________________________________________________
_ Ernest was thus in disgrace from the beginning of the holidays, but
an incident soon occurred which led him into delinquencies compared
with which all his previous sins were venial.
Among the servants at the Rectory was a remarkably pretty girl named
Ellen. She came from Devonshire, and was the daughter of a
fisherman who had been drowned when she was a child. Her mother set
up a small shop in the village where her husband had lived, and just
managed to make a living. Ellen remained with her till she was
fourteen, when she first went out to service. Four years later,
when she was about eighteen, but so well grown that she might have
passed for twenty, she had been strongly recommended to Christina,
who was then in want of a housemaid, and had now been at Battersby
about twelve months.
As I have said the girl was remarkably pretty; she looked the
perfection of health and good temper, indeed there was a serene
expression upon her face which captivated almost all who saw her;
she looked as if matters had always gone well with her and were
always going to do so, and as if no conceivable combination of
circumstances could put her for long together out of temper either
with herself or with anyone else. Her complexion was clear, but
high; her eyes were grey and beautifully shaped; her lips were full
and restful, with something of an Egyptian Sphinx-like character
about them. When I learned that she came from Devonshire I fancied
I saw a strain of far away Egyptian blood in her, for I had heard,
though I know not what foundation there was for the story, that the
Egyptians made settlements on the coast of Devonshire and Cornwall
long before the Romans conquered Britain. Her hair was a rich
brown, and her figure--of about the middle height--perfect, but
erring if at all on the side of robustness. Altogether she was one
of those girls about whom one is inclined to wonder how they can
remain unmarried a week or a day longer.
Her face (as indeed faces generally are, though I grant they lie
sometimes) was a fair index to her disposition. She was good nature
itself, and everyone in the house, not excluding I believe even
Theobald himself after a fashion, was fond of her. As for Christina
she took the very warmest interest in her, and used to have her into
the dining-room twice a week, and prepare her for confirmation (for
by some accident she had never been confirmed) by explaining to her
the geography of Palestine and the routes taken by St Paul on his
various journeys in Asia Minor.
When Bishop Treadwell did actually come down to Battersby and hold a
confirmation there (Christina had her wish, he slept at Battersby,
and she had a grand dinner party for him, and called him "My lord"
several times), he was so much struck with her pretty face and
modest demeanour when he laid his hands upon her that he asked
Christina about her. When she replied that Ellen was one of her own
servants, the bishop seemed, so she thought or chose to think, quite
pleased that so pretty a girl should have found so exceptionally
good a situation.
Ernest used to get up early during the holidays so that he might
play the piano before breakfast without disturbing his papa and
mamma--or rather, perhaps, without being disturbed by them. Ellen
would generally be there sweeping the drawing-room floor and dusting
while he was playing, and the boy, who was ready to make friends
with most people, soon became very fond of her. He was not as a
general rule sensitive to the charms of the fair sex, indeed he had
hardly been thrown in with any women except his Aunts Allaby, and
his Aunt Alethea, his mother, his sister Charlotte and Mrs Jay;
sometimes also he had had to take off his hat to the Miss Skinners,
and had felt as if he should sink into the earth on doing so, but
his shyness had worn off with Ellen, and the pair had become fast
friends.
Perhaps it was well that Ernest was not at home for very long
together, but as yet his affection though hearty was quite Platonic.
He was not only innocent, but deplorably--I might even say guiltily-
-innocent. His preference was based upon the fact that Ellen never
scolded him, but was always smiling and good tempered; besides she
used to like to hear him play, and this gave him additional zest in
playing. The morning access to the piano was indeed the one
distinct advantage which the holidays had in Ernest's eyes, for at
school he could not get at a piano except quasi-surreptitiously at
the shop of Mr Pearsall, the music-seller.
On returning this midsummer he was shocked to find his favourite
looking pale and ill. All her good spirits had left her, the roses
had fled from her cheek, and she seemed on the point of going into a
decline. She said she was unhappy about her mother, whose health
was failing, and was afraid she was herself not long for this world.
Christina, of course, noticed the change. "I have often remarked,"
she said, "that those very fresh-coloured, healthy-looking girls are
the first to break up. I have given her calomel and James's powders
repeatedly, and though she does not like it, I think I must show her
to Dr Martin when he next comes here."
"Very well, my dear," said Theobald, and so next time Dr Martin came
Ellen was sent for. Dr Martin soon discovered what would probably
have been apparent to Christina herself if she had been able to
conceive of such an ailment in connection with a servant who lived
under the same roof as Theobald and herself--the purity of whose
married life should have preserved all unmarried people who came
near them from any taint of mischief.
When it was discovered that in three or four months more Ellen would
become a mother, Christina's natural good nature would have prompted
her to deal as leniently with the case as she could, if she had not
been panic-stricken lest any mercy on her and Theobald's part should
be construed into toleration, however partial, of so great a sin;
hereon she dashed off into the conviction that the only thing to do
was to pay Ellen her wages, and pack her off on the instant bag and
baggage out of the house which purity had more especially and
particularly singled out for its abiding city. When she thought of
the fearful contamination which Ellen's continued presence even for
a week would occasion, she could not hesitate.
Then came the question--horrid thought!--as to who was the partner
of Ellen's guilt? Was it, could it be, her own son, her darling
Ernest? Ernest was getting a big boy now. She could excuse any
young woman for taking a fancy to him; as for himself, why she was
sure he was behind no young man of his age in appreciation of the
charms of a nice-looking young woman. So long as he was innocent
she did not mind this, but oh, if he were guilty!
She could not bear to think of it, and yet it would be mere
cowardice not to look such a matter in the face--her hope was in the
Lord, and she was ready to bear cheerfully and make the best of any
suffering He might think fit to lay upon her. That the baby must be
either a boy or girl--this much, at any rate, was clear. No less
clear was it that the child, if a boy, would resemble Theobald, and
if a girl, herself. Resemblance, whether of body or mind, generally
leaped over a generation. The guilt of the parents must not be
shared by the innocent offspring of shame--oh! no--and such a child
as this would be . . . She was off in one of her reveries at once.
The child was in the act of being consecrated Archbishop of
Canterbury when Theobald came in from a visit in the parish, and was
told of the shocking discovery.
Christina said nothing about Ernest, and I believe was more than
half angry when the blame was laid upon other shoulders. She was
easily consoled, however, and fell back on the double reflection,
firstly, that her son was pure, and secondly, that she was quite
sure he would not have been so had it not been for his religious
convictions which had held him back--as, of course, it was only to
be expected they would.
Theobald agreed that no time must be lost in paying Ellen her wages
and packing her off. So this was done, and less than two hours
after Dr Martin had entered the house Ellen was sitting beside John
the coachman, with her face muffled up so that it could not be seen,
weeping bitterly as she was being driven to the station. _
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