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He continued to tell himself that he was satisfied if his wife was
happy; and it was not till the child's tenth year that he felt a
doubt of her happiness.
Jane had been a preternaturally good child. During the eight years
of her adoption she had caused her foster-parents no anxiety beyond
those connected with the usual succession of youthful diseases. But
her unknown progenitors had given her a robust constitution, and she
passed unperturbed through measles, chicken-pox and whooping-cough.
If there was any suffering it was endured vicariously by Mrs.
Lethbury, whose temperature rose and fell with the patient's, and
who could not hear Jane sneeze without visions of a marble angel
weeping over a broken column. But though Jane's prompt recoveries
continued to belie such premonitions, though her existence continued
to move forward on an even keel of good health and good conduct,
Mrs. Lethbury's satisfaction showed no corresponding advance.
Lethbury, at first, was disposed to add her disappointment to the
long list of feminine inconsistencies with which the sententious
observer of life builds up his favorite induction; but circumstances
presently led him to take a kindlier view of the case.
Hitherto his wife had regarded him as a negligible factor in Jane's
evolution. Beyond providing for his adopted daughter, and effacing
himself before her, he was not expected to contribute to her
well-being. But as time passed he appeared to his wife in a new
light. It was he who was to educate Jane. In matters of the
intellect, Mrs. Lethbury was the first to declare her
deficiencies--to proclaim them, even, with a certain virtuous
superiority. She said she did not pretend to be clever, and there
was no denying the truth of the assertion. Now, however, she seemed
less ready, not to own her limitations, but to glory in them.
Confronted with the problem of Jane's instruction, she stood in awe
of the child.
"I have always been stupid, you know," she said to Lethbury with a
new humility, "and I'm afraid I sha'n't know what is best for Jane.
I'm sure she has a wonderfully good mind, and I should reproach
myself if I didn't give her every opportunity." She looked at him
helplessly. "You must tell me what ought to be done."
Lethbury was not unwilling to oblige her. Somewhere in his mental
lumber-room there rusted a theory of education such as usually
lingers among the impedimenta of the childless. He brought this out,
refurbished it, and applied it to Jane. At first he thought his wife
had not overrated the quality of the child's mind. Jane seemed
extraordinarily intelligent. Her precocious definiteness of mind was
encouraging to her inexperienced preceptor. She had no difficulty in
fixing her attention, and he felt that every fact he imparted was
being etched in metal. He helped his wife to engage the best
teachers, and for a while continued to take an ex-official interest
in his adopted daughter's studies. But gradually his interest waned.
Jane's ideas did not increase with her acquisitions. Her young mind
remained a mere receptacle for facts: a kind of cold-storage from
which anything that had been put there could be taken out at a
moment's notice, intact but congealed. She developed, moreover, an
inordinate pride in the capacity of her mental storehouse, and a
tendency to pelt her public with its contents. She was overheard to
jeer at her nurse for not knowing when the Saxon Heptarchy had
fallen, and she alternately dazzled and depressed Mrs. Lethbury by
the wealth of her chronological allusions. She showed no interest in
the significance of the facts she amassed: she simply collected
dates as another child might have collected stamps or marbles. To
her foster-mother she seemed a prodigy of wisdom; but Lethbury saw,
with a secret movement of sympathy, how the aptitudes in which Mrs.
Lethbury gloried were slowly estranging her from their possessor.
"She is getting too clever for me," his wife said to him, after one
of Jane's historical flights, "but I am so glad that she will be a
companion to you."
Lethbury groaned in spirit. He did not look forward to Jane's
companionship. She was still a good little girl: but there was
something automatic and formal in her goodness, as though it were a
kind of moral calisthenics that she went through for the sake of
showing her agility. An early consciousness of virtue had moreover
constituted her the natural guardian and adviser of her elders.
Before she was fifteen she had set about reforming the household.
She took Mrs. Lethbury in hand first; then she extended her efforts
to the servants, with consequences more disastrous to the domestic
harmony; and lastly she applied herself to Lethbury. She proved to
him by statistics that he smoked too much, and that it was injurious
to the optic nerve to read in bed. She took him to task for not
going to church more regularly, and pointed out to him the evils of
desultory reading. She suggested that a regular course of study
encourages mental concentration, and hinted that inconsecutiveness
of thought is a sign of approaching age.
To her adopted mother her suggestions were equally pertinent. She
instructed Mrs. Lethbury in an improved way of making beef stock,
and called her attention to the unhygienic qualities of carpets. She
poured out distracting facts about bacilli and vegetable mould, and
demonstrated that curtains and picture-frames are a hot-bed of
animal organisms. She learned by heart the nutritive ingredients of
the principal articles of diet, and revolutionized the cuisine by an
attempt to establish a scientific average between starch and
phosphates. Four cooks left during this experiment, and Lethbury
fell into the habit of dining at his club.
Once or twice, at the outset, he had tried to check Jane's ardor;
but his efforts resulted only in hurting his wife's feelings. Jane
remained impervious, and Mrs. Lethbury resented any attempt to
protect her from her daughter. Lethbury saw that she was consoled
for the sense of her own inferiority by the thought of what Jane's
intellectual companionship must be to him; and he tried to keep up
the illusion by enduring with what grace he might the blighting
edification of Jane's discourse.
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