Part 36 (1/2)
Mrs Jonathan Prothero came noiselessly into the room, bringing in a shaded night light, and anxious to bear some intelligence to the watchers downstairs. Her step, light as it was, awoke Gladys. She started up, and looking on her mistress, clasped her hands, and fervently thanked G.o.d.
'She is sleeping as calmly as a child,' she said. 'I am sure the worst is past.'
Mrs Jonathan went out to tell the good news, and to beg the brothers to go to bed, which they did, after some demur. Gladys and Rowland watched on for about an hour longer, when Mrs Prothero opened her eyes and fixed them upon Rowland. She smiled as if she knew him, and when he bent over her and kissed her, murmured some faint words which he could not understand.
Gladys gave her some jelly which she swallowed, and soon afterwards she slept again.
'The crisis is over, she will recover, I hope, Mr Rowland,' said Gladys.
'You can go to bed, sir--you had better. The mistress will want you to-morrow, and you can be of no use to-night.'
Rowland felt the force of this, and again kissing his mother's forehead, and shaking Gladys by the hand, he went downstairs to Owen, who he found asleep on the sofa in the parlour. Supper was awaiting him, and Owen and he were soon seated over the fire, discussing their mother's illness and Netta's conduct.
They had not met for three or four years, and there was much to say. Few brothers loved one another more tenderly than they did, despite the dissimilarity of habits, tastes, and occupations, and when they were together, all the secrets of their hearts were usually unfolded.
Although Owen's wild roving nature had caused Rowland much anxiety, still he had perfect confidence in his honest, open character. Owing to early education Owen was not deficient in general acquirements. He knew a little Latin and Greek, and could read, write, and cypher well. Added to this, his knowledge of foreign lands was great, and of men and manners greater. Under a careless exterior, he had a considerable portion of talent and information, and Rowland was delighted to find in his sea-faring, roystering brother, a much more cultivated and sensible mind than he had expected. Rowland was beginning to be conscious of wis.h.i.+ng to see all his family superior to what they were. Placed by his own profession amongst gentle-folks, and feeling in himself all the refinement of the cla.s.s so called, he was often annoyed and pained to be differently situated from those who were nearest and dearest to him. He knew that in London he was received as an equal by men and women of rank and position, as well as by those of talent and learning; whereas, in the country, even Miss Gwynne, at whose house he visited, considered it a condescension to speak to him, whilst she looked upon those who belonged to him as people of another sphere. In spite of all his prayers for humility, and his striving after pure Christianity, Rowland was, and knew that he was a proud man, and all the prouder because his original station was beneath his present one. He felt that he must be humbled before he could be the pastor and disciple of One whose whole life was a lesson of humility. But the world knew nothing of this. He walked before it, and through it as a bright example of a young clergyman devoted to his work. Neither was he less devoted to his mother, dutiful to his father, or loving to his brother, because they were good, honest, plain farmers, and he a clergyman; or which was, perhaps, more to the point, because Miss Gwynne could not, or would not separate him from his family.
When he and his brother and sister were children, they were constantly at the vicarage with their uncle and aunt, and Miss Gwynne was their playmate there, and had not known their inferiority. Now that he really was a man of education and a gentleman, in spite of all her kindness to his mother, she knew it full well. Why did he never consider what any one else in his own neighbourhood thought of him or his family? It was only Miss Gwynne--always Miss Gwynne.
Early the following morning that young lady came to inquire for Mrs Prothero, accompanied by Miss Hall. It was Rowland who gave them the joyful intelligence that his mother had had a good night, and was much more quiet. The real pleasure that shone from Miss Gwynne's intelligent and intelligible eyes, showed Rowland how fond she was of his mother.
'And now,' she said, 'Miss Hall and I are come, resolutely bent on remaining with your mother, whilst your aunt and Gladys go to bed. We are quite determined, and you know I always have my way.'
Rowland bowed, smiled, and called his aunt, who, after some hesitation consented, and went upstairs to request Gladys to do the same, but Gladys was inexorable until Mr Prothero came in, and in his most decided manner insisted on her taking some rest. Mrs Prothero also murmured a 'Go, Gladys fach!' and she kissed the dear cheek and went at once.
Mr Prothero took her place. He was alone with his wife, and the rough, loud man became gentle as one of his own lambs, as he bent over her and thanked G.o.d that she was better. A big tear fell from his eyes on her face, and he made an inward vow, that if her life were spared, he would never again say a cross word to her as long as he lived.
She felt the tear, heard the kind words, and seemed to understand the vow, for she looked at him tenderly, and said in her low, weak voice, 'G.o.d bless you, David!'
From that moment he went out to his work with a lightened heart; the labourers read the good news that their mistress was better in his face, and heard it in his voice. Even Netta's disobedience was forgotten, if not forgiven, in the joy of feeling that the partner of more than half his life was likely to recover. And by degrees she did recover. That is to say, before Rowland was obliged again to leave her, she was able to go down into the parlour and sit at her work, 'quite like a lady,' as she expressed it. And even out of the evil of such an illness good had sprung. It had aroused all the sympathy and kind feeling of relatives, friends, and neighbours; but especially had it been beneficial in bringing out the womanly kindness that lay hid under the stiffness of pride in Mrs Jonathan Prothero, and in opening the hearts of the sisters-in-law towards each other. Mrs Jonathan forgot her cousin, Sir Philip Payne Perry, and helped to nurse, and learned to love her humbler connection, whilst the ever-ready tenderness of the simple farmer's wife, sprung up to respond to it like a stream leaping in the sunlight.
Gladys, too, reaped the reward of her devotion, in the increased kindness of Mr Prothero, who began to forget the Irish beggar in the gentle girl whose care, under G.o.d, had saved his wife's life; and so, as is usually the case, affliction had not come from the ground, but had fallen like a softening dew upon the irritated feelings of the afflicted, and bound heart still nearer to heart.
Perhaps in the younger and more impetuous natures it had done almost too much. Thoughtless of consequences, they had all worked to save a life, valuable to so many. Rowland, Owen, Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, Gladys, had been thrown together at a time when the formalities of the world and the distinctions of rank are forgotten, and the tear of sympathy, the word of friendly comfort, or the pressure of the hand of kindly feeling are given and taken, without a thought of giver or receiver. But they are remembered, and dwelt upon in after years as pa.s.sages in life's history never to be obliterated--never to be forgotten.
CHAPTER XX.
THE HEIRESS.
Glanyravon Park lay, as we have said, in the parish of which Mr Jonathan Prothero was vicar, but as the parish and park were large, the house was three or four miles from the church; and it was on account of this distance of Glanyravon and its dependencies from church and school, that Miss Gwynne had induced her father to build the school-house, of which mention has been already made, since there was a large school in the village for such children as were within its reach. She would have had him build a small church also, and endow it, to remove all excuse, as she said, from the chapel-goers; but this was an undertaking too mighty for him. However, the school flourished wonderfully, both on week days and Sundays, and Miss Gwynne always filled every corner of an omnibus in which the servants went to church with such of the children as could not walk so far. Miss Hall was an admirable a.s.sistant to the school-mistress during the week; and Gladys, with Mrs Prothero's permission, undertook the Sunday duty for the mistress, in order that she might have a holiday on that day. Miss Gwynne also attended, but she was too impatient and imperious to be a good teacher, much as she wished to be one.
Miss Gwynne had great ideas of doing good; grand schemes that she tried to carry out, but in which she often failed. Nevertheless, she did a great deal of good in her own peculiar way.
She had been reading of the 'harvest homes' that they were endeavouring to revive in England, and had induced her father to have one in the park. Happily, the day fixed for this general rejoicing was during Mrs Prothero's convalescence, and before Rowland's return to London, so that most of the members of the Prothero family could be present. They also yielded to Miss Gwynne's ready a.s.sistance in such preparations as she made, and were the instruments in surprising her and her father by some tasteful decorations in their honour, unknown to them. Owen and Gladys worked very hard at floral and evergreen mottoes for the tent, whilst Rowland gave his advice as he sat with his mother, and tried to amuse her during the tedium of her recovery.
A few hours before the general gathering, a messenger arrived at the Park in great haste, bearing a note to Miss Gwynne, containing the information that the vicar had sprained his ankle just as he was going to set out for Glanyravon, and was unable to move. There was another note for Rowland, which was to be carried on to the farm, requesting him to supply his uncle's place.
Miss Gwynne was greatly annoyed; wished that the vicar would not go wandering about after old stones, as she was sure he had done; knew that Rowland would never be able to manage and was very sorry she had attempted the treat at all.