The Old Maid of the Family. A novel

Chapter I. Clarence Elton's Confidante

The next morning a letter was brought to Lizzie, which she read in private, none of the family knowing that she had received one. It contained an offer from Clarence Elton, accompanied with assurances of devoted affec tion, and an earnest hope that before she left home, to mingle even for a brief period in gayer society, she would permit him the happiness of VOL. III. B announcing their engagement to their respective friends; and give him a right to correspond regularly with her. This was the chief, but by no means the only matter touched upon in the long letter, for Cla rence could not answer it to his conscience to make a proposal of marriage, without stating clearly and fully what he considered the duties of a clergyman's wife, and the serious responsi bilities this position involved. He even hinted delicately his regret that Lizzie should not have given more decided indications of seriousness, but trusted that if she responded to his sentiments, and became his affianced wife, she would earnestly set herself to study those deep and solemn things, which he feared she had too much neglected.

The whole tenor of the letter left no doubt of the writer's warm attachment to the girl whose hand and heart he sought — but Lizzie fancied she detected in it a struggling both with reason and conscience, the first of which would say ' Lizzie Baynton, has none of the qualifications necessary for a clergyman's wife,' and the second — ' Be ye not unequally yoked together — with unbelievers.' Poor dear Clarence! he had suffered himself to be carried captive by a pretty face (of course Lizzie knew she was pretty) and while judgment had fallen asleep for a little while, his imagina tion, rather than his heart, had played him this foolish trick, and led him to the commission of a piece of imprudence which might have cost him dear had his ardent feelings chanced to be reci procated. But Lizzie had settled all about Clarence Elton long ago, and if she was firm and decided in rejecting Frank Stirling, who had really come very near the outer courts of her heart, how much easier was it to answer this second pro posal with the little negative which so often falls as a death knell on the listener's ear, while the THE OLs/ MAID speaker utters it as lightly as if it could be for gotten ere its brief sound had died away.

So the letter was replied to, and dispatched secretly, and Lizzie went about her usual avoca tions as if nothing had happened, and only felt slightly annoyed, a very little guilty, when Rhoda kept wondering why Clarence did not make his appearance, and her mother occasionally glanced at her with an anxiously enquiring look, that told Lizzie the mystery was at least suspected. And when evening came and still brought no Clarence, Rhoda grew manifestly uneasy and then Theresa taking her eldest daughter aside said — 'Lizzie, if you know the reason of his not being here, would it not be kinder to tell at once ?" "I think not, mama," was the quiet reply; — " Rhoda will get over one day's absence better than she would get over what I should have to tell. From me she shall never know it." " But suppose he does not come to-morrow?"

" Let Rhoda return to Mrs. Elton for a week, and ask Miss Lomax to come and stay during that time with you. You know, in her last letter, she said she should have a few weeks' holi day at Midsummer; and I am certain you would both enjoy it." "I think I will do this, Lizzie; Mrs. Elton will be only too glad to get Rhoda back, and as she will so soon be leaving her altogether, per haps I ought to spare the dear child now. She would be very dull here without either you or Clarence." The next day, Mr. Osborne came down to fetch Lizzie, and without much inclination for leaving home, she bade a tearful adieu to her mother and sisters, and became a guest for some weeks in Mrs. Osborne's new and stylish resi dence in Grosvenor Square. In the afternoon of the same day, Theresa took her second daughter back to Richmond, B and found, as she had anticipated, that Mrs. Elton was delighted to receive her, "especially," said Rhoda's friend, " as Clarence is talking of paying a long promised visit to some acquaint ance down in Cornwall, and as he is not looking quite well, I have not thought it desirable to oppose him in this scheme."

" We did not see him all day yesterday," observed Rhoda, as she laid aside her bonnet, and began plucking off the dead leaves from some geraniums of her own in the flower-stand. " Indeed ! " replied the mother, in evident astonishment, ' he was out till the evening, and I naturally concluded he was with you as usual. Now I think of it, he was later than he generally is, and I had gone to bed with a bad headache before he came in." " How strange !" said Rhoda, with a perplexed look, forgetting to finish her flowers, " wherever could he have been?" Theresa made no remark, and declining to stay to tea, as the young ones would be expecting her, she soon after wished Mrs. Elton and Rhoda good night, and left them to discuss the mystery of Clarence's doings as fully as they pleased. "Where is he now?"

Rhoda asked, when they were alone. " My love, I have no more idea than yourself. He came in to dinner, but I fancied he was un usually grave and silent, and when I enquired whether he had been to Mount Pleasant, be said, ' No,' rather shortly, and left me the moment the cloth was withdrawn." Rhoda became very thoughtful now, and on the first opportunity, escaped to a little sitting room, which was considered the joint property of herself and Clarence, but where of late he had rarely come, as there was a cool summer-house in the garden, in which he read, studied, or amused himself according to his pleasure, without fear of intrusion from any one. In the sitting-room Rhoda's work and drawings were scattered about, and Clarence always said he was afraid of doing mischief amongst so much that he did not un derstand ; but then, when he did condescend to join her there, his visits were regarded as es pecial favours, and the place seemed sunnier and brighter, even after he had left, than before he had come.

On the present occasion, Rhoda, though feeling little inclined for work of any description, took up her pencils, and began putting a few touches to a drawing she was doing for her mother. She wanted to think quietly, and the thinking pro cess always seemed to go on easier and more pleasantly over her drawing, than over her other occupations. She had not, however, proceeded far, in either the mechanical or mental exercise, when the door suddenly opened, and Clarence, looking dreadfully pale, and somewhat excited, stood beside her. Before she could speak or move, he had taken the seat immediately opposite her own, and when this was done, he said, abruptly, — "I am going away to-morrow, Rhoda." " I am very sorry, Clarence; but if it will do you good " '' You will be very glad," he interrupted, — " thank you, my kind sister — and now tell me, when did Lizzie go?"

" This morning. Mr. Osborne came to fetch her in their new carriage." Clarence looked impatient. — " Did she leave any message — any farewell message, I mean, for me?" " I don't remember. She had, indeed, so many things to think of just at the last, and you know we were expecting you all yesterday." " Who do you mean by ' we ' — was Lizzie expecting me?" " Of course — that is to say," added Rhoda, (suddenly remembering that her sister had expressed no surprise at Clarence's non-appearance) " I don't really know whether she did or not. At all events, the rest of us were." "Oh!" — There was a long pause, broken, at length, by Clarence saying, — " Then Lizzie did not enlighten you as to the cause of my absence?' If he had felt the slightest interest in watching his little sister, as he called her, he would have seen that the colour entirely forsook her cheek at this question, but he saw nothing, and de tected nothing unusual in her voice, as she replied, quietly, — " No, indeed, she did not."

" Then I will, Rhoda, for I want sympathy ; and there is not another living creature from whom I could, on such an occasion, claim it. I have loved Lizzie ever since I can remember, and always lately looked forward to having her for my wife. I was fool enough to think she loved me, too, so I wrote to tell her all that was in my heart, and to ask her to accept me as her future husband. In a few hours after my letter must have reached her, I received a point blank refusal of my proposal, and an assurance that no time, or change, or circumstance, could ever alter the nature of her feelings towards me, which were simply such as a sister might entertain for a brother. After this, you will not wonder, Rhoda, that I kept away from Mount Pleasant, or that I want now to get to the other end of England as fast as possible."

"Have you told your mother?" (It was the only thing poor Rhoda could think of saying.) " No, why should I ? She would only assure me that Lizzie was not a suitable wife for me, and that it was fortunate she had refused my offer." " Perhaps Lizzie may be brought to feel differently towards you, if you love her so very much, Clarence." " I do love her so very much," he said de jectedly ; " but I have no hope now of ever winning her heart. Perhaps it has been won by somebody else. Do you know whether she has any liking for Frank Stirling, Rhoda?" Rhoda was too generous to withhold from him the little relief she had it in her power to give, so she related the incidents of the evening when Lizzie had sent her home with Frank, and re mained at Richmond in her stead; adding her firm conviction, not only from this apparent caprice of her sister's, but from Frank's silence and depression as they were walking to Mount Pleasant, that he had proposed and been rejected on that occasion.

It was certainly not without some degree of satisfaction that Clarence received this intelligence. It proved, at least, that there was no rival in the case, and although there might be nothing in it to raise his own hopes, still it seemed to show that his rejection proceeded as much from the impregnable nature of Lizzie's heart (he could not call it a cold one) as from any lack of those qualifications in himself which are calculated to win a woman's love. He thanked Rhoda earnestly for what she had told him, and finding her willingness to talk on the only subject which now interested him, very agreeable, and her quiet sympathy expressed by the tear which shone in her eye rather soothing to his spirits, he proposed that they should take a long walk together after tea. Of course, Rhoda said " yes," as she would have done to any other suggestion he had chosen to make — and dating from that evening she be came the patient listener to all Clarence's heart troubles; the unselfish recipient of whatever he thought fit to tell, and the untiring correspondent who, in his absence, was to give him every detail concerning the object of his adoration.

If it is asked how she was paid or rewarded for all this, I must refer the reader to his Knowledge of womankind for an answer. It certainly took from her all remnant ot childishness, but this was scarcely a reward. It made her live out of herself, and this undoubtedly was good for her ; and then, mingling with the wormwood and the gall, there was an occasional drop of honey which kept her from fainting over the strange and unsought task. Sometimes Clarence would say in his letters, "what should I do without my good little sister," or — " I am longing for the time when I can be with you again, Rhoda," and on such occasions Rhoda was fully satisfied with the portion of nectar that had been pressed into her cup of life.

Chapter II

A LITERARY LIONESS. Mrs. Osborne had certainly taken a great fancy to Lizzie Baynton, and she was proud of having such a pretty girl to exhibit at the few select parties she was now beginning to give. Her only regret was that Lizzie's singular reserve of manner kept her always in the back ground, and prevented that general admiration which she felt convinced would otherwise have been bestowed upon her. If it had been only shyness, Mrs Osborne would have made every effort to over come it, but she saw plainly that Lizzie was neither shy nor awkward, and that the reserve she complained of was assumed, and maintained with a firmness that resisted all the arguments as well as all the raillery she employed against it. The truth was, that Lizzie when she came quietly to reflect upon the two offers of marriage she had so recently received, was much struck by one fact which forced itself upon her notice — the fact thr.t both Frank and Clarence had ap peared to assume her consent as an almost certain thing.

Now if the fault was not connected with the personal vanity of the young men (and Lizzie could accuse neither of them of any undue amount of this weakness) it must necessarily rest with herself, and have been occasioned by some familiarity of manner, some unguardedness in her conduct towards them, which they had con strued into an evidence of more than sisterly affection. This would have been a painful conclusion for any very young woman to arrive at; to Lizzie it was especially galling, for pride and self esteem were by no means wanting in her character, and she recoiled from the idea of ever having acted in such a way as to lead any one to sup pose that her heart had been touched — the heart which she sometimes hugged herself in believing that no mortal man would ever win ; not that it was incapable of loving deeply and intensely, but that it would require so much more in its idol than plain reality could furnish, and had dwelt too long upon the ideal for the actual to have any chance of satisfying it.

But putting aside all this, which, in her sober moments Lizzie knew to be romance bor dering on nonsense, she determined to profit by the lesson her late experience had taught her, and never again, through any error of her own, to mislead others as to her feelings towards them. That she went at once to the very oppo site extreme, and became cold and reserved to an almost unwomanly extent, was not unnatural, considering her jouth and ignorance; and it certainly proved a strong safeguard against the fascinations of a mode of life and a society which would otherwise have presented many snares to a girl of Lizzie's disposition. She was still able to enjoy it in a moderate degree, to be amused by its novelty, interested by its under current, which her quietness gave her often an opportunity of detecting and not altogether disposed to find fault with its indo lence and luxury.

Mrs. Osborne's health did not permit her to go out much herself, but when Lizzie had been with her about a fortnight, an invitation came to a literary soiree on an extensive scale, which she was very desirous of accepting ; of course, if she went, her young guest would accompany her; and Lizzie having, like most young girls, au ardent curiosity concerning all literary peo ple, was especially delighted when, on the morning of the eventful day, Mrs. Osborne sent for OF THE FAMH.Y. her to her dressing room, and told her she felt well enough to go. The entire day was taken up in attending to the dresses for the evening, Mrs. Osborne ge erously supplying all that was lacking in Lizzie's toilette, enjoying the little excitement immensely, and only regretting that her dear Carry was not there to be dressed becomingly, and to go with them, instead of wearing herself to death, and probably feeding on horseflesh among the savages.

Lizzie was in excellent spirits, and enchanted at the thoughts of her evening, but she could not pity Carry or suppose her otherwise than intensely happy with the husband she loved so fondly, and performing the duties in which her heart was entirely engaged. For an account of the conversazione, I must refer the reader to the following extract from a letter Lizzie wrote to her mother the next day. " You will not, I daresay, dear mama, be much surprised to hear that my expectations concerning this famous soiree given at Lady B g's, far outran the reality, but then I have no doubt if I had been a literary person myself, it would all have been very different. The rooms were brilliantly lighted, and the ladies beautifully dressed. There was some excellent music, for the players and singers were professional, and I thought it a pity that so few of the guests appeared to be listening to them.

Instead of this, a few whispered and talked amongst themselves, and seemed to be enquiring who the rest of the company were, while the rest of the company walked about looking rather bewildered, evidently afraid to ask questions or make remarks, lest they should be overheard by any of the literary lions who were supposed to be dispersed indiscriminately amidst the groups, assembled, I thought, on purpose to look at and admire them. For my own part, I did not see (or if I did it was ignorantly) a single writer that I had wished to have a peep at. Mrs. Osborne is so short sighted, that she could recognise no body who was not close to her; and when, to please me, she two or three times asked an acci dental neighbour to point out one or other of the celebrities, tbe reply was invariably that they did not know a creature in the room; and the hostess never coming near us, we had no other means of gaining information.

"But now I am coming to the solitary adven ture and interest, as concerns myself, of the evening. " It was already getting very late, and Mrs. Osborne was talking of going away, when a rush towards the door, and an unusual excite ment among the moving crowd aroused our at tention, and suddenly taking courage myself, I asked an old gentleman who had just seized upon a vacant chair next to mine, what was the matter. ' Nothing that I know of,' he repiled, VOL. III. c rather surlily, ' except that this is about the slowest affair I had ever the misfortune to be present at, but if you want to be informed why those people are making themselves so extra ridiculous at this precise moment — I believe a new authoress has just come in. As for her name I have forgotten it, but her novels are having a great sale, and of course silly folks are mad about her.' In spite of the old gentleman's want of interest, which I daresay was all jealousy because he could not write a book himself, you may be sure that mine was fully awakened, and begging Mrs. Osborne to take me to the other end of the room where the celebrated authoress was to be seen, I at length got near enough to observe a tall, elegantly-dressed woman in ear nest conversation with Lady B .

Her back was towards me for some time, but I waited pa tiently, and by-and-bye she turned round; and then, to my unbounded astonishment, I recog nised our old friend, Miss Howard! Miss Howard, now transformed into the popular and successful writer whom everybody is talking about and dying to see. Only think, dear mama ! but this it but the beginning. My first impulse was to run up to her, and introduce myself as the little girl she was formerly so kind to; but a moment's consideration deterred me from such a foolish act, and I found a seat, after telling Mrs. Osborne all about it, and sat down where I knew Miss Howard would presently have to pass. It was, however, quite half-an hour before our hostess released her, and Mrs. Osborne was growing impatient, and evidently longing to get home. 'Five minutes more,' I entreated; and scarcely had she nodded consent, when Miss Howard turned round, saw, and re cognised me immediately, and attracted universal attention by the warmth and enthusiasm of her greeting.

Of course she had a hundred questions to ask about you all, and a thousand things to tell me about herself; but conscious, I suppose, c of being the lioness of the evening, or taking pity on Mrs. Osborne's weary looks, she said she would postpone everything till she could see me alone, and promised to call in Grosvenor Square on the earliest opportunity. So then I bade her good-night and we came away, and I need scarcely tell you that I have thought and dreamt of nothing since, but this charming Miss Howard, whose acquaintance Mrs. Osborne is delighted at the present chance of making. I hope she will call soon, but I fear her numer ous engagements will tempt her to forget such an insignificant atom as myself. I am getting quite strong and well, mama, and shall be fit for any amount of labour by the time the holidays are over.

Write me all the news; and with love to darling Rhoda, the younger fry, and your dear precious self, " I am, my own mama, " Your devoted child, " Lizzie." In Theresa's reply to this letter, she warned her young and enthusiastic daughter against the danger of being led away by external fascina tions, or dazzled by the glitter of what a capri cious public denominates genius. She stated frankly that she had never read, and probably never should read a line that Miss Howard had written, but from her former knowledge of her old schoolfellow, she was quite convinced that she possessed no extraordinary talents of any kind, and if what she had published made a sensation in the world, it must be rather from her having hit upon some popular subject, than from intrinsic merit in the writing itself. Mrs. Baynton trusted that Lizzie would meet the advances of this new authoress cautiously, and abstain from reading her books until she could learn their real nature and tendency from some competent authority.

Lizzie was disappointed and vexed at what she considered her mother's prejudice against the object of her own warm interest and admiration, and she would probably have dwelt more upon it had not another passage in the same letter, divided, with the one about Miss Howard, her attention and regrets. It was this: " Clarence Elton is gone on a visit to Corn wall, and not expected home for some weeks. Your sister has returned to me, as Miss Lomax was most anxious to see something of her during her own brief stay at Mount Pleasant. I am sorry to tell you that Rhoda looks pale and out of spirits. She rarely mentions Clarence now, and I quite believe has gained, by some means or other, the information you were so anxious to withhold from her. She is studying very hard and perseveringly, and seems longing for school to recommence.

I trust you will not both find the work too much so. you. There is a half promise of another pupil from Buckinghamshire; but nothing is decided yet. If we can only get clear by Christmas, I shall be happy and thankful indeed." " We will get clear," said Lizzie to herself, as she laid down the letter with a sigh that seemed to anticipate the labour and the patience that would be required for the accomplishment of this object. And then she read over again what her mother had written about Rhoda, and decided in her own mind that Clarence must be weak indeed if he had revealed to her sister his unrequited attachment, and not less blind than weak in fail ing to discover that poor little Rhoda herself was devoted to him. It was some days after the receipt of this letter before Miss Howard called upon Lizzie, and then her visit was a very brief one, owing, she said, to the multitude of claims which were at present made upon her time.

She brought a copy of her favourite work and told Lizzie she hoped she would read it, and promised as soon as possible to go down to Richmond and see the rest of the family. In alluding to Mr. Bayn ton's death she appeared really affected, and said that in all her life she had never met with any person for whom she could entertain so high and perfect an esteem. She had often and often thought of the few happy weeks she had spent at Rosemount, and as often wished that she possessed the pure and lovely principles of which Mr. Baynton had been so able an advocate; but Lizzie would find, she added, that her books were not destitute of religious teaching, although the subject was rather insinuated than forced upon the reader. In taking leave, she declared that she must have her dear Lizzie to spend the next holidays with her, and that she was going to purchase a charming little place near Windsor, where there would be everything to tempt a lover ef country scenes and amusements to become her guest.

It will not be a matter of wonder that after this interview, Miss Howard rose higher than ever in Lizzie's good opinion; but as she could not hope to see her again during her stay in town, she began to long to get back to her sister, and it was not a little trial of her patience to refrain from reading the book Miss Howard had given her, until she should have shown it to her mother, and received her sanction for doing so. After having spent exactly a month in London, and upon the whole enjoyed it exceedingly, Lizzie, with many kind expressions of regret on the part of her host and hostess at losing her society, bade them farewell, and returned with a heart still fancy free, to the willing discharge of her home duties. c

Chapter III

work! work! work! There were yet a few days before any of the pupils were expected back, and these were spent by the mother and her two eldest daughters in organizing their school arrangements for the next half-year, and seeing, if by any possible amount of good management, they could contrive to dispense with the services of a teacher. Rhoda was in the secret of her mother's troubles and difficulties now, and both Lizzie and herself were willing and anxious to undertake the whole work alone; because by this means, and strict economy in everything that related to their own personal expenses, Mrs. Baynton thought there was little doubt of being able to pay off all that was owing by the following Christmas. She trembled, however, at the idea of over working her poor girls, and even when every thing had been settled, implored them to let her re-engage the teacher who had before assisted them; but Lizzie and Rhoda were firmer than their gentle mother, and so they gained the day.

Clarence Elton was still away in Cornwall, and no confidence took place between the sisters concerning him. Lizzie knew that he corres ponded with Rhoda, but this was no new thing, although the subject of the letters was ; and as she had never expressed very much interest in what he wrote from College, there was nothing remarkable in Rhoda not offering to show her his letters now. It was enough for Lizzie that her dear quiet little sister (quieter at present than she had ever been) seemed to derive plea sure from this correspondence , and having made up her mind from the beginning that all would come right in the end, she fully believed that everything was steadily progressing towards the desired result. What Rhoda believed or expected, nobody knew, and when once the duties of the school had commenced, everybody was much too busy to enquire, even had she given them an encou ragement to do so.

Much too busy were they to bestow more than a passing thought upon Clarence's return home, more than a hasty word of friendly greeting when he came to see them, and more than a hurried farewell, accompanied with some kind wishes, when he had to go back to complete his last term at college. But in this case, however deeply Clarence might for the time have felt his seeming ba nishment and alienation, the pre-occupation of these untiring workers was a matter of little comparative importance; but it threatened to become of some serious consequence when it prevented the whole household from remarking how Lizzie was drooping under the immense amount of labour she had undertaken, and with which she was determined to get through. Theresa had so many household duties to engage her attention that she rarely came into the school-room during the day; and in the evenings, which they all spent together, Lizzie was generally a little flushed and excited, either from the efforts she had made to finish her work in time, or from some skirmish with an obsti nate pupil; and thus her weariness and exhaus tion passed unnoticed.