Page images
PDF
EPUB

that surprised him in her, when she fell | mer to invite the boy again for a long ill herself, and before her husband time -so long that his mother bitterly reached home had died in his father's repented not having accepted the first

arms.

All the children recovered. John Mortimer took them home, and for, the first six months after her death he was miserably disconsolate. It was not because they had been happy, but because they had been so very comfortable. He aggravated himself into thinking that he could have loved her more if he had only known how soon he should lose her; he looked at all their fine, healthy, joyous children, and grieved to think that now they were his only.

invitation. She had an aunt living at Dartmouth, and whenever her boy was invited by John Mortimer, she meant to bring him herself, giving out that she was on her way to visit that relative.

Who knew what might happen?

Mr. John Mortimer was a fine man, tall, broad-shouldered, and substantial-looking, though not at all stout. His perfect health and teeth as white as milk made him look even younger than he was. His countenance, without being decidedly handsome, was fine and very agreeable. His hair was light, of the Saxon hue, and his complexion was fair.

But the time came when he knew that he could have loved her much more if she would have let him; and when he had Thus he had many advantages; but found out that, womankind in general Mrs. Peter Melcombe felt that as the went down somewhat in his opinion. He mother of a child so richly endowed, and made up his mind, as he thought, that he as the possessor of eight hundred a year would not marry again; but this, he knew in order that he might be suitably in his secret heart, was less for her sake brought up, she was a desirable match than for his own. also. She did not mean the boy to cost

Then, being of an ardently affectionate | her much for several years to come, and nature, and having now no one to re-till he came of age (if he lived) she had strain it, he began to study his children that handsome old house to live in. Old with more anxious care, and consider Augustus Mortimer, on the other hand, their well-being with all his might.

The children of middle-aged people seem occasionally to come into the world ready tamed. With a certain old-fashioned primness, they step sedately through the paths of childhood. So good, so easy to manage, so-uninteresting.

was very rich, she knew; he was a banker and his only son was his partner. Sure to inherit his banking business and probably heir to his land.

Mrs. Peter Melcombe had some handsome and becoming raiment made, and waited with impatience; for in addition The children of the very young have to Mr. John Mortimer's worldly advansometimes an extra allowance of their tages she found him attractive. father's youth in their blood. rate the little Mortimers had.

At any

Their joy was ecstatic, their play was fervent, and as hard as any work. They seemed month by month to be crowding up to their father, in point of stature, and when he and they all went about the garden together, some would be treading on his heels, the select two who had hold of his arms would be shouting in his ears, and the others, dancing in front, were generally treading on his toes, in their desire to get as near as possible and inform him of all the wonderful things that were taking place in this new and remarkable world.

So did some other people. John Mortimer's troubles on that head began very soon after the sending of his first invitation to Mrs. Melcombe, when the excellent elderly lady who taught the little Mortimers (and in a great measure kept his house) let him know that she could no longer do justice to them. They got on so fast, they had such spirits, they were so active and so big that she felt she could not cope with them. Moreover, the three eldest were exceptionally clever, and the noise made by the whole tribe fatigued her.

John sent his eldest boy to school, promised her masters to help her, and an Into this family the lonely little heir of assistant governess, but she would not the Melcombes was shortly invited to stay, and with her went for a time much come for awhile, but for some trivial rea-of the comfort of that house. son his mother declined the invitation, at the same time expressing her hope that Mr. Mortimer would kindly renew it some other time.

It was not convenient to John Morti

Mr. Mortimer easily got another governess-a very pretty young lady who did not, after a little while, take much interest in the children, but certainly did take an interest in him. She was always

contriving to meet him-in the hall, on the stairs, in the garden. Then she looked at him at church, and put him so out of countenance and enraged him, and made him feel so ridiculous, that one day he took himself off to the Continent, and kept away till she was gone.

Having managed that business, he got another governess, and she let him alone, and the children too, for they completely got the better of her; used to make her romp with them, and sometimes went so far as to lock her into the schoolroom. It was not till this lady had taken her leave and another had been found that Mr. John Mortimer repeated his invitation to little Peter Melcombe. His mother brought him, and according to the programme she had laid down, got herself invited to stay a few days.

She had no trouble about it. Mr. John Mortimer no sooner saw Mrs. Melcombe than he expressed a hospitable, almost a fervent hope, that she could stay a week with him.

Of course Mrs. Melcombe accepted the invitation, and he was very sociable and pleasant; but she thought the governess (a very grand lady indeed) took upon herself more than beseemed her, and smiled at her very scornfully when she ventured to say sweet things to John Mortimer on her own great love for children, and on the charms of his children in particular.

Peter was excessively happy. His mother's happiness in the visit was soon over. She shortly found out that an elderly Scotch lady, one Miss Christie Grant, an aunt of the late Mrs. Daniel Mortimer, was to come in a few days and pay a long visit, and she shrewdly suspected that the attractive widower being afraid to remain alone in his own house, made arrangements to have female visitors to protect him, and hence the invitation to her. But she had to leave Peter at the end of the week, and which of the two) ladies when they parted hated the other most it might be difficult to determine.

a

ing with his young friends a fortnight he was much damaged in his outer man, as indeed he was also in his youthful heart, for the smallest of all the Mortimers lovely little child about three years old took entire possession of it; and when he was not up a tree with the boys in a daring hunt after bergamy pears, or wading barefoot in a shallow stream at the bottom of the garden catching waterbeetles, caddis-worms, and other small cattle for a fresh-water aquarium, he was generally carrying this child about the garden pickaback, or otherwise obeying her little behests, and assuring her of his unalterable love.

Poor little Peter! After staying fully six weeks with the Mortimers his time came to be taken home again, and his mother, who spent two days with them on her way northwards, bore him off to the railway, accompanied by the host and most of his children. Then he suddenly began to feel the full meaning of the misfortune that had fallen on him, and he burst into wailings and tears. His tiny love had promised to marry him when she was grown up; his two little friends had given him some sticklebacks, packed in wet moss; they were now in his pockets, as were also some water-beetles in a. paper bag; the crown of his cap was full of silkworms carefully wrapped in mulberry-leaves; but all these treasures. could not avail to comfort him for loss of the sweet companionship he had enjoyed

for the apples he had crunched in the big dog's kennel when hiding with another little imp from the nurse-for the common possession they had enjoyed of some young rats dug out of the bank of the stream, and more than all, for the tender confidences there had been between them as to the endless pranks they spent their lives in, and all the mischief they had done or that they aspired to

do.

John Mortimer having a keen sympathy with childhood, felt rue at heart for the poor little blinking, sobbing fellow; but to invite him again might be to have his mother also, so he let him go, handing in from his third daughter's arms to the young heir a wretched little blind puppy and a small bottle of milk to feed it with

It cannot be said with truth that Peter regretted his mother's departure. The quantity of mischief he was taught (of a not very heinous description) by two sweet little imps of boys younger than himself, kept him in a constant state of on the way. joyous excitement. His grandmother If anything could comfort a boy, this having now been dead a year and a quar- precious article could. So the Mortiter, his mourning had been discarded, mer boys thought. So in fact it proved. and his mother had been very impressive As the train moved off they heard the in her cautions to him not to spoil his sobs of Peter and the yelping of the new clothes, but before he had been stay-puppy, but before they reached their hapLIVING AGE. VOL. IX. 463

they

py home he had begun to nurse the little niece's children, are ye - Mrs. Daniel beast in his arms, and derive consolation Mortimer's? I wonder at ye from watching its movements and keep-were just nothing to these." ing it warm.

[blocks in formation]

Here Mr. Swan, having unlocked the door, dived into the fruit-house, and occupied himself for some moments in recovering his self-possession and making his selection; then emerging with an armful of pears, he shouted after Miss Christie Grant, who had got a good way down the walk by this time.

"I don't deny, ma'am, that these air aggravating now and then, but anyhow they haven't painted my palings pink and

"WELL, anyhow," observed Mr. Nicho-my door pea-green." las Swan, the gardener, when the children came home and told him how Peter had cried "anyhow, there's one less on you now to run over my borders. He was as meek as Moses, that child was, when first he came, but you soon made him as audacious as any of you."

"So they did, Nicholas dear," said one of the twins, a tall, dark-haired child. "Oh, it's Nicholas dear, is it, Miss Barbara? Well, now, what next?"

[ocr errors]

Why, the key of the fruit-housewe want the key."

[ocr errors]

Key, indeed! Now, there's where it is. Make a wry path through your fields, and still you'll walk in it! I never ought to ha' got in the habit of lending you that key. What's the good of a key if a man can never keep it in his pocket? When I lived up at Mr. Daniel Mortimer's, the children never had my key never."

"Well, come with us, then, and give us out the pears yourself. We won't

take one."

[merged small][ocr errors]

"I left Mr. Mortimer's, I did, because I couldn't stand the children; and now the world's a deal fuller of 'em than it

Miss Christie returned. She seldom took the part of any children, excepting for the sake of argument or for family reasons; and she felt at that moment that the Daniel. Mortimers were related to her, and that these, though they called her "aunt," were not.

"Ye should remember," she observed, with severity, "that ye had already left your house when they painted it."

"Remember it!" exclaimed the gardener, straightening himself; "ay, ay, I remember it-coming along the lane that my garden sloped down to, so that every inch of it could be seen. It had been all raked over, and there, just out of the ground, growing up in mustard-andcress letters as long as my arm, I saw This genteel residence to let, lately occu pied by N. Swan, Esq. I took my hobnailed boots to them last words, and I promise you I made the mustard-andcress fly."

"Well, ye see," observed Miss Christie, who was perfectly serious, "there is great truth in your saying that those children did too much as they pleased; but ye must consider that Mr. Mortimer didn't like to touch any of them, because they were not his own."

"That's just it, ma'am, and Mrs. Morwas then. No, Miss Gladys, I'm not timer didn't like to touch any of them agoing any faster; I wouldn't run, if it because they were her own; so between was ever so. When the, contrac' was the two they got to be, I don't say as bad signed of my wages it was never wrote as these, but- "here he shook his head, down that I had to run at any time." and leaning his back to the fruit-house And having now reached the fruit-door, began diligently to peel the fruit house, he was just pulling out his big for an assembly, silent, because eating. key, when something almost like shame" As for Master Giles," he went on, more showed itself in his ruddy face as a de- to torment the old lady than to disparage cided and somewhat mocking voice addressed him.

the gentleman in question, "before ever he went to school, he chalked a picture "Well, Nicholas, I'm just amazed at that he called my arms on the tool-house ye! I've lived upward of sixty years in door, three turnips as natural as life, and this island, Scotland and England both, a mad kind of bird flourishing its wings and never did I see a man got over so by about, that he said was a swan displayed. children in my life! Talking of my 'Underneath, for a morter, was wrote,

'All our geese air swans.' Now what do | Janie and Bertie and Hugh and Nancy you call that for ten years old ?"

[ocr errors]

Well, well," said Aunt Christie, "that's nearly twenty years ago."

Then the fruit being all finished, N. Swan, Esq., shut up his clasp-knife, and the story being also finished, his audience ran away, excepting Miss Christie, to whom he said

were about, these staunch little friends of his were unconsciously doing the greatest damage to his future prospects

to their most important part, as he understood them, namely, his chance of coming to see the Mortimers again.

Miss Christie Grant always presided over the schoolroom breakfast, and John "But I was fond of those children, Mortimer, unless he had other visitors, you'll understand, though they were pow-breakfasted alone, generally coming down. erful plagues." just after his children's meal was over, and having a selection of them with him morning by morning.

66 Swan,' ," said the old lady, "ye'll never be respectit by children. You're just what ye often call yourself, soft."

On this occasion, just as he came down, his children darted out of the window, exclaiming, "Oh, there's Mr. Brandon down the garden - Mr. Brandon's come."

John walked to the window, and looked out with a certain scrutinizing interest; for it was but a few weeks since a somewhat important visitor had left old Dan

"And what's the good of being rough with 'em, ma'am? I can no more make 'em sober and sensible than I could straighten out their bushes of curly hair. No, not though I was to take my best rake to it. They're powerful plagues, bless 'em! but so far as I can see, we're in this world mainly to bring them for-iel Mortimer's house one concerning rard in it. I remember when my Joey was a very little chap, he was playing by me with a tin sword that he was proud of. I was sticking peas in my own garden, and a great hulking sergeant came by, and stopped a minute to ask his road. 'Don't you be afraid of me,' says Joey, very kind. I won't hurt 'e.' That man laughed, but the water stood in his eyes. He'd lost such a one, he said. Children air expensive, but it's very cutting to lose 'em. I've never seen any of the Mortimers in that trouble yet, though."

66

whom the neighbourhood had decided that she certainly ought to become Mrs. Giles Brandon, and that it would be an odd thing, if Mr. Brandon did not think so. If he did, there was every appearance that she did not, for she had gone away all but engaged to his young brother Valentine.

"He looks dull, decidedly dull, since Miss Graham left them," soliloquized John Mortimer. "I thought so the last time I saw him, and now I am sure of it. Poor fellow," he continued with a half"And you've been many a long year smile. "I can hardly fancy him a lover, with them too," observed Miss Christie. but, if he does care for that graceful little Ay, ma'am. Some folks air allers for sea-nymph, it is hard on him that such a change, but I've known when I was well shallow-pated boy as Valentine should off and they've known when they were stand in his light;" and he stepped well off." Mr. Swan said this in a some-out to meet his guest, who was advanwhat pragmatical tone, and continued, cing in the midst of the children, while at "There's nothing but a long course of the same time they shouted up at the just dealing and respect o' both sides as open schoolroom window that Nancy can buy such digging as this here family must come down directly and see her gets out of my spade." godfather.

"Very true," said Miss Christie, who did not appear to see anything peculiar in this self-eulogy.

The grand lady-governess looked out in a becoming morning costume. "A fine young man," she remarked to Miss Christie Grant.

"But some folks forget," continued Mr. Swan, "that transplanted trees won't "Yes, that's my oldest nephew, St. grow the first year, and others want too George they call him. Giles Brandon is much for their money, and too good of his name, but his mother aye disliked the its kind; but fair and softly, thinks I;name of Giles, thought it was only fit for. you can't buy five shillings with three- a ploughman. So she called him St.

will be."

pence-halfpenny in any shop that I ever George, and that's what he is now, and heerd of; and when you've earned half-acrown you can't be paid it in gold."

The next morning, while Peter sat at breakfast revolving in his mind the delights he had lost, and wondering what

Miss Christie Grant said this with a certain severity of manner, but she hardly knew how to combine a snubbing to the lady for her betrayal of interest in all

the bachelors round, with her desire to boast of this relative. So she presently went on in a more agreeable tone. "His mother married Mr. Daniel Mortimer; he is an excellent young man. Has no debts and has been a great traveller. In short a year and a half ago, he was shipwrecked, and as nearly lost his life as possible. He was picked up by Captain Graham, whose granddaughter (no, I think Miss Graham is the old gentleman's niece) has been staying this summer with Mr. Daniel Mortimer. Mr. Brandon, ye'll understand, is only half-brother to Valentine Mortimer, whom ye frequently see."

"Oh yes, I do," answered Brandon. "I've often read about them. Some people think a good deal of them, but I never could see the fun of having them myself, and," he continued, "I never noticed any about your premises, John."

"No," answered John Mortimer, following his lead; "they would be no use for the children to play with."

"Do they scratch, then?" inquired the little Anastasia.

"No, my beauty bright, but I'm told they only wake up when it's too dark for children to play."

"Peter's ghost doesn't," observed Master Bertram. "He came in the morn

Did he steal anything?" inquired Brandon, still desirous, it seemed, to throw dirt at the great idea.

"Oh no, he didn't steal," said the other little boy, "that's not what they're for." "What did he say then?"

Valentine was too young to interesting." the grand lady, but when by a combined carelessness of manner with judicious questioning she had discovered that the so-called St. George had a moderate independence, and prospects besides, she felt a longing wish to carry down little Anastasia herself to see her godfather, and was hardly restrained from doing so by that sense of propriety which never forsook her. In the mean time Brandon passed out of view into the room where breakfast was spread, and the little Anastasia, so named because her birth had taken place on Easter-day, was brought down smiling in her sister Barbara's

arms.

Peter's little love, a fair and dimpled creature, was forthwith accommodated with a chair close to her godfather, while the twins withdrew to practise their duets, and more viands were placed on the table.

"He gave a deep sigh, but he didn't say nothink."

Ghosts," said Bertie, following up his brother's speech as one who had full information -"ghosts are not birds, they don't come to lay eggs for you, or to be of any use at all. They come for you to be afraid of. Didn't you know that, father?"

John was too much vexed to answer, and Peter's chance from that moment of ever entering those doors again was not worth a rush.

It

"But you needn't mind, father dear," said Janie, the eldest child present, "Peter's ghost won't come here. The children then began to wait on doesn't belong to 'grand,' or to any of their father and his guest, and during a us. Its name was Melcombe, and it came short conversation which ensued con- from the sea, that they might know it cerning Mrs. Peter Melcombe and her was dead." John and Brandon looked boy, they were quite silent, till a pause at one another. The information was took place and the little Anastasia lifted far too circumstantial to be forgotten by up her small voice and distinguished her- the children, who continued their conself by sayingfidences now without any more irrever"Fader, Peter's dot a dhost in his dar-ent interruptions. "Mrs. Melcombe gave den." Peter four balf-crowns to give to nurse, "Got a ghost!" exclaimed John Mor-and he had to say 'Thank you, nurse, timer, with a look of dismay; for ghosts were the last things he wished his children to hear anything about.

"Yes," said the youngest boy Hugh, "he says he's going to be rather a grand gentleman when he's grown up, but he wishes he hadn't got a ghost."

"Then why doesn't he sell it, Huey?" asked the guest with perfect gravity.

The little fellow opened his blue eyes wider. "I don't think you know what ghosts are," he remarked.

for your kindness to me;' but nurse wasn't kind, she didn't like Peter, and she slapped him several times."

"And Mrs. Melcombe gave some more shillings to Maria," said Bertie.

"Like the garden slug," observed Brandon, "leaving a trail of silver behind her."

The said Maria, who was their little nurse-maid, now came in to fetch away the children.

"Isn't this provoking," exclaimed John

« PreviousContinue »