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Six to Sixteen: A Story for Girls, a novel by Juliana Horatia Ewing |
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Chapter 7. My Great-Grandmother... |
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_ CHAPTER VII. MY GREAT-GRANDMOTHER--THE DUCHESS'S CARRIAGE--MRS. O'CONNOR IS CURIOUS I was much discomfited. My position was not a dignified one at the best, and in childhood such small shames seem too terrible ever to be outlived. My great-grandmother laughed heartily, and Mrs. Buller, whose sense of humour was small, looked annoyed. "What in the world are you doing here, Margery?" she said. I had little or no moral courage, and I had not been trained in high principles. If I could have thought of a plausible lie, I fear I should have told it in my dilemma. As it was, I could not; I only put my hand to my burning cheek, and said: "Let me see!" I must certainly have presented a very comical appearance, but the little old lady's smiles died away, and her eyes filled with tears. "It is strange, is it not," she said to Aunt Theresa, "that, after all, I should laugh at this meeting?" Then, sitting down on a box by the door, she held out her hands to me, saying: "Come, little Margery, there is no sin in practising one's good manners before the mirror. Come and kiss me, dear child; I am your father's father's mother. Is not that to be an old woman? I am your great-grandmother." My great-grandmother's voice was very soft, her cheek was soft, her cloak was soft. I buried my face in the fur, and cried quietly to myself with shame and excitement; she stroking my head, and saying: "_Pauvre petite!_--thou an orphan, and I doubly childless! It is thus we meet at last to join our hands across the graves of two generations of those we love!" "It was a dreadful thing!" said Mrs. Buller, rummaging in her pocket for a clean handkerchief. "I'm sure I never should forget it, if I lived a thousand years. I never seemed able to realize that they were gone; it was all so sudden." The old lady made no answer, and we all wept in silence. Aunt Theresa was the first to recover herself, and she insisted on our coming down-stairs. A young regimental surgeon and his wife dropped in to lunch, for which my great-grandmother stayed. We were sitting in the drawing-room afterwards, when "Mrs. Vandaleur's carriage" was announced. As my great-grandmother took leave of me, she took off a watch and chain and hung them on my neck. It was a small French watch with an enamelled back of dark blue, on which was the word "Souvenir" in small pearls. "I gave it to your grandfather long years ago, my child, and he gave it back to me--before he sailed. I would only part with it to his son's child. Farewell, _petite_! Be good, dear child--try to be good. Adieu, Mrs. Buller, and a thousand thanks! Major Buller, I am at your service." Major Buller took the hand she held out to him and led the old lady to the front door, whither we all followed them. Mrs. Vandaleur's carriage was before the steps. It was a very quaint little box on two wheels, in by no means good repair. It was drawn by a pony, white, old, and shaggy. At the pony's head stood a small boy in decent, but not smart, plain clothes. "Put the mat over the wheel to save my dress, Adolphe," said the old lady; and as the little boy obeyed her order she stepped nimbly into the carriage, assisted by the Major. "The silk is old," she observed complacently; "but it is my best, of course, or it would not have been worn to-day," and she gave a graceful little bow towards Aunt Theresa; "and I hope that, with care, it will serve as such for the rest of my life, which cannot be very long." "If it wears as well as you do, Madam," said Major Buller, tucking her in, "it may; not otherwise." The Surgeon was leaning over the other side of the little cart, and seemed also to be making polite speeches. It recalled the way that men used to hang upon my mother's carriage. The old lady smiled, and made gracious little replies, and meanwhile deliberately took off her kid gloves, folded, and put them into her pocket. She then drew on a pair of old worsted ones. "Economy, economy," she said, smiling, and giving a hand on each side of her to the two gentlemen. "May I trouble you for the reins? Many thanks. Farewell, gentlemen! I cannot pretend to fear that my horse will catch cold--his coat is too thick; but you may. Adieu, Mrs. Buller, once more. Farewell, little one, I wish you good-morning, Madam. Adolphe, seat yourself; make your bow, Adolphe. Adieu, dear friends!" She gave a flick with the whip, which the pony resented by shaking his head; after which he seemed, so to speak, to snatch up the little cart, my great-grandmother, and Adolphe, and to run off with them at a good round pace. "What an extraordinary turn-out!" said the Surgeon's wife. (She was an Irish attorney's daughter, with the commonest of faces, and the most unprecedented of bonnets. She and her husband had lately "set up" a waggonette, the expense of which just made it difficult for them to live upon their means, and the varnish of which added a care to life.) "Fancy driving down High Street in that!" she continued; "and just when everybody is going out, too!" "Uncommon sensible little affair, I think," said the Surgeon. "Suits the old lady capitally." "Mrs. Vandaleur," said Major Buller, "can afford to be independent of appearances to an extent that would not perhaps be safe for most of us." "You're right there, Buller," said the Surgeon. "Wonderfully queenly she is! That fur cloak looks like an ermine robe on her." "I don't think you'd like to see me in it!" tittered his wife. "I don't say I should," returned the Surgeon, rather smartly. "My dear," said Mrs. Buller, "you must make up your mind to be jealous of the Duchess. All gentlemen are mad about her." "The Duchess!" said Mrs. O'Connor, in a tone of respect. "I thought you said----" "Oh, she is not really a duchess, my dear; it's only a nickname. I'll tell you all about it some day. It's a long story." Discovering that Mrs. Vandaleur was a family connection, and not a chance visitor from the neighbourhood, Mrs. O'Connor apologized for her remarks, and tried to extract the Duchess's history from Aunt Theresa then and there. But Mrs. Buller would only promise to tell it "another time." "I'm dying with curiosity," said Mrs. O'Connor, as she took leave, "I shall run in to-morrow afternoon on purpose to hear all about it. Can you do with me, dear Mrs. Buller?" "Pray come," said Aunt Theresa warmly, with an amiable disregard of two engagements and some arrears of domestic business. I was in the drawing-room next day when Mrs. O'Connor arrived. "May I come in, dear Mrs. Buller?" she said, "I won't stay two minutes; but I _must_ hear about the Duchess. Now, _are_ you busy?" "Not at all," said Aunt Theresa, who was in the midst of making up her tradesmen's books. "Pray sit down, and take off your bonnet." "It's hardly worth while, for I _can't_ stay," said Mrs. O'Connor, taking her bonnet off, and setting it down so as not to crush the flowers. As Mrs. O'Connor stayed two hours and a half, and as Aunt Theresa granted my request to be allowed to hear her narrative, I learnt a good deal of the history of my great-grandmother. _ |
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