Part 3 (1/2)
”Oh, I think Nan is all right in every way,” replied Hester. ”No one could be kinder to her than Mrs. Willis, and she is very happy at school. Nurse, I've just come here for a moment to ask you to be very careful what you say to Nan about my father. You see, the object of my life is to make him happy, and to be a good daughter to him, and, in short, to try to take my mother's place.”
”Eh, dear, we all know that,” replied nurse, ”and a sweeter young mistress there couldn't be. Why, there isn't a servant in the house who wouldn't do anything in the world for you, Miss Hetty; and everything in apple-pie order, and the meals served regular and beautiful, and inside and out perfect order, and all because there's an old head on young shoulders. There, perhaps it isn't a compliment I'm paying you, my dearie, but in one sense it is.”
”Do you really think I manage well?” asked the girl, an anxious tone in her voice.
”Manage well? You manage beautiful. Your own mother, if she were alive, couldn't do better.”
”I can never forget my mother,” replied Hester, tears rising to her eyes. ”Well, nurse, you will be very careful what you say to Nan. The object of my life is to make my father happy. If I can do that, I am content.”
”You do, you do,” replied the old woman. ”No mortal can do more than their best, and you do that. Now, good-night, Miss Hester.”
Hester took up her candle and went away. Nurse stood and watched the pretty young figure as it disappeared down the corridor.
”There,” she said to herself as she began to prepare for her own bed.
”There's another victim. Don't I know what my mistress was, and don't I know that Sir John's coldness and sharpness and no-heartedness just hurried her into her grave? Never a bit of real hearty love could he give to anyone. Just as just could be--righteous as righteous could be, but hard as a flint. My mistress drooped and faded and died, and Miss Hester will follow in her footsteps if I don't look after her.
Sometimes I wish the master _would_ marry again, and that he'd get a tartar of a wife. He might think of another wife if things were a bit uncomfortable here, but that they never will be while Miss Hetty is at the helm. She's a born manager, bless her, with her gentle ways and her firm words and her pretty little dignity. Miss Nan's business in life, it seems to me, is to set places all in a muddle, and Miss Hetty's to smooth them out again. Of course it's due to Miss Hetty to be mistress of the Grange, but sometimes I fear the life is too much for her, and she'll fret and fade like her mother before her; if I really thought that, I'd set my wits to work, old as I am, to get a real _selfish wife_ for the master, who'd teach him a thing or two, for that's what he wants.”
At this stage in her meditations, nurse laid her head on her pillow and was soon fast asleep.
The next morning promised a perfect day, and Hester, Annie, and Nan met in high spirits in the breakfast-room. The post had not yet arrived, but a letter was lying on Hester's plate.
”That's in dad's writing,” said Nan, going up and examining it critically; ”now what's up?”
Hester took the letter and opened it. It contained a few brief words.
She read them with a sinking of heart which she could not account for--
”MY DEAR HETTY,--Your young companions will make the house quite gay for you. I shall, therefore, take the opportunity of going from home for a few days. I will send you a line to let you know when you may expect me back.--Your affectionate father, JOHN THORNTON.
”P.S.--I shall have left before you are down in the morning. Give my love to Nan, and wish Miss Forest good-bye for me. By the way, she is interested in Australia, so will you show her where Henry Kingsley's novels are to be found in the library?”
Nan, who had been peeping over Hester's shoulder while she was reading, now suddenly clapped her hands, shouted ”hurrah” at the top of her voice, and, running up to Annie, began to waltz round and round the breakfast-table with her.
”Oh, oh!” she exclaimed, ”then little girls _may_ be heard as well as seen. Annie, there are two proverbs which are the bane of my life. I wonder dad has not had them both illuminated and framed and hung up in my nursery. One of them is: 'Little girls should be seen and not heard.'
What a detestable old prig the person must have been who invented that proverb! I ask you, Annie, what would life be without little girls and their chatter? The other proverb is nearly as objectionable. This is it: 'Make a page of your own age.' According to dad, that only applies to little girls, and it means that they must always be f.a.gging round, hunting for slippers and spectacles and newspapers and books for the older people who are past the age for paging, and that no one is ever to wait on _them_, however tired or however disinclined to stir they may happen to be. Now there'll be no one to make me page, and no one to keep me silent. Oh, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! what a dear old dad to absent himself in this obliging manner.”
”For my part, I am very sorry,” said Annie, for Hester had pa.s.sed her on the letter to read.
Hester said nothing, and breakfast began, Nan wasting as usual a prodigal amount of energy and spirits even over the operation of eating, Hester looking a little pale and a little thoughtful, Annie in a state of suppressed high spirits, which a slight awe which she still felt at times for Hester Thornton kept rather in check.
CHAPTER IV.
THE COLTS--ROBIN AND JOE.
The Towers was situated exactly two miles away from the Grange. It was a large, old house, with a castellated roof and a high tower at one end.
It was a very old family place, and the Lorrimers had lived there from father to son for several hundreds of years. Like many ancient families, their wealth had diminished rather than increased with the times. The luxurious living, which has been in vogue more or less during the whole of the present century, had obliged them to part with some of their fair acres. The present owner had married for love, not for money. More lands had to be sold to meet the wants of a large and vigorous family, and, at the time when this story opens, the Lorrimers were, for their position, decidedly poor, not rich.