Chapter 7

Helen was very grateful for the suggestion, and the good Doctor promised to make the requisite inquiries next day. While they were thus chatting together, the two little girls were amusing themselves in the drawing room, which communicated with the parlour by folding doors, and just as the Doctor was remarking how quiet they were, the piano was struck, and a pretty sonata played. Mrs. Sherman was surprised to find it was Fanny, and still more so, on hearing that Helen had been her sole instructress, as she played very prettily. The Doctor, who was passionately fond of music, was then very anxious to hear Helen play, and asked her to do so, but kind feeling restrained him from urging her, when she gave her reason, which, I need not tell the reader, was the recent death of her mother.

The evening passed off very cheerfully, and Helen found, ere she left Mrs. Sherman's, she had secured warm friends in her and her excellent husband. It was agreed that, on the following day, she should her introduced to several families, where she would be likely to obtain pupils; and so successful were Mrs. Sherman's efforts, that she had the promise of six to commence with on the following Monday, and ere a month had elapsed, three more were added to the number.

I should before have mentioned, that, on the death of her mother, Helen had written to an aunt, who was in great affluence, informing her of the sad event, from whom she received a cool letter of condolence, but not the slightest offer of assistance.

Finding it necessary to forward certificates of her parents' marriage, as well as those of her own and the children's baptism, she wrote to her aunt, for information as to where she might obtain them. In reply, she informed her where she could get them, and then concluded, by offering her and Fanny an asylum, for such she termed it, if for their board, Helen would instruct her three cousins. She took care to insinuate, that as doing this, would involve additional expense, she must be content to be received as a mere stranger; she would be expected even to assist in the family needle work. Fanny, Mrs. Selwyn said, would not require much clothing to be purchased, as two of her cousins were older than she, was, and never half wore their things out, adding, as Helen, would in all probability, obtain the compassionate allowance, it might, with care, clothe her and help Henry, if he needed anything. She finished her heartless letter, by saying: of course, Helen would try and find a place for him, as he must not, she said, be too particular _now_. Helen read, and re-read it, and then bursting into tears, fell on her knees, and thanked her Heavenly Father, who had given her the means, by honest industry, of saving herself and little ones the bitter pang of eating the bread of dependence. After this, with what heartfelt thankfulness, did she sit down with them, to their frugal meal.

She wrote and respectfully declined her aunt's offer. The fact of the matter was this: Mrs. Selwyn had heard of Helen's successful attempt, and though she held no communication with her sister,--Willoughby, after that lady had offended her father by marrying, yet she had little doubt of Helen's capability; and thought, after the energy and self reliance she had manifested, she might, for she was, though rich, a most parsimonious woman, turn it to her own account and for a few years, at least, get her children cheaply educated. It was Helen's determination, if she obtained the compassionate allowance, to keep it, as a reserve for her brother's education. She mentioned her intention to Dr. Sherman, who expressed his warm approval of her plan.

One day, Nancy, who had been to the shop for groceries, came in, very hastily, to the room Helen and Mrs. Cameron were sitting in.

"Oh, Miss Helen! do you know, while I was waiting in Mrs. Conway's shop, who should come in, but Peggy Smith, to say she was going to leave, the place, and go to her mother, a long way off, as she was, all along, so sickly, and she herself but a lone woman here; well she's going to sell that nice cow, and let the field that joins our little paddock, which she holds on lease. Now, I know that cow is a first-rate milker, and I thought if you would buy her, as I have a good deal of time, I could soon clear the five pounds, which is all she asks for it; she will calve in a month, and Mrs. Conway will take all the butter we don't want."

"It will be a capital thing, Helen," said Mrs. Cameron, "if Nancy understands how to manage her."

"I should think, ma'am, I did, when I was brought up in a dairy all my life, till I went to live with Mrs. Willoughby, and mother's been sick two months at a time, and I made all the butter and cheese too."

Mrs. Cameron told Helen, she had no doubt it might be made quite a profitable investment, as Nancy was such a good manager, and even offered to lend the money, but Helen had so well economised her little stock, this was not required.

Weeks and months passed away, but no satisfactory, or indeed, any answer at, all could be obtained as to the compassionate allowance. At last, Dr. Sherman wrote again to the War Office, and received an answer, saying, the request could not be complied with, on the ground that Captain Willoughby's death was not properly authenticated, though it was not, in the least, doubted, as a miniature of Mrs. Willoughby, and his pocket book, were found in the breast of a dead major, a friend of his, and in the same regiment, it was supposed, that he consigned them to the major, in his dying moments. The grant, therefore, could not be allowed while the essential document was wanting.

Among her pupils, she gave lessons in music at their own house, to the Misses Falkner. One morning, being tired of waiting which she invariably had to do, she sat down to the instrument to pass away the time. One of her favorite songs lay before her on the Piano, and she almost unconsciously struck the keys and played the accompaniment, and sang it. Hardly had she finished, than Miss Falkner came in; exclaiming, as she did so, "what, you here, Mr. Mortimer! how long have you been waiting?" not taking the slightest notice of Helen.

"Some time," said he, "but both my apology, and thanks, are due to this lady, for the high treat, she has afforded me. I was standing outside the veranda, when she entered and seeing it was a stranger, was going off, when she commenced a favorite air of mine, and I was spell bound! but you will introduce me, will you not?

"Oh yes, certainly," said Miss Falkner in a hesitating tone. "It is the young person to whom Julia goes to school, and who gives me, and Eliza lessons in music; Miss Willoughby," here she stopped; she did not even add the gentleman's name. "I am sorry Miss Willoughby," said she "I cannot take my lesson to-day, and therefore need not detain you."

Helen colored, and bowing left the room, the stranger rose, opened the door for her, and accompanied her to the street door, when he again bowed his head respectfully.

When he returned to the room, Miss Falkner rallied him on his politeness, to the village governess, as she contemptuously, styled Helen.

"Village queen! I think," said he, "for she certainly has a most dignified, and ladylike bearing, and is very good looking too."

"Well, I do declare Mr. Mortimer, you have quite lost your heart."

"By no means my dear Miss Falkner, it is not quite so vulnerable. A lovely face and graceful form alone, will never win it: even with the addition of such a syren's voice as Miss Willoughby possesses; she sings, not only sweetly, but scientifically."

"Of course," said she, "if people are to get their living by their talents, they ought to be well cultivated."

So little accustomed, since the death of her mother, to kindness from the world in general, and made to feel, so keenly, her dependant situation, Helen fully appreciated the respectful deference accorded to her by the stranger.

Her pupils increased so, that in a short time, she had twelve, besides several for accomplishments but the Misses Falkner, for reasons best known to themselves, declined her future instructions, and just as she was preparing to go to them a day or two after being, so cavalierly dismissed, Mrs. Falkner was announced at the cottage. She came, she said, to pay the bill, and say her daughters would discontinue their lessons:

"Of course," she said, "you will only charge for the time you actually came to them."

Helen quietly replied, "that she should certainly expect the quarter they had commenced, to be paid for." She knew they could afford it, and she felt it due to those she laboured for, not to throw away one penny.

"Well," said Mrs. Falkner, "this comes of patronizing nobody knows who, it is just what one might expect."

"Madam," said Helen, her colour rising as she spoke, "had you thought proper to have done so, you might have known who I was."

"I think," said the unfeeling woman, "as Julia's quarter is up, I shall keep her at home too, for the present."

"As you think proper," said the agitated girl.

"Well, well, you are mighty high, I think, for a person obliged to work for her bread. You are come down pretty low, and may----"

"Hold!" said Helen, "let me intreat you, Mrs. Falkner, to desist these cruel taunts. God has been pleased to place me in my present position; and it is, with thankfulness, nay, with pride, I exert the talents he has given me for the support of myself and the dear children, he has committed to my care. Poverty, madam, may _try_ us, and that severely; but while we act rightly, it can never _degrade_ us, but in the eyes of those, unfeeling as yourself."

"Mighty fine and heroic, to be sure! Is it not a pity Mr. Mortimer isn't hidden somewhere to hear you, as he was when you sung, and pretended not to know he was listening. He could see through it, though, as well as we did; and let, me tell you, artful as you are, that he is not a bird to be caught with chaff. But there's your money, so give me a receipt." This, she no sooner received than off she started.

Helen, who had, with difficulty, restrained her tears, now gave way to her feelings, and thus relieved her over-charged heart. At this moment, Mrs. Cameron came in, and having heard all that had passed, said:

"Never mind, my dear child, we must all be tried, some way or other, and even this cruel heartless woman could not vex you thus did not God permit her to do so; we have all, yes, the very best of us, proud, rebellious hearts, that need chastisement; and it is not for us to choose, how it is to be done. God knows best; meet it, therefore, my dear, humbly, as from _Him_, and not _man_; all will yet come right. You are a good girl; still Helen dear, you need, as we all do, the chastening of the Almighty, for we every one of us, come short, and 'when weighed in His balance, are found wanting,'"

A few days after this, Henry, who had been out fishing, came in, with his basket full of trout."

"Look there, Helen," said he, "what do you think of that? There's trout for you?"

"Why, Henry dear, are you already so expert at fishing?" asked his sister.

"No," replied Henry, "but a gentleman joined me, and we angled together. See, what beautiful flies he has given me! He caught three fish to my one, but he would make me take all. Oh, he's a real nice fellow. He has hired Mr. Bently's hunting lodge for the season, and says I may go with him, whenever I please, if you will let me.

"Whenever it does not interfere with your studies, Henry, but you must mind and not be troublesome to him."

"I'll take care of that; but I forgot to tell you, I met Mrs. Sherman, as I was coming home, and she wants you to go to tea there, and Susan is to come down and stay with Fanny."

Mrs. Sherman had seen Mrs. Cameron, and learnt from her the cruel manner in which Mrs. Falkner had behaved, and kindly desired to have a chat with Helen, in order to soothe and strengthen her mind, and; if it were possible, render her less vulnerable to these shafts of malice. After they had, for some time, discussed the matter:

"Now," said Mrs. Sherman, "let us forget all unpleasantries, and give me one of your nice songs; I wonder where the Doctor is? he promised to be in to tea; but, I suppose, he has taken it where he is detained."

Helen sat down, and played and sang. At length, the Doctor's voice was heard in the passage; but Mrs. Sherman insisted on her going on, and held up her finger, as her husband entered, in token of silence. The Doctor sent Mrs. Sherman to the parlour door, where stood Mr. Mortimer; when Helen had finished, she turned and saw him. He bowed and went across to her, and expressed his pleasure in meeting her again, in such a frank off-hand manner, that our heroine, if such she, may be called, soon lost all feeling of embarrassment, and went on playing and singing and the evening passed imperceptibly away. When the Doctor escorted Helen home, Mr. Mortimer accompanied them to the gate, leading to the cottage and took his leave.

Their meeting at Dr. Sherman's was entirely the result of accident. Mr. Mortimer had been on friendly terms at the house ever since he had been in the neighbourhood, but as both the Doctor and his wife concluded he was engaged to Miss Falkner, they never thought to ask him, when Helen was expected, and so tenacious was he, not to win her affections, till assured he could make her his, that he carefully assumed an indifference he was far from feeling. He pitied her position; which he saw was a trying one; and he greatly admired the way she acquitted herself in it. He gained a great insight into her character, in his conversations with Henry, who, entirely off his guard, was very communicative. The following letter, however, from Mr. Mortimer to an old friend, will best elicit his views and opinions:

"MY DEAR EMMERSON,

"I promised to let you know where I brought up, and here I am, domiciled in a pretty little country village, where Bently has property, and I have hired his snug hunting lodge, and, in the mind I am in, I shall remain the next six months, that is, if when the term for renting this said lodge expires, I can find a place to which I can bring my sister Emily, Here there is hardly room enough for myself and Philips, who is still my factotum, valet, groom, and I know not what besides; however, he is content, and so am I. Heartily sick of town, and its conventualities, and tired of being courted and feted, not for _myself_, but my _fortune_, I care not, if I never see it again. I am weary, too, of 'single blessedness,' and yet afraid to venture on matrimony; why is it so few are happy, who do? There is some grand evil somewhere; but where? 'Aye there's the rub.' I look narrowly into every family I visit, especially, the newly married ones, and I see the _effect_, but not the _cause_. Now, _one_ cannot be without the _other_, we well know. I fear I expect too much from the other sex, and begin to think there is more truth than poetry in your observation, that I 'must have a woman made on purpose for me,' for I certainly do want to find one very different from most that I have yet seen.

"Travelling between London and Bath, I met my father's old friend and college chum, Falkner, who finding I had no settled plans, persuaded me to take Bently's hunting lodge, which is in the vicinity of his villa. Falkner is a worthy good creature, whom I should give credit for a great deal of common sense, were he not so completely under the dominion of his wife, a perfect Xantippe; by the bye, I think, however wise he might be in some respects, that Master Socrates was a bit of a goose, particularly if, as history maintains, he did, he knew what a virago he was taking. But, however deficient in her duty as a wife, Mrs. Falkner goes to the other extreme, and overacts her part as a mother; but I am very ungrateful in thus animadverting on her behaviour, for you must know, she has singled out your humble servant as a most especial favourite; and though _she does not wish her girls married_, takes right good care to let me know that she thinks the woman who gets me, will be lucky; and that, much as she would grieve to part from one of her daughters, yet, were an eligible chance to offer, she would throw no obstacles in the way. I do verily believe she has discarded a little girl who taught her daughters music, solely for fear I should fall in love with her; and certainly, she is as far superior to the Misses Falkner as she well can be, both in attainments and personal attractions. I am so afraid of coming to a hasty conclusion, but own myself greatly prepossessed in her favour. She has been well and carefully brought up; I have watched her in church, and have marked an unaffected devotion, which I have seen carried to the sick and suffering poor around her. She has lost both parents, and now by her talents, supports an orphan brother and sister. The former, an intelligent interesting boy of thirteen, is a frequent companion of mine, and if I can, without wounding the delicacy of the sister, I trust to be of some future service to him. I have, indirectly, and, perhaps, you will say, unfairly questioned the boy, and all tells in her favour; now, here it must be genuine. Miss Willoughby plays and sings like a Syren; but then, so does many a pretty trifler. Beauty and accomplishments are very well to pass an evening away; but in a companion for life, _far more_ is required; much more than these must _I_ find in a woman, ere I venture to ask her to be mine. I am heartily tired of my present life; it is a lonely stupid way of living; living! I don't live, I merely vegetate! I have no taste for dissipation; neither have I any great predilection for field sports.

"Miss Willoughby is, I think, far superior to the generality of her sex, but she shall never have an idea of my partiality, till I am thoroughly persuaded she can make me happy; for although she may not come up to my standard of female perfection, she is far too amiable and too forlorn to be trifled with; and, therefore, I will not try to win her affections, till I know I can reciprocate them. With regard to the Falkners, I will be guarded. I respect the old man sincerely, and his family; farther, deponent sayeth not. He is the beau ideal of a country squire, and I think you will like him! They are all remarkably civil, and I must, for many reasons, keep up an intercourse, or give room elsewhere of having my plans suspected, The whole village, I believe have given me to one of the Falkners. I do not wish even the worthy Dr. Sherman and his excellent wife to suspect that I feel more than a common interest in their protegee. I wish you would come down for a month, I think you would like this part of the country, and I am sure you and Mr. Falkner would get on together. Neither have I the slightest doubt, but you would be pleased with the Shermans; they are gems, perfect gems, in their way. And as to Miss Willoughby,--but come and judge for yourself. You are engaged, or I might not, perhaps, be so pressing.

"Just as I was concluding this, a letter was brought by the mail, from a distant relative, who is just returned from India. It was hastily written, and sent off while the ship was laying in the Downs, requesting me, if possible, to meet him at Deal. So I am off for a short time, and will write to you directly I return. Till when, farewell.

"Ever faithfully yours,

"GEORGE."

Every meeting increased Helen's respect for Mr. Mortimer; she often met him at Dr. Sherman's, but it seemed always the result of chance, nor had she the slightest idea that he felt for her other, than the esteem of a friend. The village gave him to one of the Misses Falkner, and Helen took it for granted it was so. She rather regretted it, as she thought him too good, and feared they could, neither of them, appreciate his worth. She occasionally met the Falkners at Dr. Sherman's, when the eldest young lady always took care to monopolize him, which, for reasons of his own, he readily fell into. When he took leave to go to Deal, Helen could not help fancying there was a tenderness and peculiarity in his tone, as he addressed her, and yet she thought she must be mistaken, and that it was only his natural friendly warmth of manner, for she had none of that silly vanity, that leads many girls to fancy, because a man is kind and attentive, he must be in love.

She missed him greatly, for latterly he had accompanied her in her songs, and supplied her with music and books; still, all was done under the mask of friendship, and duplicates of these little presents were generally procured for Falkner Villa. Also, Henry, too, was sadly at a loss for his companion; all his out door amusements seemed to have lost their interest, and he began to look anxiously for the time proposed for his return. A room was prepared both for Mr. Mortimer, and his cousin, at Mr. Falkner's. On his return, however, he preferred going to his own quarters, leaving Sir Horace Mortimer, his relative, to the hospitalities of Falkner Villa.

Sir Horace Mortimer's stay with them, opened a fresh field for Mrs. Falkner's speculations, and not being either so fastidious or clear-sighted as his cousin George, Sir Horace, at one time, bid fair to set the former an example.

They were all assembled at Dr. Sherman's a few nights after Mr. Mortimer's return, when Sir Horace was introduced, to Helen. He almost started, but said nothing; however his eyes were so completely riveted on her, that he became quite absent--in short, his fixed gaze became painful. Dr. Sherman was, during the evening, called to the door, when he received a parcel from London, carriage paid, which the man said he had promised to place in the Doctor's own hand. The worthy man wondering from whom it could possibly come, retired to his own room and opened it. It contained Mrs. Willoughby's portrait and the pocket book; the latter he locked up carefully; the former he was carrying to Helen: who being engaged with Mrs. Sherman in the adjoining room, he showed it to Sir Horace Mortimer, with whom he had just been conversing about Helen, and her orphan charge.

"Can it be possible," said he "or do my eyes deceive me?"

The Doctor looked inquiringly, but Sir Horace said no more. At last he went up to the Doctor, and asked if Helen was expecting the arrival of the miniature? Dr. Sherman replied, she knew it was safe, but was quite uncertain when it might arrive.

"Then my dear sir, would you trust me with it till to-morrow morning? when I will restore it at an early hour," I would not ask, but for very particular reasons, connected it may be, of much moment to that dear girl: if as I strongly suspect, I have seen that miniature before, there is a secret and very minute spring, which I could not well ascertain without my glasses. Believe me, my dear Doctor, I have very cogent reasons for my request, and I feel no common interest in Miss Willoughby: but we are attracting the notice of those people I am staying with, who are not at all friendly disposed towards her; in fact, they have done all in their power to prejudice me against her.

The Doctor marvelled much at the request; but readily acceeded to it--and then both he and Sir Horace Mortimer, joined in the general conversation.

When the little party broke up, Sir Horace Mortimer undertook to be Helen's escort, and offered her his arm. Miss Falkner having come with him, quietly took the other. When they reached Helen's abode, which was in the way to Falkner Villa, at parting, Sir Horace requested permission to call and see her at an hour he named next day, and she promised to be ready.

"Will you send your young brother for me? I have heard much of him; and must make his acquaintance."