss Keeldar's air andmanner did her a world of good. Shirley had no fear of her kind, notendency to shrink from, to avoid it. All human beings--men, women, orchildren--whom low breeding or coarse presumption did not renderpositively offensive, were welcome enough to her--some much more so thanothers, of course; but, generally speaking, till a man had indisputablyproved himself bad and a nuisance, Shirley was willing to think him goodand an acquisition, and to treat him accordingly. This disposition madeher a general favourite, for it robbed her very raillery of its sting,and gave her serious or smiling conversation a happy charm; nor did itdiminish the value of her intimate friendship, which was a distinctthing from this social benevolence--depending, indeed, on quite adifferent part of her character. Miss Helstone was the choice of heraffection and intellect; the Misses Pearson, Sykes, Wynne, etc., etc.,only the profiteers by her good-nature and vivacity.
Donne happened to come into the drawing-room while Shirley, sitting onthe sofa, formed the centre of a tolerably wide c
ircle. She had alreadyforgotten her exasperation against him, and she bowed and smiledgood-humouredly. The disposition of the man was then seen. He knewneither how to decline the advance with dignity, as one whose just pridehas been wounded, nor how to meet it with frankness, as one who is gladto forget and forgive. His punishment had impressed him with no sense ofshame, and he did not experience that feeling on encountering hischastiser. He was not vigorous enough in evil to be activelymalignant--he merely passed by sheepishly with a rated, scowling look.Nothing could ever again reconcile him to his enemy; while no passion ofresentment, for even sharper and more ignominious inflictions, could hislymphatic nature know.
"He was not worth a scene!" said Shirley to Caroline. "What a fool Iwas! To revenge on poor Donne his silly spite at Yorkshire is somethinglike crushing a gnat for attacking the hide of a rhinoceros. Had I beena gentleman, I believe I should have helped him off the premises by dintof physical force. I am glad now I only employed the moral weapon. Buthe must come near me no more. I don't like him. He irritates me. Thereis not even amusement to be had out of him. Malone is better sport."
It seemed as if Malone wished to justify the preference, for the wordswere scarcely out of the speaker's mouth when Peter Augustus came up,all in _grande tenue_, gloved and scented, with his hair oiled andbrushed to perfection, and bearing in one hand a huge bunch ofcabbage-roses, five or six in full blow. These he presented to theheiress with a grace to which the most cunning pencil could do butdefective justice. And who, after this, could dare to say that Peter wasnot a lady's man? He had gathered and he had given flowers; he hadoffered a sentimental, a poetic tribute at the shrine of Love or Mammon.Hercules holding the distaff was but a faint type of Peter bearing theroses. He must have thought this himself, for he seemed amazed at whathe had done. He backed without a word; he was going away with a huskychuckle of self-satisfaction; then he bethought himself to stop andturn, to ascertain by ocular testimony that he really had presented abouquet. Yes, there were the six red cabbages on the purple satin lap, avery white hand, with some gold rings on the fingers, slightly holdingthem together, and streaming ringlets, half hiding a laughing face,drooped over them. Only _half_ hiding! Peter saw the laugh; it wasunmistakable. He was made a joke of; his gallantry, his chivalry, werethe subject of a jest for a petticoat--for two petticoats: Miss Helstonetoo was smiling. Moreover, he felt he was seen through, and Peter grewblack as a thunder-cloud. When Shirley looked up, a fell eye wasfastened on her. Malone, at least, had energy enough in hate. She saw itin his glance.
"Peter _is_ worth a scene, and shall have it, if he likes, one day," shewhispered to her friend.
And now--solemn and sombre as to their colour, though bland enough as totheir faces--appeared at the dining-room door the three rectors. Theyhad hitherto been busy in the church, and were now coming to take somelittle refreshment for the body, ere the march commenced. The largemorocco-covered easy-chair had been left vacant for Dr. Boultby. He wasput into it, and Caroline, obeying the instigations of Shirley, who toldher now was the time to play the hostess, hastened to hand to heruncle's vast, revered, and, on the whole, worthy friend, a glass ofwine and a plate of macaroons. Boultby's churchwardens, patrons of theSunday school both, as he insisted on their being, were already besidehim; Mrs. Sykes and the other ladies of his congregation were on hisright hand and on his left, expressing their hopes that he was notfatigued, their fears that the day would be too warm for him. Mrs.Boultby, who held an opinion that when her lord dropped asleep after agood dinner his face became as the face of an angel, was bending overhim, tenderly wiping some perspiration, real or imaginary, from hisbrow. Boultby, in short, was in his glory, and in a round, sound _voixde poitrine_ he rumbled out thanks for attentions and assurances of histolerable health. Of Caroline he took no manner of notice as she camenear, save to accept what she offered. He did not see her--he never didsee her; he hardly knew that such a person existed. He saw themacaroons, however, and being fond of sweets, possessed himself of asmall handful thereof. The wine Mrs. Boultby insisted on mingling withhot water, and qualifying with sugar and nutmeg.
Mr. Hall stood near an open window, breathing the fresh air and scent offlowers, and talking like a brother to Miss Ainley. To him Carolineturned her attention with pleasure. "What should she bring him? He mustnot help himself--he must be served by her." And she provided herselfwith a little salver, that she might offer him variety. Margaret Halljoined them; so did Miss Keeldar. The four ladies stood round theirfavourite pastor. They also had an idea that they looked on the face ofan earthly angel. Cyril Hall was their pope, infallible to them as Dr.Thomas Boultby to his admirers. A throng, too, enclosed the rector ofBriarfield--twenty or more pressed round him; and no parson was evermore potent in a circle than old Helstone. The curates, herding togetherafter their manner, made a constellation of three lesser planets. Diversyoung ladies watched them afar off, but ventured not nigh.
Mr. Helstone produced his watch. "Ten minutes to two," he announcedaloud. "Time for all to fall into line. Come." He seized his shovel-hatand marched away. All rose and followed _en masse_.
The twelve hundred children were drawn up in three bodies of fourhundred souls each; in the rear of each regiment was stationed a band;between every twenty there was an interval, wherein Helstone posted theteachers in pairs. To the van of the armies he summoned,--
"Grace Boultby and Mary Sykes lead out Whinbury.
"Margaret Hall and Mary Ann Ainley conduct Nunnely.
"Caroline Helstone and Shirley Keeldar head Briarfield."
Then again he gave command,--
"Mr. Donne to Whinbury; Mr. Sweeting to Nunnely; Mr. Malone toBriarfield."
And these gentlemen stepped up before the lady-generals.
The rectors passed to the full front; the parish clerks fell to theextreme rear. Helstone lifted his shovel-hat. In an instant out clashedthe eight bells in the tower, loud swelled the sounding bands, flutespoke and clarion answered, deep rolled the drums, and away theymarched.
The broad white road unrolled before the long procession, the sun andsky surveyed it cloudless, the wind tossed the tree boughs above it, andthe twelve hundred children and one hundred and forty adults of which itwas composed trod on in time and tune, with gay faces and glad hearts.It was a joyous scene, and a scene to do good. It was a day of happinessfor rich and poor--the work, first of God, and then of the clergy. LetEngland's priests have their due. They are a faulty set in somerespects, being only of common flesh and blood like us all; but the landwould be badly off without them. Britain would miss her church, if thatchurch fell. God save it! God also reform it!