Chapter 43
"I suppose he wished to continue his studies?"
"He did so naturally. The foundation of an advanced education has been laid, and he expected it was to go on to completion. His brothers are now in the college school, occupied all day long with their studies, and of course William feels the difference. He gets to his books for an hour when he returns home in an evening; but he is weary, and does not do much good."
"He appears to be a more persevering, thoughtful boy than are some,"
remarked Mr. Ashley.
"Very thoughtful--very persevering. It has been the labour of my life, Mr. Ashley, to foster good seed in my children; to reason with them, to make them my companions. They have been endowed, I am thankful to say, with admirable qualities of head and heart, and I have striven unweariedly to nourish the good in them. It is not often that boys are brought into contact with sorrow so early as they. Their father's death and my adverse circ.u.mstances have been real trials."
"They must have been," rejoined Mr. Ashley.
"While others of their age think only of play," she continued, "my boys have been obliged to learn the sad experiences of life; and it has given them a thought, a care, beyond their years. There is no necessity to _make_ Frank and Edgar apply to their lessons unremittingly; they do it of their own accord, with their whole abilities, knowing that education is the only advantage they can possess--the one chance of their getting on in the world. Had William been a boy of a different disposition, less tractable, less reflective, less conscientious, I might have found some difficulty in inducing him to work as he is doing."
"Does he complain?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
"Oh no, sir! He feels that it is his duty to work, to a.s.sist as far as he can, and he does it without complaining. I see that he cannot help feeling it. He would like to be in the college with his brothers; but I cheer him up, and tell him it may all turn out for the best. Perhaps it will."
She rose as she spoke. Mr. Ashley shook hands with her, and attended her through the hall. "Your sons deserve to get on, Mrs. Halliburton, and I hope they will do so. It is an admirable promise for the future man when a boy displays thought and self-reliance."
"Mamma!" suddenly exclaimed Janey, as they sat at breakfast the morning after this, "do you remember what to-day is? It is my birthday."
Jane had remembered it. She had been almost in hopes that the child would not remember it. One year ago that day the first glimpse of the shadow so soon to fall upon them had shown itself. What a change! The contrast between last year and this was almost incredible. Then they had been in possession of a good home, were living in prosperity, in apparent security. Now--Jane's heart turned sick at the thought. Only one short year!
"Yes, Janey dear," she replied in sadly subdued tones. "I did not forget it. I----"
A double knock at the door interrupted what she would have further said.
They heard Dobbs answer it: visitors were chiefly for Mrs. Reece.
Who should be standing there but Samuel Lynn! He did not choose the familiar back way, as Patience did, had he occasion to call, but knocked at the front.
"Is Jane Halliburton within?"
"You can go and see," said crusty, disappointed Dobbs, flouris.h.i.+ng her hand towards the study door. "It's not often that she's out."
Jane rose at his entrance; but he declined to sit, standing while he delivered the message with which he had been charged.
"Friend, thee need not send thy son to the manufactory again in an evening, except on Sat.u.r.days. On the other evenings he may remain at home from tea-time and pursue his studies. His wages will not be lessened."
And Jane knew that the considerate kindness emanated from Thomas Ashley.
She managed better with her work
One afternoon, which Jane was obliged to devote to plain sewing, she was sitting alone in the study when there came a hard short thump at it, which was Dobbs's way of making known her presence there.
"Come in!"
Dobbs came in and sat herself down opposite Jane. It was summer weather, and the August dust blew in at the open window. "I want to know what's the matter with Janey," began she, without circ.u.mlocution.
"With Janey?" repeated Mrs. Halliburton. "What should be the matter with her? I know of nothing."
"Of course not," sarcastically answered Dobbs. "Eyes appear to be given to some folks only to blind 'em--more's the pity! You can't see it; my missis can't see it; but I say that the child is ill."
"Oh, Dobbs! I think you must be mistaken."
"Now I'd thank you to be civil, if you please, Mrs. Halliburton,"
retorted Dobbs. "You don't take me for a common servant, I hope. Who's 'Dobbs'?"
"I had no wish to be uncivil," said Jane. "I am so accustomed to hearing Mrs. Reece call you Dobbs, that----"
"My missis is one case, and other folks is another," burst forth Dobbs, by way of interruption. "I have a handle to my name, I hope, which is Mrs. Dobbs, and I'd be obleeged to you not to forget it again. What's the reason that Janey's always tired now, I ask--don't want to stir--gets a bright pink in the cheeks and inside the hands?"
"It is only the effect of the hot weather."
The opinion did not please Dobbs. "There's not a earthly thing happens but it's laid to the weather," she angrily cried. "The weather, indeed!
If Janey is not going off after her pa, it's an odd thing to me."
Jane's heart-pulse stood still.
"Does she have night-perspirations, or does she not?" demanded Dobbs.
"She tells me she's hot and damp; so I conclude it is so."
"Only from the heat--only from the heat," panted Jane eagerly. She dared not admit the fear.
"Well, the first time I go down to the town, I shall take her to Parry.
It won't be at your cost," she hastened to add in ungracious tones, for Jane was about to interrupt. "If she wants to know what she is took to the doctor for, I shall tell her it is to have her teeth looked at. She has a nasty cough upon her: perhaps you haven't noticed that! Some can't see a child decaying under their very nose, while strangers can see it palpable."
"She has coughed since last week, the day of the rain, when she went with Anna Lynn into the field at the back, and they got their feet wet.
Oh, I am sure there is nothing seriously the matter with her," added Jane, resolutely endeavouring to put the suggested fear from her. "I want her in: she must help me with my sewing."
"Then she's not a-going to help," resolutely returned Dobbs. "She has had a good dinner of roast lamb, sparrow-gra.s.s and kidney potatoes, and she's sitting back in my easy chair, opposite to my missis in hers. Her wanting always to rest might have told some folks that she was ailing.
When children are in health, their legs and wings and tongue are on the go from morning till night. You never need pervide 'em with a seat but for their meals; and, give 'em their way, they'd eat _them_ standing.
Jane's always wanting to rest now, and she shall rest."
"But, indeed she must help me to-day," urged Jane. "She can sew straight seams, and hem. Look at this heap of mending! and it must be finished to-night. I cannot afford to be about it to-morrow."
"What sewing is it you want done?" questioned Dobbs, lifting up the work with a jerk. "I'll do it myself sooner than the child shall be bothered."
"Oh no, thank you. I should not like to trouble you with it."
"Now, I make the offer to do the work," crossly responded Dobbs; "and if I didn't mean to do it, I shouldn't make it. You'd do well to give it me, if you want it done. Janey shan't work this afternoon."
Taking her at her word, and indeed glad to do so, Jane showed Dobbs a task, and Dobbs swung off with it. Jane called after her that she had not taken a needle and cotton. Dobbs retorted that she had needles and cotton of her own, she hoped, and needn't be beholden to anybody else for 'em.
Jane sat on, anxious, all the afternoon. Janey remained in Mrs. Reece's parlour, and revelled in an early tea and pikelets. Jane was disturbed from her thoughts by the boisterous entrance of Frank and Gar; more boisterous than usual. Frank was a most excitable boy, and had been told that evening by the head master of the college school, the Reverend Mr.
Keating, that he might be one of the candidates for the vacant place in the choir. This was enough to set Frank off for a week. "You know what a nice voice you say I have, mamma; what a good ear for music!" he reiterated. "As good, you tell us, as Aunt Margaret's used to be. I shall be sure to gain the post if you will let me try. We have to be at college for an hour morning and afternoon daily, but we can easily get that up if we are industrious. Some of the best Helstonleigh scholars who have shone at Oxford and Cambridge were choristers. And I should have about ten pounds a-year paid to me."
Ten pounds a-year! Jane listened with a beating heart. It would more than keep him in clothes. She inquired more fully into particulars.
The result was that Frank had permission to try for the vacant choristers.h.i.+p, and gained it. His voice was the best of those tried. He went home in a glow. "Now, mamma, the sooner you set about a new surplice for me the better."