CHAPTER XIV.
MRS. PRIME READS HER RECANTATION.
Above an hour had passed after the interruption mentioned at the endof the last chapter before Mrs. Ray and Rachel crossed back from thefarm-house to the cottage, and when they went they went alone. Duringthat hour they had been sitting in Mrs. Sturt's parlour; and when atlast they got up to go they did not press Luke Rowan to go with them.Mrs. Prime was at the cottage, and it was necessary that everythingshould be explained to her before she was asked to give her hand toher future brother-in-law. The farmer had come in and had joked hisjoke, and Mrs. Sturt had clacked over them as though they were abrood of chickens of her own hatching; and Mrs. Ray had smiled andcried, and sobbed and laughed till she had become almost hysterical.Then she had jumped up from her seat, saying, "Oh, dear, what willDorothea think has become of us?" After that Rachel insisted upongoing, and the mother and daughter returned across the green, leavingLuke at the farm-house, ready to take his departure as soon as Mrs.Ray and Rachel should have safely reached their home.
"I knew thee was minded stedfast to take her," said Mrs. Sturt,"when it came out upon the newspaper how thou hadst told them all inBaslehurst that thou wouldst wed none but a Baslehurst lass."
In answer to this Luke protested that he had not thought of Rachelwhen he was making that speech, and tried to explain that allthat was "soft sawder" as he called it, for the election. But thewords were too apposite to the event, and the sentiment too muchin accordance with Mrs. Sturt's chivalric views to allow of heradmitting the truth of any such assurance as this.
"I know," she said; "I know. And when I read them words in thenewspaper I said to the gudeman there, we shall have bridecake fromthe cottage now before Christmas."
"For the matter of that, so you shall," said Luke, shaking hands withher as he went, "or the fault will not be mine."
Rachel, as she followed her mother out from the farmyard gate, hadnot a word to say. Could it have been possible she would have wishedto remain silent for the remainder of the evening and for the night,so that she might have time to think of this thing which she haddone, and to enjoy the full measure of her happiness. Hitherto shehad hardly had any joy in her love. The cup had been hardly given toher to drink before it had been again snatched away, and since thenshe had been left to think that the draught for which she longedwould never again be offered to her lips. The whole affair had nowbeen managed so suddenly, and the action had been so quick, that shehad hardly found a moment for thought. Could it be that things wereso fixed that there was no room for further disappointment? She hadbeen scalded so cruelly that she still feared the hot water. Herheart was sore with the old hurt, as the head that has ached will bestill sore when the actual malady has passed away. She longed forhours of absolute quiet, in which she might make herself sure thather malady had also passed away, and that the soreness which remainedcame only from the memory of former pain. But there was no suchperfect rest within her reach as yet.
"Will you tell her or shall I?" said Mrs. Ray, pausing for a momentat the cottage gate.
"You had better tell her, mamma."
"I suppose she won't set herself against it; will she?"
"I hope not, mamma. I shall think her very ill-natured if she does.But it can't make any real difference now, you know."
"No; it can't make any difference. Only it will be so uncomfortable."
Then with half-frightened, muffled steps they entered their ownhouse, and joined Mrs. Prime in the sitting-room.
Mrs. Prime was still reading the serious book; but I am bound to saythat her mind had not been wholly intent upon it during the longabsence of her mother and sister. She had struggled for a time toignore the slight fact that her companions were away gossiping withthe neighbouring farmer's wife; she had made a hard fight with herbook, pinning her eyes down upon the page over and over again, asthough in pinning down her eyes she could pin down her mind also.But by degrees the delay became so long that she was tantalizedinto surmises as to the subject of their conversation. If it werenot wicked, why should not she have been allowed to share it? Shedid not imagine it to be wicked according to the world's ordinarywickedness;--but she feared that it was wicked according to thattone of morals to which she was desirous of tying her mother down asa bond slave. They were away talking about love and pleasure, andthose heart-throbbings in which her sister had so unfortunately beenallowed to indulge. She felt all but sure that some tidings of LukeRowan had been brought in Mrs. Sturt's budget of news, and she hadnever been able to think well of Luke Rowan since the evening onwhich she had seen him standing with Rachel in the churchyard. Sheknew nothing against him; but she had then made up her mind that hewas pernicious, and she could not bring herself to own that she hadbeen wrong in that opinion. She had been loud and defiant in herdenunciation when she had first suspected Rachel of having a lover.Since that she had undergone some troubles of her own by which thetone of her remonstrances had been necessarily moderated; but evennow she could not forgive her sister such a lover as Luke Rowan. Shewould have been quite willing to see her sister married, but thelover should have been dingy, black-coated, lugubrious, having abouthim some true essence of the tears of the valley of tribulation.Alas, her sister's taste was quite of another kind!
"I'm afraid you will have been thinking that we were never comingback again," said Mrs. Ray, as she entered the room.
"No, mother, I didn't think that. But I thought you were staying latewith Mrs. Sturt."
"So we were,--and really I didn't think we had been so long. But,Dorothea, there was some one else over there besides Mrs. Sturt, andhe kept us."
"He! What he?" said Mrs. Prime. She had not even suspected that thelover had been over there in person.
"Mr. Rowan, my dear. He has been at the farm."
"What! the young man that was dismissed from Mr. Tappitt's?"
It was ill said of her,--very ill said, and so she was herself awareas soon as the words were out of her mouth. But she could not helpit. She had taken a side against Luke Rowan, and could not restrainherself from ill-natured words. Rachel was still standing in themiddle of the room when she heard her lover thus described; but shewould not condescend to plead in answer to such a charge. The colourcame to her cheeks, and she threw up her head with a gesture of angrypride, but at the moment she said nothing. Mrs. Ray spoke.
"It seems to me, Dorothea," she said, "that you are mistaken there. Ithink he has dismissed Mr. Tappitt."
"I don't know much about it," said Mrs. Prime; "I only know thatthey've quarrelled."
"But it would be well that you should learn, because I'm sure youwill be glad to think as well of your brother-in-law as possible."
"Do you mean that he is engaged to marry Rachel?"
"Yes, Dorothea. I think we may say that it is all settlednow;--mayn't we, Rachel? And a very excellent young man he is,--andas for being well off, a great deal better than what a child of minecould have expected. And a fine comely fellow he is, as a woman's eyewould wish to rest on."
"Beauty is but skin deep," said Mrs. Prime, with no littleindignation in her tone, that a thing so vile as personal comelinessshould have been mentioned by her mother on such an occasion.
"When he came out here and drank tea with us that evening," continuedMrs. Ray, "I took a liking to him most unaccountable, unless it wasthat I had a foreshadowing that he was going to be so near and dearto me."
"Mother, there can have been nothing of the kind. You should not saysuch things. The Lord in his providence allows us no foreshadowing ofthat kind."
"At any rate I liked him very much; didn't I, Rachel?--from the firstmoment I set eyes on him. Only I don't think he'll ever do away withcider in Devonshire, because of the apple trees. But if people areto drink beer it stands to reason that good beer will be better thanbad."
All this time Rachel had not spoken a word, nor had her sisteruttered anything expressive of congratulation or good wishes. Now,as Mrs. Ray ceased, there came a silence in the room, and it w
asincumbent on the elder sister to break it.
"If this matter is settled, Rachel--"
"It is settled,--I think," said Rachel.
"If it is settled I hope that it may be for your lasting happinessand eternal welfare."
"I hope it will," said Rachel.
"Marriage is a most important step."
"That's quite true, my dear," said Mrs. Ray.
"A most important step, and one that requires the most exactcircumspection,--especially on the part of the young woman. I hopeyou may have known Mr. Rowan long enough to justify your confidencein him."
It was still the voice of a raven! Mrs. Prime as she spoke thusknew that she was croaking, and would have divested herself of hercroak and spoken joyously, had such mode of speech been possibleto her. But it was not possible. Though she would permit no suchforeshadowings as those at which her mother had hinted, she hadcommitted herself to forebodings against this young man, to suchextent that she could not wheel her thoughts round and suddenly thinkwell of him. She could not do so as yet, but she would make thestruggle.
"God bless you, Rachel!" she said, when they parted for the night."You have my best wishes for your happiness. I hope you do not doubtmy love because I think more of your welfare in another world than inthis." Then she kissed her sister and they parted for the night.
Rachel now shared her mother's room; and from her mother, when theywere alone together, she received abundance of that sympathy forwhich her heart was craving.
"You mustn't mind Dorothea," the widow said.
"No, mamma; I do not."
"I mean that you mustn't mind her seeming to be so hard. She meanswell through it all, and is as affectionate as any other woman."
"Why did she say that he had been dismissed when she knew that itwasn't true?"
"Ah, my dear! can't you understand? When she first heard of Mr.Rowan--"
"Call him Luke, mamma."
"When she first heard of him she was taught to believe that he wasgiddy, and that he didn't mean anything."
"Why should she think evil of people? Who taught her?"
"Miss Pucker, and Mr. Prong, and that set."
"Yes; and they are the people who talk most of Christian charity!"
"But, my dear, they don't mean to be uncharitable. They try to dogood. If Dorothea really thought that this young man was a dangerousacquaintance what could she do but say so? And you can't expecther to turn round all in a minute. Think how she has been troubledherself about this affair of Mr. Prong's."
"But that's no reason she should say that Luke is dangerous.Dangerous! What makes me so angry is that she should think everybodyis a fool except herself. Why should anybody be more dangerous to methan to anybody else?"
"Well, my dear, I think that perhaps she is not so wrong there. Ofcourse everything is all right with you now, and I'm sure I'm thehappiest woman in the world to feel that it is so. I don't know howto be thankful enough when I think how things have turned out;--butwhen I first heard of him I thought he was dangerous too."
"But you don't think he is dangerous now, mamma?"
"No, my dear; of course I don't. And I never did after he drank teahere that night; only Mr. Comfort told me it wouldn't be safe not tosee how things went a little before you,--you understand, dearest?"
"Yes, I understand. I ain't a bit obliged to Mr. Comfort, though Imean to forgive him because of Mrs. Cornbury. She has behaved bestthrough it all,--next to you, mamma."
I am afraid it was late before Mrs. Ray went to sleep that night, andI almost doubt whether Rachel slept at all. It seemed to her that inthe present condition of her life sleep could hardly be necessary.During the last month past she had envied those who slept while shewas kept awake by her sorrow. She had often struggled to sleep as shesat in her chair, so that she might escape for a few moments from thetorture of her waking thoughts. But why need she sleep now that everythought was a new pleasure? There was no moment that she had everpassed with him that had not to be recalled. There was no word of histhat had not to be re-weighed. She remembered, or fancied that sheremembered, her idea of the man when her eye first fell upon hisoutside form. She would have sworn that her first glance of him hadconveyed to her far more than had ever come to her from many a day'scasual looking at any other man. She could almost believe that he hadbeen specially made and destined for her behoof. She blushed evenwhile lying in bed as she remembered how the gait of the man, and thetone of his voice, had taken possession of her eyes and ears fromthe first day on which she had met him. When she had gone to Mrs.Tappitt's party, so consciously alive to the fact that he was to bethere, she had told herself that she was sure she thought no more ofhim than of any other man that she might meet; but she now declaredto herself that she had been a weak fool in thus attempting todeceive herself; that she had loved him from the first,--or at anyrate from that evening when he had told her of the beauty of theclouds; and that from that day to the present hour there had been noother chance of happiness to her but that chance which had now beenso wondrously decided in her favour. When she came down to breakfaston the next morning she was very quiet,--so quiet that her sisteralmost thought she was frightened at her future prospects; but Ithink that there was no such fear. She was so happy that she couldafford to be tranquil in her happiness.
On that day Rowan came out to the cottage in the evening and wasformally introduced to Mrs. Prime. Mrs. Ray, I fear, did not find thelittle tea-party so agreeable on that evening as she had done on theprevious occasion. Mrs. Prime did make some effort at conversation;she did endeavour to receive the young man as her futurebrother-in-law; she was gracious to him with such graciousness as shepossessed;--but the duration of their meal was terribly long, andeven Mrs. Ray herself felt relieved when the two lovers went forthtogether for their evening walk. I think there must have been sometriumph in Rachel's heart as she tied on her hat before she started.I think she must have remembered the evening on which her sister hadbeen so urgent with her to go to the Dorcas meeting;--when she had soobstinately refused that invitation, and had instead gone out to meetthe Tappitt girls, and had met with them the young man of whom hersister had before been speaking with so much horror. Now he was thereon purpose to take her with him, and she went forth with him, leaninglovingly on his arm, while yet close under her sister's eyes. I thinkthere must have been a gleam of triumph in her face as she put herhand with such confidence well round her lover's arm.
Girls do triumph in their lovers,--in their acknowledged andpermitted lovers, as young men triumph in their loves which are notacknowledged or perhaps permitted. A man's triumph is for the mostpart over when he is once allowed to take his place at the familytable, as a right, next to his betrothed. He begins to feel himselfto be a sacrificial victim,--done up very prettily with blueand white ribbons round his horns, but still an ox prepared forsacrifice. But the girl feels herself to be exalted for those fewweeks as a conqueror, and to be carried along in an ovation of whichthat bucolic victim, tied round with blue ribbons on to his horns,is the chief grace and ornament. In this mood, no doubt, both Racheland Luke Rowan went forth, leaving the two widows together in thecottage.
"It is pretty to see her so happy, isn't it now?" said Mrs. Ray.
The question for the moment made Mrs. Prime uncomfortable and almostwretched, but it gave her the opportunity which in her heart shedesired of recanting her error in regard to Luke Rowan's character.She wished to give in her adhesion to the marriage,--to be known tohave acknowledged its fitness so that she could, with some true wordof sisterly love, wish her sister well. In Rachel's presence shecould not have first made this recantation. Though Rachel spoke notriumph, there was a triumph in her eye, which prevented almost thepossibility of such yielding on the part of Dorothea. But when thething should have been once done, when she should once have ownedthat Rachel was not wrong, then gradually she could bring herselfround to the utterance of some kindly expression.
"Pretty," she said; "yes, it is pretty. I do not know that anybo
dyever doubted its prettiness."
"And isn't it nice too? Dear girl! It does make me so happy to seeher light-hearted again. She has had a sad time of it, Dorothea,since we made her write that letter to him; a very sad time of it."
"People here, mother, do mostly have what you call a sad time of it.Are we not taught that it is better for us that it should be so? Havenot you and I, mother, had a sad time of it? It would be all sadenough if this were to be the end of it."
"Yes, just so; of course we know that. But it can't be wrong that sheshould be happy now, when things are so bright all around her. Youwouldn't have thought it better for her, or for him either, that theyshould be kept apart, seeing that they really love each other?"
"No; I don't say that. If they love one another of course it is rightthat they should marry. I only wish we had known him longer."
"I am not sure that these things always go much better because youngpeople have known each other all their lives. It seems to be certainthat he is an industrious, steady young man. Everybody seems to speakwell of him now."
"Well, mother, I have nothing to say against him,--not a word. Andif it will give Rachel any pleasure,--though I don't suppose it will,the least in the world; but if it would, she may know that I thinkshe has done wisely to accept him."
"Indeed it will; the greatest pleasure."
"And I hope they will be happy together for very many years. I loveRachel dearly, though I fear she does not think so, and anything Ihave said, I have said in love, not in anger."
"I'm sure of that, Dorothea."
"Now that she is to be settled in life as a married woman, of courseshe must not look for counsel either to you or to me. She must obeyhim, and I hope that God may give him grace to direct her stepsaright."
"Amen!" said Mrs. Ray, solemnly. It was thus that Mrs. Prime read herrecantation, which was repeated on that evening to Rachel with somelittle softening touches. "You won't be living together in the samehouse after a bit," said Mrs. Ray, thinking, with some sadness, thatthose little evening festivities of buttered toast and thick creamwere over for her now,--"but I do hope you will be friends."
"Of course we will, mamma. She has only to put out her hand the leastlittle bit in the world, and I will go the rest of the way. As forher living, I don't know what will be best about that, because Lukesays that of course you'll come and live with us."
It was two or three days after this that Rachel saw the Tappitt girlsfor the first time since the fact of her engagement had become known.It was in the evening, and she had been again walking with Luke, whenshe met them; but at that moment she was alone. Augusta would haveturned boldly away, though they had all come closely together beforeeither had been aware of the presence of the other. But to this bothMartha and Cherry objected.
"We have heard of your engagement," said Martha, "and we congratulateyou. You have heard, of course, that we are going to move to Torquay,and we hope that you will be comfortable at the brewery."
"Yes," said Augusta, "the place isn't what it used to be, and sowe think it best to go. Mamma has already looked at a villa nearTorquay, which will suit us delightfully."
Then they passed on, but Cherry remained behind to say another word."I am so happy," said Cherry, "that you and he have hit it off. He'sa charming fellow, and I always said he was to fall in love with you.After the ball of course there wasn't a doubt about it. Mind you sendus cake, dear; and by-and-by we'll come and see you at the old place,and be better friends than ever we were."
CHAPTER XV.
CONCLUSION.
Early in November Mr. Tappitt officially announced his intentionof abdicating, and the necessary forms and deeds and parchmentobligations were drawn out, signed and sealed, for the givingup of the brewery to Luke Rowan. Mr. Honyman's clerk revelled inthinly-covered folio sheets to the great comfort and profit of hismaster; while Mr. Sharpit went about Baslehurst declaring thatTappitt was an egregious ass, and hinting that Rowan was littlebetter than a clever swindler. What he said, however, had but littleeffect on Baslehurst. It had become generally understood that Rowanwould spend money in the town, employing labour and struggling togo ahead, and Baslehurst knew that such a man was desirable as acitizen. The parchments were prepared, and the signatures werewritten with the necessary amount of witnessing, and Tappitt andRowan once more met each other on friendly terms. Tappitt hadendeavoured to avoid this, pleading, both to Honyman and to his wife,that his personal dislike to the young man was as great as ever; butthey had not permitted him thus to indulge his wrath. Mr. Honymanpointed out to Mrs. Tappitt that such ill-humour might be verydetrimental to their future interests, and Tappitt had been made togive way. We may as well declare at once that the days of Tappitt'sdomestic dominion were over, as is generally the case with a man whoretires from work and allows himself to be placed, as a piece ofvenerable furniture, in the chimney corner. Hitherto he, and he only,had known what funds could be made available out of the brewery forhousehold purposes; and Mrs. Tappitt had been subject, at every turnof her life, to provoking intimations of reduced profits: but nowthere was the clear thousand a year, and she could demand her rightsin accordance with that sum. Tappitt, too, could never again strayaway from home with mysterious hints that matters connected with maltand hops must be discussed at places in which beer was consumed. Hehad no longer left to him any excuse for deviating from the regularcourse of his life even by a hair's breadth; and before two yearswere over he had learned to regard it almost as a favour to beallowed to take a walk with one of his own girls. No man shouldabdicate,--unless, indeed, he does so for his soul's advantage. As tohappiness in this life it is hardly compatible with that diminishedrespect which ever attends the relinquishing of labour. Otium cumdignitate is a dream. There is no such position at any rate forthe man who has once worked. He may have the ease or he may havethe dignity; but he can hardly combine the two. This truth theunfortunate Tappitt learned before he had been three months settledin the Torquay villa.
He was called upon to meet Rowan on friendly terms, and he obeyed.The friendship was not very cordial, but such as it was it served itspurpose. The meeting took place in the dining-room of the brewery,and Mrs. Tappitt was present on the occasion. The lady received hervisitor with some little affectation of grandeur, while T., standingwith his hands in his pockets on his own rug, looked like a whippedhound. The right hand he was soon forced to bring forth, as Rowandemanded it that he might shake it.
"I am very glad that this affair has been settled between usamicably," said Luke, while he still held the hand of the abdicatingbrewer.
"Yes; well, I suppose it's for the best," said Tappitt, bringing outhis words uncomfortably and with hesitation. "Take care and mind whatyou're about, or I suppose I shall have to come back again."
"There'll be no fear of that, I think," said Rowan.
"I hope not," said Mrs. Tappitt, with a tone that showed that shewas much better able to master the occasion than her husband. "Ihope not; but this is a great undertaking for so young a man, and Itrust you feel your responsibility. It would be disagreeable to us,of course, to have to return to the brewery after having settledourselves pleasantly at Torquay; but we shall have to do so if thingsgo wrong with you."
"Don't be frightened, Mrs. Tappitt; you shall never have to come backhere."
"I hope not; but it is always well to be on one's guard. I amsure you must be aware that Mr. Tappitt has behaved to you verygenerously; and if you have the high principle for which we arewilling to give you credit, and which you ought to possess for themanagement of such an undertaking as the brewery, you will be carefulthat me and my daughters shan't be put to inconvenience by any delayin paying up the income regularly."
"Don't be afraid about that, Mrs. Tappitt."
"Into the bank on quarter day, if you please, Mr. Rowan. Shortaccounts make long friends. And as Mr. T. won't want to be troubledwith letters and such-like, you can send me a line to MontpellierVilla, Torquay, just to say that it's done."
"Oh, I
'll see to that," said Tappitt.
"My dear, as Mr. Rowan is so young for the business there'll benothing like getting him to write a letter himself, saying that themoney is paid. It'll keep him up to the mark like, and I'm sure Ishan't mind the trouble."
"Don't you be alarmed about the money, Mrs. Tappitt," said Rowan,laughing; "and in order that you may know how the old shop is goingon, I'll always send you at Christmas sixteen gallons of the beststuff we're brewing."
"That will be a very proper little attention, Mr. Rowan, and we shallbe happy to drink success to the establishment. Here's some cake andwine on the table, and perhaps you'll do us the favour to take aglass,--so as to bury any past unkindness. T., my love, will you pourout the wine?"
It was twelve o'clock in the day, and the port wine, which had beenstanding for the last week in its decanter, was sipped by Luke Rowanwithout any great relish. But it also served its purpose,--and theburial service over past unkindness was performed with as muchheartiness as the nature of the entertainment admitted. It was notas yet full four months since Rowan had filled Rachel's glass withchampagne in that same room. Then he had made himself quite at homein the house as a member of Mr. Tappitt's family; but now he wasgoing to be at home there as master of the establishment. As heput down the glass he could not help looking round the room, andsuggesting to himself the changes he would make. As seen at present,the parlour of the brewery was certainly a dull room. It was verylong since the wainscoting had been painted, longer since thecurtains or carpets had been renewed. It was dark and dingy. But thenso were the Tappitts themselves. Before Rachel should be broughtthere he would make the place as bright as herself.
They said to him no word about his marriage. As for Tappitt he saidfew words about anything; and Mrs. Tappitt, with all her wish to begracious, could not bring herself to mention Rachel Ray. Even betweenher and her daughters there was no longer any utterance of Rachel'sname. She had once declared to Augusta, with irrepressible energy,that the man was a greater fool than she had ever believed possible,but after that it had been felt that the calamity would be bestendured in silence.
When that interview in the dining-room was over, Rowan saw no more ofMrs. Tappitt. Business made it needful that he should be daily aboutthe brewery, and there occasionally he met the poor departing manwandering among the vats and empty casks like a brewer's ghost. Therewas no word spoken between them as to business. The accounts, thekeys, and implements were all handed over through Worts; and Rowanfound himself in possession of the whole establishment with no moretrouble than would have been necessary in settling himself in a newlodging.
That promise which he had half made of sending bridecake to Mrs.Sturt before Christmas was not kept, but it was broken only by alittle. They were married early in January. In December Mrs. Rowancame back to Baslehurst, and became the guest of her son, who wasthen keeping a bachelor's house at the brewery. This lady's firstvisit to the cottage after her return was an affair of great momentto Rachel. Everything now had gone well with her except that questionof her mother-in-law. Her lover had come back to her a better loverthan ever; her mother petted her to her heart's content, speaking ofLuke as though she had never suspected him of lupine propensities;Mr. Comfort talked to her of her coming marriage as though she hadacted with great sagacity through the whole affair, addressing her ina tone indicating much respect, and differing greatly from that inwhich he had been wont to catechise her when she was nothing morethan Mrs. Ray's girl at Bragg's End; and even Dolly had sent in heradhesion, with more or less cordiality. But still she had fearedMrs. Rowan's enmity, and when Luke told her that his mother wascoming to Baslehurst for the Christmas,--so that she might alsobe present at the marriage,--Rachel felt that there was still acloud in her heavens. "I know your mother won't like me," she saidto Luke. "She made up her mind not to like me when she was herebefore." Luke assured her that she did not understand his mother'scharacter,--asserting that his mother would certainly like any womanthat he might choose for his wife as soon as she should have beenmade to understand that his choice was irrevocable. But Rachelremembered too well the report as to that former visit to the cottagewhich Mrs. Rowan had made together with Mrs. Tappitt; and when sheheard that Luke's mother was again in the parlour she went down fromher bedroom with hesitating step and an uneasy heart. Mrs. Rowan wasseated in the room with her mother and sister when she entered it,and therefore the first words of the interview had been alreadyspoken. To Mrs. Ray the prospect of the visit had not been pleasant,for she also remembered how grand and distant the lady had been whenshe came to the cottage on that former occasion; but Rachel observed,as she entered the room, that her mother's face did not wear thatlook of dismay which was usual to her when she was in any presencethat was disagreeable to her.
"My dear child!" said Mrs. Rowan rising from her seat, and openingher arms for an embrace. Rachel underwent the embrace, and kissed thelady by whom she found herself to be thus enveloped. She kissed Mrs.Rowan, but she could not, for the life of her, think of any word tospeak which would be fitting for the occasion.
"My own dear child!" said Mrs. Rowan again; "for you know that youare to be my child now as well as your own mamma's."
"It is very kind of you to say so," said Mrs. Ray.
"Very kind, indeed," said Mrs. Prime; "and I'm sure that you willfind Rachel dutiful as a daughter." Rachel herself did not feeldisposed to give any positive assurance on that point. She intendedto be dutiful to her husband, and was inclined to think thatobedience in that direction was quite enough for a married woman.
"Now that Luke is going to settle himself for life," continued Mrs.Rowan, "it is so very desirable that he should be married at once.Don't you think so, Mrs. Ray?"
"Indeed, yes, Mrs. Rowan. I always like to hear of young men gettingmarried; that is when they've got anything to live upon. It makesthem less harum-scarum like."
"I don't think Luke was ever what you call harum-scarum," said Mrs.Rowan.
"Mother didn't mean to say he was," said Mrs. Prime; "but marriagecertainly does steady a young man, and generally makes him much moreconstant at Divine service."
"My Luke always did go to church very regularly," said Mrs. Rowan.
"I like to see young men in church," said Mrs. Ray. "As for the girlsthey go as a matter of course; but young men are allowed so much oftheir own way. When a man is a father of a family it becomes verydifferent." Hereupon Rachel blushed, and then was kissed again byLuke's mother; and was made the subject of certain very interestingprophecies, which embarrassed her considerably and which need not berepeated here. After that interview she was never again afraid of hermother-in-law.
"You'll love mamma, when you know her," said Mary Rowan to Rachel aday or two afterwards. "Strangers and acquaintances generally thinkthat she is a very tremendous personage, but she always does what sheis asked by those who belong to her;--and as for Luke, she's almosta slave to him." I won't say that Rachel resolved that Mrs. Rowanshould be a slave to her also, but she did resolve that she wouldnot be a slave to Mrs. Rowan. She intended henceforward to serve oneperson and one person only.
Mrs. Butler Cornbury also called at the cottage; and her visit wasvery delightful to Rachel,--not the less so perhaps because Mrs.Prime was away at a Dorcas meeting. Had she been at the cottage allthose pleasant allusions to the transactions at the ball would hardlyhave been made. "Don't tell me," said Mrs. Cornbury. "Do you think Icouldn't see how it was going to be with half an eye? I told Walterthat very night that he was a goose to suppose that you would go downto supper with him."
"But, Mrs. Cornbury, I really intended it; only they had anotherdance, and I was obliged to stand up with Mr. Rowan because I wasengaged to him."
"I don't doubt you were engaged to him, my dear."
"Only for that dance, I mean."
"Only for that dance, of course. But now you are engaged to him forsomething else, and I tell you that I knew it was going to be so."
All this was very pretty and very pleasant; and
when Mrs. Cornbury,as she went away, made a special request that she might be invited tothe wedding, Rachel was supremely happy.
"Mamma," she said, "I do love that woman. I hardly know why, but I dolove her so much."
"It was always the same with Patty Comfort," said Mrs. Ray. "She hada way of making people fond of her. They say that she can do justwhat she likes with the old gentleman at the Grange."
It may be well that I should declare here that there was no scrutinyas to the return of Butler Cornbury to Parliament,--to the greatsatisfaction both of old Mr. Cornbury and of old Mr. Comfort. Theyhad been brought to promise that the needful funds for supportingthe scrutiny should be forthcoming; but the promise had been madewith heavy hearts, and the tidings of Mr. Hart's quiescence had beenreceived very gratefully both at Cornbury and at Cawston.
Luke and Rachel were married on New Year's Day at Cawston church, andafterwards made a short marriage trip to Penzance and the Land's End.It was cold weather for pleasure-travelling; but snow and winds andrain affect young married people less, I think, than they do otherfolk. Rachel when she returned could not bear to be told that it hadbeen cold. There was no winter, she said, at Penzance,--and so shecontinued to say ever afterwards.
Mrs. Ray would not consent to abandon the cottage at Bragg's End. Shestill remained its occupier in conjunction with Mrs. Prime, but shepassed more than half her time at the brewery. Mrs. Prime is stillMrs. Prime; and will, I think, remain so, although Mr. Prong isoccasionally seen to call at the cottage.
It is, I think, now universally admitted by all Devonshire andCornwall that Luke Rowan has succeeded in brewing good beer; withwhat results to himself I am not prepared to say. I do not, however,think it probable that he will succeed in his professed object ofshutting up the apple orchards of the county.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Volume I, Chapter XII, paragraph 45. "She had pledged herself to give Mr. Prong an answer on Friday, . . ." The astute reader will recall from Chapter IX that Mrs. Prime asked Mr. Prong to call on Saturday, while Miss Pucker was shopping, to learn her answer to his proposal.
Specific changes in wording of the text are listed below.
Volume I, Chaper VII, paragraph 16. The word "walks" was changed to "walls" in the sentence: Now the room was partially cleared, the non-dancers being pressed back into a border round the WALLS, and the music began.
Volume I, Chapter XIV, paragraph 1. "Excellence" was changed to "existence" in the sentence: In Rachel's presence, and sweet smile, and winning caresses was the chief delight of her EXISTENCE.
Volume II, Chapter III, paragraph 2. The word "hopes" was changed to "hope" in the sentence: She told herself that such was her HOPE;. . .
Volume II, Chapter XI, paragraph 32. "Dining-room" was changed to "drawing-room" in the sentence beginning: Rowan did not see her till he met her in the DRAWING-ROOM, just before dinner . . .
Volume II, Chapter XII, paragraph 1. "Country-house" was changed to "counting-house" in the sentence: He was alone and thoughtful in his COUNTING-HOUSE, or else subjected to the pressure of his wife's arguments in his private dwelling.
Volume II, Chapter XIII, paragraph 26. "Wives" was changed to "wife" in the sentence: Nevertheless she carried the tidings up into Baslehurst, and as she repeated it to the grocer's daughters and the baker's WIFE she shook her head with as much apparent satisfaction as though she really believed that Rachel oscillated between a ruined name and a broken heart.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends