Up Hill. A novel

Chapter I

"Malesuada fames, et turpis egestas." jpR. BRABAZON, a wealthy mer- I) chant, a widower with one child, was out all day, employed either in business or amusement. A nurse, who had taken the charge of little Arria from her birth, had chosen to marry, and had suggested, on her secession from office, that Miss Brabazon wanted a governess — a nursery governess, who would take the place vacated by her departure ; some one who would teach the young lady her books, for the dear child was not fond of her studies. Though she was over seven years old, she could not read " Mary and her Cat," nor "Jack the Giant Killer." VOL. I. B UP HILL. 2 The father looked puzzled, and the tender nurse became alarmed lest she should have suggested a perpetual torment for her darling. She thought of an invalid child she had once known, whose deformed limb was placed in irons, and of the feeling of relief the infant experienced during the hours when the constraint was removed.

To have lessons constantly dinned into Miss Arria's head, would be worse than the iron on the twisted knee of her former charge. " If you would like to have a daily governess, sir," said the nurse, " I know a nice young woman, daughter of tbe late Mr. Philtre, the apothecary ; he has just died, and the young lady means to go out as daily governess, till sbe can settle herself in a permanent situation. If you please, she might come for a little time, before — before I change my condition," continued Mrs. West borough, dropping a curtsey. "You need not look so mealy-mouthed over your marriage, Mrs. Westborough, it is not the first time, I believe." UP HLLL. 3 " No, sir," said the nurse, rather shame faced at having been detected in her little affectation of modesty. Mrs. Westborough had called herself a widow, with one child, when she had been engaged by the late Mrs. Reginald Brabazon.

The child was a fact ; but to be a widow one must have been a wife, and the wife hood was not proven. However, she was to the world a woman of unblemished character, and her conduct bore out the reputation. Nothing makes a horse so careful as having come down and cut his knees severely, and on some women the effect of a false step is similar. "Well! send the young lady to me," said the father. " I suppose she knows enough to teach a child of seven years." " Oh yes, sir ! and she seems so mild, and speaks so pretty ; and dear Miss Arria, she has her tempers sometimes, though she is a little angel in a general way. Bless you, sir ! gentlemen that's out all day don't under stand children." " Send word to Miss Philtre to call to- UP HLLL. 4 morrow at nine o'clock, to speak to me," concluded Mr. Brabazon.

Nurse stepped over to the shop of the late Philip Philtre, surgeon and apothecary. Miss Philtre was a young lady whom all would call comely, and most people beautiful. Her skin was faultless in tint, her hair a soft brown, in long curls on her shoulders ; her eyes light hazel, but in form and position they were higher towards the ears than at the nose ; the mouth ran up in the same line. " She would be a beautiful woman," said a gentleman, " if she did not so nearly resemble the fox in expression ; " and his hearers laughed, for the resemblance was striking when once the idea had been started. Not every one thought of the likeness ; and, as she was very meek in manner and sweet in voice, she was permitted to be considered, even by her own sex, as very charming. I speak advisedly when I say she was permitted to be considered very charming.

Women infinitely more beautiful could not have their claims to loveliness asserted with- UP HILL. 5 out a storm of negatives from their acquaint ances, such as stun the unfortunate speaker who, knight-errant like, sets his lance in rest to vindicate his favourite's claim to feminine perfection. " What ! that woman beautiful ? What next ? " cries one. " Where are your eyes ? " says another. " She has freckles ! so coarse ! her waist is clumsy ! one shoulder is grown out ! She is quite crooked ! and such thick ancles ! and / think she squints. I know where she buys her rouge and pearl powder. She has false hips, and bosom padded — dreadfully made up ! " Addison, or Steele, speaks of a romp club, into which the members seduce a prude, and pick off all her clothes, bit by bit, laughing like maniacs to see how miserable the creature looked de prived of her defences — like a chicken plucked alive.

I have often thought of the poor prude, when I have heard my countrywomen picking one of their own sex in pieces — " Now reputations fly in pieces Of mothers, sisters, aunts, and nieces." But it is not only the reputation for virtue, but UP HILL. 6 for beauty which is more the mark for spite ful tongues in the present day. Miss Philtre received the nurse very gra ciously. She could not afford to be otherwise than civil to any one. An inspection of her father's affairs had convinced her that, though she might keep on in the house till Christmas, as the rent would have to be paid to that period, she must dismiss the servants — the cook and the housemaid, and the little boy who cleaned knives and forks, and boots and shoes — because they could not be expected to live without food, and food she would have none to give them.

The deceased Philip Philtre had gone to the end of his financial tether some years before, and had been re duced to the necessity of paying ready money, not from a high feeling and dread of ex ceeding his income, but simply because no one would trust him. Poor Mr. Philtre ! He suffered from heartache, both mental and physical. They reacted on each other. Every monetary difficulty made his heart ache, from brain action on it. He had a secret comfort, which, like that possessed by UP HLLL. 7 the wanderer in the " Quadrupeds of Qued lingburg," "he would ne'er impart." It was amongst his drugs, and the relief it first gave to the palpitating breast was resorted to when the poor worried heart was doing its duty as well as it could. One morning he was called up by a priestess of Lucina, to attend one of the votaries of that goddess ,"■ but instead of waiting to usher a baby into the noisy hours of life, he chose himself to enter into the regions of eternal silence.

Phœbe found him sleeping the sleep that knows no waking. Something was under the unclasped fingers — a box containing opium. His medical brethren had always known of his embarrassed circulation, and there was no fuss made about his " death from natural causes," his dutiful daughter having extracted the small box of opium before she had given the alarm to any one when she discovered that he no longer lived. It is said that folks thrown together under circumstances of great privation become morose, careless of their mutual comfort, and that the survivors on a wreck forget — first UP HILL. politeness, then humanity. Persons exposed constantly to the grinding effects of long continued and increasing poverty lose first the outward signs of affection, and then its very existence. When it became doubtful if Mr. Philtre could obtain from the drug mer chant the solace for which he craved men tally and bodily, he had no sympathy to give Phœbe when she was unable to obtain credit for a pair of gloves wherewith to guard the whiteness of her well-shaped hands.

And Phœbe, who knew that papa ought not to indulge himself in such deleterious blessings, considered that he had better have given her some money to buy clothes in which she might appear decently at church. Phœbe had been hardened by adversity into a woman of action. She entered into a negotiation with a surgeon and apothecary to take the business left vacant by her father. She showed the books, and suggested what could be made of the patients whose names were therein entered. John Bath, Esq., a family midwifery case ; second child within twenty months ; likely to UP HILL. 9 produce an infant every year ; mother always ailing ; may safely be put down at twenty pounds per annum. Miss Crisp, a maiden lady of great wealth ; very fanciful about her health, and that of her dogs and birds ; a hundred per annum may certainly be calculated on from her, as she pays as much for attendance on her animals as she would for herself.

N.B. — The progeny increase even faster than the olive branches of John Bath, Esq. " My poor father," said the astute young lady, wiping her eyes, which did not require it, " was too liberal. He did not charge enough for the exercise of his skill. If it suits you, my dear Mr. Reach, to take his practice, you will excuse me if, as a person behind the curtain, I recommend you to be exceedingly moderate in your charges for the first twelve months. This laps the patients into security. They pay their bills. They think how well they have been let off — ' Dear Mr. Reach ! So attentive as he has been too ! ' Continue your assiduity during the following year. Be careful never to neglect a UP HILL. 10 f shopkeeper's wife for one of higher rank. They never forgive a slight of that kind. At the following Christmas you may indemnify yourself for your past forbearance.

They may open their eyes, grumble, use bad language, but if, my dear Mr. Reach, you are as clever in the use of your occasional oppor tunities, as I know you are in a general way, you will have wormed yourself so entirely into their confidences that they will find it very difficult indeed to cast you off, even if your charges are twice as high as before. One word more. Your surgery is not the only place where there is a skeleton con cealed. There is one in every closet in the neighbouring families. I can tell you where and how they are hidden. If they know that you are conscious of these ' spirits' mysteries,' your hold will be all the stronger. I need not warn you to keep your knowledge con cealed from Mrs. Reach. A secret once re vealed ceases to be profitable. It is not every woman who can keep her own secrets, much less her husband's. Any information I can give you is quite at your service."

UP HILL. 11 " I am really very grateful, Miss Philtre." "Yes," said the clever and not too refined Phœbe, " I can put you up to a thing or two. It is important that no gap should intervene between the death of my dear father and your succeeding him. Let the name of Philtre be painted out, and that of Reach put in its place. You would like to come into resi dence at once. Would it suit you to pay a sum down, or to give me an annuity till the money is paid ? You will take the furniture at a valuation, no doubt ; and about the sum for the goodwill of the business we will not make any disagreement." "Ahem! "said Mr. Reach. "I don't see how it can be managed, ma'am. You perceive you are a young lady — a — a — beautiful young lady, if you will permit me to say so, and I am a man — well, in the meridian of life, and not ill-looking," said the surgeon, with a simper; " and Mrs. Reach might not like my boarding and lodging so far from her " He stopped, for Phœbe's eyes, usually so soft and melting, were now aglow with anger, and her cheek, brow, and throat crimson with disdain.

UP HLLL. 12 "I anticipated that Mrs. Reach and your family would reside here at once, sir. Y'ou will be able to allow me the use of my own bed-room till I get a situation ; and your cook will boil my kettle night and morning. More I shall not require. Y'ou will pay the quarter's rent, of course. Before the ist of January I shall have obtained a situation as governess, I have no doubt, and then I shall trouble you no longer." The agreement was concluded, and then Phœbe stood for a few moments with her finger on her lip, meditating how she should dress herself when she called on Mr. Brabazon. She knew that in her mourning bonnet, with the black surrounding her fair skin, she was perfectly beautiful. Miss Philtre had never been in love, and she considered her per sonal charms as a commodity which might or might not be serviceable to her in her fight with the world.

The desire which makes the bird plume its feathers and display its brightest hues in the sunshine, to attract its mate, had never yet existed in a breast in which the hard effort to extract from society UP HILL. 13 clothing and food had stifled all feminine weaknesses. It was as if the bird only played its taught tricks for the attraction of a customer. It was this which made Phœbe hesitate. "If he sees that I am lovely, he, being a prudent merchant, will not engage me. He will be frightened, lest he should commit an absurdity for my sake. No, I must hide my light — not under a bushel, but a crape veil. My figure shall be clumsy " — she laughed grimly as she thought of the falling shoul ders, delicate waist, and full bosom ; and how easily she might, by a worsted shawl under her cloak, give herself shoulders which seemed to whisper to her ears, and one blade bone projecting beyond the other.

This spo liation of her figure grieved her more than the disfigurement of her face. There was another degradation to which she should submit herself. Phœbe had made the best use of her time at school, and had taught others and been taught herself. The masters had found her an apt, intelligent, and sub missive pupil ; and it was far more agree- UP HILL. 14 able to teach the beautiful assistant, and let the knowledge filter — as the punning music master said — into the brains of the pupils, than to attack the dullards themselves. But a woman too clever by half might be objected to by the merchant; — for, given youth and talent, even weighted by homely features and clumsy form, and a widower is a lost creature if his clever governess determines to marry him. She must simulate stupidity. Mr. Brabazon was told that the lady whom the nurse had mentioned had called to see him.

The merchant was scooping out the white at the bottom of an egg-shell when the announcement was made. " Show her into my study.' The study was one of those rooms, comfortable in the opinion of those who dwell in great cities, terrible to the dwellers in wild fresh downs or hillsides, where few efforts are made to arrest the checkless winds in their career through the houses. No sun had ever shone on that library of Mr. Brabazon's ; for, with the best intentions, Sol could not turn a corner, when his beams shot for half-an- UP HILL. 15 hour down into the square leaded quadrangle which conducted to the offices at the back of No. — , Charles Street. The light received, putting aside gas, was like the thought of a feeble mind — the reflection of a reflection. Moreover, the windows had ever a grimy look, as London windows generally have, espe cially at the backs of houses.

There were handsome rows of books, but Mr. Brabazon never touched them ; had he done so, his fingers would have been as black as if he had rubbed them against the back of the chimney. The Times newspaper, always placed neatly cut on his breakfast-table, sufficed for his day's reading. " Pray be seated, ma'am," he said, as Phœbe rose at his entrance. " No fear of my falling in love with such a Hottentot ! " he added mentally. " I understood, sir, that you required a governess for your daughter ? " " A nursery governess, who is to be a day governess," said Mr. Brabazon. " Exactly, sir ; I do not consider myself qualified by my acquirements to take a situa- UP HILL. tion where more would be expected of me. I can teach a young child the rudiments of music, as well as the usual amount of English education."

"That is all that will be necessary, madam. What sum would you think a sufficient pecu niary recompense for your time and trouble ?" Phœbe, fearful of asking too much, men tioned a pound a week ; which Mr. Brabazon considered moderate, as the governess would not have her meals in the house. "We will consider the matter settled, madam." " Shall I not see my future pupil, sir ? Mr. Brabazon rang the bell. " Tell nurse to bring Miss Arria here." There was a delay of ten minutes, during which time Mr. Bra bazon did not know what to say to the daughter of the deceased apothecary, whom he considered only in the light of an upper servant. She sat, an unseemly-looking lump, with her back to the light, in profound silence. Mr. Brabazon longed to look once more at the price of Foreign Stocks, but he piqued himself upon being a perfect gentleman, and UP HILL. ■7 refrained.

He was just going to observe that there had been rain for the last three days, but was saved from that truism by the pat tering sounds of little feet, and nurse intro duced Miss Brabazon into the room. Arria entered smiling, and was going towards her papa, when she perceived the lump of crape and bombazine, and stopped suddenly, clinging to her nurse's skirts. " Come here, and speak to this lady, Arria," said her father ; " she is going to teach you to read pretty stories, and to be a good girl." " I hate reading," said Arria, " and I had rather be a naughty girl, and scream when I please." " Will you not come and shake hands with me ?" said Miss Philtre. " I am sure we shall be good friends." " No, thank you." "Why not?" and the tight-fitting black kid glove was extended from the crape trimmed cloak.

" Because I don't like you," said the child. " Ah ! you will learn to do so by-and-by, my sweet child," said the young lady coaxingly. vol. I. C UP HLLL. 18 '"Tis only that missie is scared by the black, ma'am. She will feel quite different by-and-by," and nurse was herself scared by the extraordinary alteration in Miss Philtre. Miss Philtre said "No doubt," curtseying to Air. Brabazon, and departed, proposing to come in the afternoon for a couple of hours to make his daughter's acquaintance. She left the house grinding her teeth with rage both against the father and the daughter. " All in good time, miss," she said. She had been trained in the best way to overcome untract able children, having had the teaching and general management of the youngest classes in the schools where she had bartered her services for tuition.

Many had been the slights and vexations lavished by the wealthy young ladies on the poor teacher — treatment which she endured with unfailing sweetness. But with the small children she had the strength and venom of a serpent. She coiled herself round their lives. They dared not complain ; for no one would have l»elieved any accusation against one so gentle. No one but Miss Philtre knew so well how to UP HILL. 19 keep an ailing child quiet. " No doubt," the mistresses said, " she had derived the know ledge from her father, who 'was a doctor." Little creatures turning half delirious on their pillows, and shouting their wild fancies from one end to the other of the dormitory, sunk into half-uttered sobs when Miss Philtre fixed her eyes on them. "See how excellent a manager is that girl," said Mrs. Wise, the head mistress.

" She has no occasion to utter a syllable, and there is profound silence in the room. Nurse Clayter is not to be compared to her." Miss Wright, the second mistress, suggested that she probably had uttered some very efficient syllables on other occasions, and that the pupils remembered these as soon as she appeared. " We have nothing to do with that, Miss Wright. She keeps them in order ; and it is far better for the children, and for us. Children are never half so uncomfortable as when they are irritated by expectation of the uncertain results of contention. If they know that they must give way it saves a great deal UP HILL 20 of trouble to their elders and of pain to them." Miss Philtre appeared in the afternoon at No. — , Charles Street, and having ascertained that Mr. Brabazon would not return before she left the house, she ventured to remove the disfiguring shawl, and throwing off her cloak and bonnet, she presented a charming ap pearance to her little pupil.

She had thought of arming herself with three ounces of acidu lated drops from the surgery ; but she wisely concluded that the commodity most requisite for her pleasure was not bonbons, of which she must have had a surfeit, but brains. Miss was a bad hand at her book, the nurse had said. Miss Philtre had seldom met any one who did not prefer hearing a story told to reading it. There is such a charm in a good narrator ! There was the same repugnance to going near the new governess on the part of Arria. "Nurse, let me sit in the drawing-room. The child will not mind me so much in the room, if she has no disagreeable recoUections of A B C," said Miss Philtre. UP HLLL. 21 " Certainly, miss ; anything to please the poor darling. She will feel bad enough when I am gone." Miss Philtre drew near the polished grate, which reflected the glow of a well-burnt fire, and placed her well-shaped feet on a hassock near it.

Nurse, with Miss Arria clinging to her apron, came to the opposite side of the hearth, nurse intending after a little space to slip away. *' Once upon a time," Phœbe began, "there was a little girl" — the child looked up — " who lived in a wood." " St. John's Wood ?" said Arria. " Bless her little heart ! " cried nurse, " she don't remember anything about any country place. Master has not been down to Silver Waters since missus died — he says 'tis so dull in the shires." " You have been in Kensington Gardens ? said the lady. " Oh, yes ; she has been there." " Very well. A wood is like that, only the trees are all close together, and there are no nice people walking about. No nice people," said Phœbe, inventing as she proceeded; "but UP HLLL. 22 the wood was full of little ugly dwarfs. They were always busy— always talking, walking, shoving other dwarfs about, and trying to climb on higher branches of trees than the others could reach.

Sometimes a dwarf who had climbed up higher than the rest was within reach of golden apples that grew up on the highest branches. Then other dwarfs would come round the trunk of the tree, and fall down on their little twisted knees, and clasp their knotted fingers, and wring their hideous small faces into supplicating gri maces that the climbing dwarf would throw down one or two little golden apples on their beads. Sometimes he did ; sometimes he did not. It depended whether or not he could put his hand on them easily. But if he over reached himself and fell in trying to climb higher and get more golden apples, the dwarfs below would squeeze up little sorrowful eyes, and try to weep and lament over his misfor tunes, and after they had seen that he was too much hurt to climb again, they would turn away their heads, and laugh amongst themselves right merrily."

UP HILL. 23 " But about the little girl ? " cried Arria. " I don't like the ugly dwarfs." " The little girl," said Phœbe Philtre, looking at her pupil, "was a very pretty child. Her eyes were large dark-blue eyes, with dark eyelashes, and eyebrows not quite so dark, a funny little nose, and a very small mouth." Here the wise young lady had given a likeness of her pupil, to which she gave point by looking at her eyes, nose, and mouth as she spoke. Arria blushed, partly from the scrutiny, and partly from suspecting that she was the little girl talked about; and her interest deepened. "This little girl was very ragged and uncared for " " Was she a dwarf, like the rest ? " asked Arria. " She was not settled into a dwarf, because she was so young ; but she was learning all their ugly dwarfish ways," replied Phœbe.

" There were old fat dwarfs who came and preached to her, and told her she must be good, and not scream, and told her that they UP HILL. 24 had a map of the planet Mercury, and that she must believe the map was a true one ; otherwise she would go to a bad place when she died. She did not think she could be worse off than she was, she said ; for she was beaten and kicked, and told she was quite deficient in gratitude for all the blessings she enjoyed, because she was in everybody's way, and when she stole a few chestnuts, the she dwarfs told her she would go to a place of burning torment. However, one of the fat old dwarfs told her that she might steal as much as she pleased if she believed in the truth of his map of the planet Mercury ; but if she did not believe it was true, the dwarfs who did believe in it should make a bonfire, and burn her in the midst.

So she said she would believe that the sun was black, the moon blue, rather than be burnt. She did not know anything about the planet Mercury, and had never seen it ; but she was quite willing to assent to what the fat dwarf said. Then he went away, and a thin dwarf came, and said the fat dwarf's map was all wrong ; his was the only good one. She should be UP HILL. 25 burnt if she did not believe in his map. ' All right,' she said ; ' anything for a quiet life. I had rather not be burnt.' She was so frightened by the fear of it all, that she stole away from the she dwarfs, who were busy picking up acorns, and went into the trunk of a hollow tree, where no one could see' her. There she fell asleep, for the weather was hot, and little bright-eyed butterflies came and perched on her hair, and green lizards ran a little way on her old frock, and stared very hard, and then seeing her breast heave as she breathed, they went away again.

As she slept, a beautiful spirit came, with flow ing hair, that shone like gold, and gauzy wings, and took her by the hand, and she got up quite light, and seemed to rise in the air by tbe side of the beautiful youth. And he took her to another world, quite out of the reach of the ugly dwarfs. He put a crown of lilies on her head, and gave her delicious fruits to eat and sparkling water to drink." " I like wine best," interrupted Arria ; " fizzy ! " " I daresay she had wine too ; but it was UP HILL. 26 only in a dream, Arria. And presently an ugly old she dwarf saw a bit of her hair outside the trunk of the tree, and came and gave it a pull, and dragged the little girl out, and beat her for being so lazy as to sleep in the middle of the day." The child gave a long sigh. "What next ?" she said, looking eagerly at Miss Philtre.

" Next is that I must go home now. The two hours of your lesson are over." " Over already ! When will you come again ? " "To-morrow morning, at eleven o'clock." " Will you tell me more about the little girl and the dwarfs ? " " Yes, if you are good." That was an unfortunate proviso " You shall stay now, and tell me about the girl and the dwarfs," said Miss Arria. "If you don't stay, I'll be naughty and scream. Oh, how I will scream ! " " You had better not," said the governess. " For I shall not come back at all, un less I hear that you are good. I shall ask nurse." UP HILL. 27 " Nurse will tell falsehoods to please me," said the little girl meditatively. Miss Philtre rang the bell for nurse to re sume her charge. Arria appealed to her at once, with her face puckering up into a roar — " Make her stay with me, and tell me about the wood full of little dwarfs," she said, ex ploding with the last word, which lengthened into a cry which seemed to prolong the first letter of the alphabet to a minute's duration.