Paulina's Ambition. A story

Front matter

THE TOWER PAULINA'S AMBITION. % Stoni. BY EDIS SEARLE, -£_ author of "hetty's resolve." " What though unmarked the happy workman toil, And break, unthanked of man, the stubborn sod ? It is enough ; for sacred is the soil, Dear are the hills of God. " Far better in its place the lowliest bird Should sing aright to Him the lowliest song, Than that a seraph strayed should take the word, And sing His glory wrong." SEELEY, JACKSON, & HALLIDAY, 54, FLEET STREET, LONDON. MDCCCLXXVIII. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. COMING OUT ----- i II. NOT AN OLD FAMILY ... g III. A TIME TO LAUGH AND A TIME TO WEEP - 2J IV. SELF ----- 44 V. FOR THE BETTER OR FOR THE WORSE - 63 VI. A QUOI EON - - - - 82 VII. HENINGS ----- 95 VIII. DARK CLOUDS - - - - 115 IX. PLEASURING - - - - 1 34 X. MUTUAL IMPROVEMENT - - - 1 74. XL A DREAM ----- 192 XII.

THE HAPPY MEDIUM - - - 207 XIII. OVER AND DONE - - - - 220 XIV. A FRESH START - - - - CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XV. ABROAD ..... 254 XVI. A SPOILED LIFE - - - - 275 XVII. AN UNMANAGEABLE GRANDSON - - 288 XVIII. A LAST DAY IN SWITZERLAND - - 304 CONCLUSION ----- PAULINA'S AMBITION.

Chapter I. Coming Out

GOOD-NIGHTS were said in the servants' hall, foot steps died away along the long passages, and the shutting of many doors in the upper regions made it evident that the maids were disappearing for the night. The household at the Towers was an early one — early to bed and early to rise — and ten o'clock had just struck by the old clock in the entrance hall, the hour which for many years had been the signal for retiring. Nevertheless, though in the space of a few minutes, silence reigned in the old mansion, in one room at least there was a watcher, whose bed would await her long, and whose eyelids would droop many times ere her love-imposed task of waiting was ended. Old Catty, the nurse, had seen two generations grow up in the old Towers ; she had begun her life of service there when the stately old lady who was now the mistress had been a babe in arms.

She had nursed the lady's sisters, and now that they were advanced in years, the same care that she had lavished on them was given to the younger generations, the children of her ladies brother. True, she was feeble and bent with years, but what then ? other servants might be stronger and more active, but who could love or care for the children as she would do ? Who, for example, would have felt the pleasure she did in the task that lay before her on this particular night ? Ser vants who were hired one year and left the next would have grumbled, as they looked at the clock and thought that five hours at least must elapse before bedtime came ; but that which would have been a trouble and burden to many was a pride and pleasure to old Catty. Her thoughts as she stood looking round her young lady's room must have been pleasant ones, else why should her cheeks, withered as they were, wear that bright spot which told of happy excitement, and why should her eyes sparkle so gladly as they glanced round the empty room, littered all over with articles of clothing and stray bits of rib bon and flowers ?

It would take some little time to tidy that room, but Catty thought nothing of that : before her mind's eye there lingered still the vision of her darling as she had stood there an hour before, dressed for her first ball, an airy cloud of tulle enveloping her, making a pretty picture of girlish beauty, which had gladdened the eyes and heart of the proud old nurse. "And I dressed her all myself," the old woman said to herself as she went round the room, hanging up everyday garments, shutting half-open drawers, shaking out the towels, and hanging them straight in their place. " My lady knows that no stuck-up maid can do better for the dear child than her old nurse, though many might think different ; and I've often been feared lest a French maid or some such piece of mischief should be fetched to tend Miss Paulina when she really did come out.

But my lady has more sense than half the world, as indeed can be seen in the way she has managed the bringing up of Miss Paulina. She has none of them wild notions of bringing young ladies for ward, as I told Mrs. Guest's housekeeper; but — there, Mrs. Guest is another sort of lady altogether, and I reckon the young ladies there are young ladies as soon as they're born, and no one so much as talks of they're being children except, it may be, when they pays for their railway ticket." So old Catty rambled on till the bedroom was put in order by her ready fingers, and then stirring the fire and throwing on fresh coal, she sat down I — to wait and while away the time as best she could till her young lady's return. It was a pretty room now that it was tidy again ; a large bow at one end, with a deep window well curtained with pretty chintz, was evidently used by the occupant of the room as a kind of study.

There was a convenient table with useful little drawers, and on it stood a bowl of flowers, many books, a work-basket, and all the many little things necessary to a young girl's happiness. A high-backed chair, turned slightly towards the window, inclined the observer to suspect that some part of Miss Paulina's time was spent in gazing at the landscape before the house, and very possibly in some of those dreams which are so frequent in youth, and which, as years go on, grow fewer and greyer, and gradually become less tinged with sunny hues. There were, of course, many photographs and simple pictures on the wall, as well as over the high mantelpiece, but of scent-bottles and all the many nicknacks that abound in some young ladies' rooms there was a striking scarcity. Perhaps this was in some degree owing to the non-appearance of the French maid whom old Catty dreaded ; for Catty was rather stern and precise in her ways, and in her nursery government had always dis played a profound contempt for all hair-washes, scents, and perfumery.

Clean soft water, and plenty of it, a good brush and comb thoroughly used were in her opinion all that any lady required to make her look as she should ; and half her horrors of the French maid arose from the notion she had, that all French ladies used rouge and paint, and were, in fact, no better than Queen Jezebel of olden times. "A nice state they must get themselves into," she would say, when these subjects were on the tapis, " thank goodness my ladies ne'er meddle with such trumpery." Indeed this was quite a craze of old Catty's, and sitting beside the fire, thinking about Paulina's coming out, the old notions revived, and she congratulated herself that no red and white paint had marred her darling's beauty, on this which seemed to the old nurse the most important day of her life. " Not that she seemed to think much about it," old Catty reflected ; " 'twas strange how little her thoughts seemed set on her ball, and this the first she has ever been at.

To my thinking she looked quite as happy when she was sitting on the floor playing with her little sisters, as she did when she was dressed and going downstairs with her aunt. She was as grave as a judge ; not a smile on her face — no, nor when her aunt pinned the wreath on her hair. It was a pity she hadn't just a touch more colour, but that would come with dancing, no doubt, and then she would be quite queenly, as indeed she ought to be, going with that splendid old lady, Lady Trevor." Catty was proud to think that she had dressed Lady Trevor for her first ball, too — how long ago that seemed." And well it might ; it was more than thirty years ago, and a sight of things had happened since that day. The lady's own marriage to Sir John Trevor, the Colonel's marriage, his going to India, the birth of Miss Paulina, and her return to England, a tiny sickly babe, to be cared for by her father's nurse ; then the death of Sir John, and of the Colonel's wife, his second marriage, and the birth of the two little twins, Catty's present nurslings, Ada and Ruth.

Yes, it was a long story, and thinking it all over, no wonder that Catty had several naps, which helped to get rid of the long hours, till the sound of the carriage wheels on the hard frosty road warned her that her watch was nearly over. A light springing step on the stairs, a low voice whispering " good-night," and Paulina was in the room. Her first exclamation, " Oh, what a delightful fire !" was speedily exchanged for, " Oh, you bad old woman ! how dare you sit up for me ; didn't I order you to go to bed at your usual time ? didn't I tell you that I could take off all my finery and take out all my pins without your help ? you shocking old nursie, I declare I won't speak to you !" It was a rash vow, for Catty was not to be got rid of till she had heard how her child had enjoyed herself.

" Better than I should have done had I known you were sitting up for me," was Paulina's response; and then she demurely related the events of the evening : who had been her partners, how many dances she had danced, which of her acquaintances she had met, and all as soberly as if a ball were as ordinary an event as a drive, without one of those blushes or smiles that tells of conscious loveliness, with no idea, as far as could be seen, that she had been admired, envied, or praised. A little disappointed, it must be confessed, Catty felt. She did not want her child to be flattered or have her head turned by admiration, but she wanted her to enjoy herself, and Paulina seemed scarcely to have thought about pleasure in the matter ; she spoke of the ball in an old-fashioned way, much as she had heard her aunt do, and of her presence there as simply necessary, a duty she owed to society.

It seemed unnatural ; the young girl ought to have come back excited, in high spirits, so Catty thought, and for the first time in her life she wondered whether Mrs. Guest's housekeeper was right, and Paulina had been kept in retirement so long that she had grown into a woman without ever being a girl. But no, Paulina's feet were light ; so light that her walk the next morning was half a dance ; her voice was blithe as a bird as she ran about the house, and if her eyes did not sparkle, and her tongue did not rattle on with merry chatter, it was not because her heart was not light, but simply because her eyes were naturally grave and full of thought, and her tongue was never apt to make itself heard save in rare moments, or when she had really something to say.

Chapter II. Not An Old Family

The little village of Rentham was, and had long been, a quiet place even for a village. Not that it had suffered from the contempt of railway com panies — a luckless fate in these busy days for any place that desires to keep up with the age — nor was there any great depressing cause to account for the intensely humdrum condition of the village and people. True, the family at the great house, the Towers, was not wont to entertain to any great extent ; Lady Trevor was a widow, and widows, according to her views, should not, except on rare occasions, show themselves in gay society ; but the Misses Feilding and their younger sister, Mrs. West, appeared occasionally at the county fes tivities, and the lady herself gave and accepted invitations to dinner-parties. Still, that it was a quiet family was undeniable.

This much, however, may be said for Rentham, if there was not much gaiety, there was also not much real poverty or real suffering. The poorer folks were of a thrifty nature ; there were manu factures in the neighbourhood, and no lack of em ployment. Many of the more industrious made small fortunes, and the sons of those who had perhaps been ragged urchins in the streets, became well-to-do tradesmen. Misery and want to some extent no doubt there were ; but if so, they hid themselves from the public eye, and to a passing stranger all wore the aspect of respectability and contentment. Such, at least, was the impression produced on the mind of Captain Hornby, the son of a rich iron master, who had built himself a handsome mansion in this little village, far away from the town where he had made his fortune.

His eldest son had entered the army some ten years before, and having spent those years in foreign lands, had lately re tired from the service in shattered health, and was now come to recruit himself, if possible, under his mother's care in their new home among the moun tains. " The people look so light-hearted and jolly," was his remark as he sauntered with his sister through the village. " You must be glad, Madge, to be out of that vile town smoke." And Madge, whose face was in one perpetual glow of smiles and merriment, replied gaily, "Oh yes, it's twice as good living here, if only there was more going on ; more fun, you know. You'll find it deadly lively here, Fitz, after such a life as you've had." " Perhaps I'd rather try a quieter life for a change," said her brother languidly ; " but you seem to have plenty of friends, Madge.

Why, you were out last night, and the night before, and I heard you plotting all sorts of jollifications with that girl who came this morning ; what was her name ?" " Alice Thome ; she is only staying here for a week or two with an old aunt, and the fun we were plotting was nothing to count upon, Master Fitz ; it was only what might happen if I go to stay with her after Christmas, and though I've promised to go, I've not mentioned the matter to the father yet, so please to keep it to yourself — do you hear, old man ?" " All right ; it's no affair of mine. But how about the other people, the residents, I mean ? you've friends at that sensible-looking dwelling yonder, haven't you ? My mother said the Guests were an immense family, and the house looks as if it was built to accommodate a parish."

" Yes, there are two girls there, and a host of boys — young men I suppose they call themselves. They're a goody set, though, and I have to be prim and sedate when I go there ; however, it makes a variety, and they like to have me ; they think their influence will do me good — great fun, isn't it ?" " Why ?" inquired her brother coldly ; then, as he received no answer, he added, " And the people at the Towers, my father spoke with unbounded respect of them ?" " So does everybody. They are models of re spectability, all of them, from old Lady Trevor down to the tiny little niece who sits in church as demurely as if she liked going there ; but between ourselves, Fitz, the Towers is the one house where I feel awkward and stupid, and almost shy. I believe it's Paulina Feilding's fault ; she's so quiet, and old-fashioned, and starched ; I can stand it in old ladies like the four aunts, but not in Miss Paulina — no, not I." "Miss Paulina — isn't she that beautiful girl we met yesterday ? why, Madge, what are you think ing of ? old-fashioned and starched! don't you see that a girl with features and figure like hers ought to be grave and demure ? for her to romp and chatter would be monstrous, simply monstrous !"

"Well, no matter; I'm glad she and her face agree ; but you're the first person I've heard call her beautiful. Mamma says she's no complexion." " My mother likes blonde beauties ; so do I sometimes. Miss Paulina is a different style, but I'm not sure if hers isn't more uncommon. Next time you see her, look well at the shape of her head, and the way it's placed on her shoulders, and then notice her features, and tell me what you think." " Well, we won't quarrel about it, but I know most people think Margaret and Laura Guest much prettier than Paulina, and I'm not sure that I don't too." " Not having seen these young ladies, I am no judge of that matter," replied Captain Hornby ; "but, by-the-bye, Madge, as we are passing the church, it occurs to me that you have said nothing about the inhabitants of the Vicarage ; is there any fun, as you call it, to be had there ?"

Madge groaned. " Fun ? no, indeed, Fitz. Haven't you seen the Vicar? A benevolent-looking, gentle-speaking old man, over seventy, I should think. I believe he used to dance well, but his dancing-days are over ; I wish his preaching-days were over too. Not that it signifies much to me. I never listen, but the Vicarage is such a pretty house ; it's a shame there isn't a lot of boys and girls in it to make it alive. Old Mr. Barron has never been married, you know." " And he does not keep a curate ?" " No ; he did till last year, and then he gave it up ; they were such a torment to him, for he likes people to be respectable, you know." " And weren't they respectable ? I thought curates were such nice, interesting young creatures." " Mr. Barron did not find them so, it seems. One used frequently to be found in a ditch — not a fit place for a clergyman, I suppose ; another was a terrible flirt ; and one — the last we had — had no sense of propriety at all, but he was great fun for all that.

He never could find his place in the Prayer-book, and as he suffered from a chronic cough, he not unfrequently took an orange up into the pulpit, and sucked it at intervals during his discourses, throwing the bits of peel about the flooring of the church." " Now come, that won't do, Madge," said her brother, with a languid smile. Captain Hornby never laughed ; it was too much trouble, not quite gentlemanly either, perhaps. His sister's ringing laugh was rather a trial to him, though many people thought it musical. " Quite true," said Madge ; then, perfectly in different whether the Captain was listening or not, she was rattling on with a series of stories selected from the lives of former curates, when her rippling flow of talk came suddenly to an end, and Captain Hornby, looking up to see what had checked her, perceived, as they rounded a turn in the road, a confused heap by the wayside, which proved on their nearer approach to be a pony-carriage, which had been upset, depositing its occupants in a very unsightly ditch.

" Lady Trevor's !" exclaimed Madge in conster nation ; " poor old thing ! I hope she's not killed. Oh, Fitz, I daren't go on! what if she should be " But Fitz was no longer an inattentive or languid listener. " They've no one with them," he exclaimed ; and in another minute Paulina Feilding, who had been driving her aunt and two little sisters along the desolate country road where the accident happened, was relieved from her worst fears by finding that a strong hand had seized the pony's head just as he had struggled to his feet, and stopped him from bolting off along the hard road, dragging the broken carriage along with him. " We are all right now, aunt," she exclaimed, springing lightly to her feet ; and Mrs. West, who in her Indian married life had met with many such adventures of a much more serious nature than the upsetting of a pony-carriage, replied with perfect equanimity : " Yes, my dear ; at least we shall be when we're out of this ditch ; give me your hand — the bank is steep — and look to your sisters, my dear."

That they should be hurt seemed hardly likely : the bank and the ditch were as soft as possible ; their tumble was nothing, Paulina thought ; never theless, whether from fright or from dislike of the green muddy bed into which they had fallen, both the little girls were sobbing piteously when Paulina went to their rescue, and though Ruth was soon comforted and reassured, Ada long continued to moan and cry, and declare in a much-aggrieved tone that she was very much hurt indeed. True, she couldn't exactly say where ; now it was her head ; no, not her head, her arm ; no, not her arm, her leg ; and so on, till Ruth laughed and protested that Paulina had better put her down, and then her leg would get better. But this was more than Ada's offended dignity could tolerate. Walk ! she couldn't walk ; her leg was broken, she knew.

" Well, you needn't walk," said Paulina ; " if we could only drag the carriage up — the pony is quiet enough now — we can drive home." " Oh, we'll get the carriage straight for you," said Captain Hornby ; and Paulina, looking at him for the first time since he had come to their relief, thanked him gravely, and then seeing Madge by his side, shook hands with her and began to explain how the accident happened. " Daisy is so nervous," she said ; " it was a ferret ran across the road, Aunt Ellen says ; I didn't see, but the pony shied and tumbled us all into the ditch. I'm afraid I was not minding my business, or I might have prevented it. Oh, Adie dear, don't be so silly ; you really aren't hurt." " I'll never go into that naughty carriage again," shrieked the child. " Paulina must carry me home ; I can't walk."

" Oh, indeed," said Mrs. West, turning round from a short conversation with Captain Hornby; " Paulina carry you home, a great girl of four years old ! No, you must either walk or get into the carriage. Is it broken, Captain Hornby, do you think ?" " Not much ; at least it will carry you home all right ; and the pony is quiet enough now. Miss Feilding must be on the look-out for ferrets, that is all." " Then we'll get in," said Mrs. West, " with many thanks for your kind help, Captain Hornby ; how strange that I should have met a fellow-traveller again in this way." They got in and settled themselves, Captain Hornby holding the pony's head till they were ready to start. Ada's alarm had subsided under the influence of her aunt's firm, no-nonsense enduring manner, but her little face was tear-stained and half-scared as they drove off, Mrs. West parting with nods and smiles, and Paulina with her grave bow.

" A great shame to make that child get in," was Madge's remark when they were out of hearing; " why shouldn't children be allowed to be afraid sometimes ? Those stern aunts would have been the death of me if I'd been Paulina. I wonder if the two little ones will live to grow up." " Of course they will," said her brother abruptly. " And if they do they'll be just like Paulina, cold, stiff, and self-contained. I wonder whether she wasn't frightened, only afraid to show it. How I should have screeched, and so would Ernestine." " And frightened the pony still more," remarked Captain Hornby, with something very like a sneer. Madge did not like this remark ; it seemed to savour of an unfavourable comparison between herself and Paulina, and forgetting her usual good nature, she replied rather sharply : "Well, for my part I don't like masculine women, and I'm sure, as a rule, men don't like them either.

I always say Paulina will be an old maid." "And you?" said the Captain, looking at his sister with a quizzical smile on his lips. " Oh, I," said Madge, laughing and blushing ; oh, I mean to be married — all girls do." " Honest, at least." "Yes," said Madge, looking up ; " and you may say what you like, men mean to get married just as much as girls do, and both fail sometimes, or change their minds perhaps." " Perhaps," said her brother quietly. " It was stupid of me to say that," thought Madge to herself ; " Fitzgerald doesn't like this kind of talk ; I wonder why not. I thought all officers were great flirts and couldn't talk of any thing but love. But perhaps Fitz has had his own little affaires de cœur, and doesn't like to talk about the subject. Well, I'll remember it, for I don't want him to take a dislike to me, or think me only a silly girl.

I hate the way he says 'girl,' it's contemptuous ; I must try to teach him to be more polite. Ah me, it's very hard to be sensible even to please one's brother. But then he's so old, nearly thirty ; well, he has no right to expect me to be as grave and steady as himself. I am afraid he'll be rather hard to amuse and entertain if he is much at home." Mrs. Hornby was sitting that evening by the fire in her dressing-room, waiting for the sound of wheels which would announce her husband's return from the great market-town where he carried on his business. There was no need to dress till he made his appearance, and she had much to think of. More than one subject of anxiety was pressing upon her, and with her other cares a feeling of vague suspicion had been creeping over her all day that some new trial was impending, and that from a quarter whence she had always hitherto received nothing but satisfaction.

So she waited, and listened, and feared. Hers was a patient nature, but yet if grief was to come, she longed to know it, and like many another wife she knew that much depended on her husband's mood. If things had been contrary during the day, if he should come in tired, she would have still to wait : no questions of hers would unloose his tongue unless he was in the right mood for conversation. The carriage wheels at last. The heavy foot steps on the stairs. Mrs. Hornby listened, heard Madge's voice answer the question, " Where's your mother ?" and her heart lost something of its weight. " Anything can be borne if only he will talk it 2 — over," she thought, and wife-like called up a smile to cover her anxiety and welcome him home. "Well, dear?" as she yielded her easy-chair to him, and stood over the fire in ready atten tion.

" I've had a busy day, Maggie," he said at length, " and " — there came a pause — " a worrying one." She waited, then as nothing further was said, inquired anxiously, " Had you time to call on Dr. Irons?" " Yes," absently ; " I made time, because I knew you were anxious." "And he said ?" " Yes, we had a long talk, not only about Fitz gerald, but Ernestine likewise ; you took her to see him last week, did you not ?" " Yes ; oh, what is it ? He did not speak seriously about her then ?" " Nor did he to me ; that is, he says he believes she may be perfectly well if she chooses — hard language, isn't it, Maggie ?" " Hard, indeed ; who would choose to be ill ?" " Not you or I, Maggie, nor indeed any one who, like us, have work to do and a wish to do it. But, do you know, I do believe there's a great deal of truth in what the old doctor said, if you'll be patient and hear it."

Mrs. Hornby submitted. "He said, if we could put ourselves in Ernestine's place (rather hard for him and me. Maggie), he thought we might understand a little what was likely to be her feeling. She is ailing, looks thin and delicate, has often headache, strange sensa tions, feels languid : mamma is very anxious about her, tries to save her all fatigue, is distressed to see her tearful, visitors inquire after the delicate daughter who looks consumptive : it is perhaps troublesome at first, then she grows accustomed to it, it becomes rather nice to be so loved, to be so petted, to be so interesting — do you see ?" " I see," said Mrs. Hornby, with evident self restraint, " that he thinks it is all fancy on Ernes tine's part, and that I have encouraged it." " No, my dear ; excuse me, how ladies do rush to conclusions.