Part 1 (1/2)

The Billow and the Rock.

by Harriet Martineau.

CHAPTER ONE.

LORD AND LADY Ca.r.s.e.

Scotland was a strange and uncomfortable country to live in a hundred years ago. Strange beyond measure its state of society appears to us when we consider, not only that it was called a Christian country, but that the people had shown that they really did care very much for their religion, and were bent upon wors.h.i.+pping G.o.d according to their conscience and true belief. Whilst earnest in their religion, their state of society was yet very wicked: a thing which usually happens when a whole people are pa.s.sing from one way of living and being governed to another. Scotland had not long been united with England. While the wisest of the nation saw that the only hope for the country was in being governed by the same king and parliament as the English, many of the most powerful men wished not to be governed at all, but to be altogether despotic over their dependents and neighbours, and to have their _own_ way in everything. These lords and gentlemen did such violent things as are never heard of now in civilised countries; and when their inferiors had any strong desire or pa.s.sion, they followed the example of the great men, so that travelling was dangerous; citizens did not feel themselves safe in their own houses if they had reason to believe they had enemies; few had any trust in the protection of the law; and stories of fighting and murder were familiar to children living in the heart of cities.

Children, however, had less liberty then than in our time. The more self-will there was in grown people, the more strictly were the children kept in order, not only because the uppermost idea of everyone in authority was that he would be obeyed, but because it would not do to let little people see the mischief that was going on abroad. So, while boys had their hair powdered, and wore long coats and waistcoats, and little knee-breeches, and girls were laced tight in stays all stiff with whalebone, they were trained to manners more formal than are ever seen now.

One autumn afternoon a party was expected at the house of Lord Ca.r.s.e, in Edinburgh; a handsome house in a very odd situation, according to our modern notions. It was at the bottom of a narrow lane of houses--that sort of lane called a Wynd in Scotch cities. It had a court-yard in front. It was necessary to have a court-yard to a good house in a street too narrow for carriages. Visitors must come in sedan chairs and there must be some place, aside from the street, where the chairs and chairmen could wait for the guests. This old fas.h.i.+oned house had sitting-rooms on the ground floor, and on the sills of the windows were flower-pots, in which, on this occasion, some asters and other autumn flowers were growing.

Within the largest sitting-room was collected a formal group, awaiting the arrival of visitors. Lord Ca.r.s.e's sister, Lady Rachel Ballino, was there, surrounded by her nephews and nieces. As they came in, one after another, dressed for company, and made their bow or curtsey at the door, their aunt gave them permission to sit down till the arrival of the first guest, after which time it would be a matter of course that they should stand. Miss Janet and her brothers sat down on their low stools, at some distance from each other; but little Miss Flora had no notion of submitting to their restraints at her early age, and she scrambled up the window-seat to look abroad as far as she could, which was through the high iron gates to the tall houses on the other side the Wynd.

Lady Rachel saw the boys and Janet looking at each other with smiles, and this turned her attention to the child in the window, who was nodding her little curly head very energetically to somebody outside.

”Come down, Flora,” said her aunt.

But Flora was too busy, nodding, to hear that she was spoken to.

”Flora, come down. Why are you nodding in that way?”

”Lady nods,” said Flora.

Lady Rachel rose deliberately from her seat, and approached the window, turning pale as she went. After a single glance in the court-yard, she sank on a chair, and desired her nephew Orme to ring the bell twice.

Orme who saw that something was the matter, rang so vigorously as to bring the butler in immediately.

”John, you see?” said the pale lips of Lady Rachel, while she pointed, with a trembling finger, to the court-yard.

”Yes, my lady; the doors are fastened.”

”And Lord Ca.r.s.e not home yet?”

”No, my lady. I think perhaps he is somewhere near, and cannot get home.”

John looked irresolutely towards the child in the window. Once more Flora was desired to come down, and once more she only replied, ”Lady nods at me.”

Janet was going towards the window to enforce her aunt's orders, but she was desired to keep her seat, and John quickly took up Miss Flora in his arms and set her down at her aunt's knee. The child cried and struggled, said she would see the lady, and must infallibly have been dismissed to the nursery, but her eye was caught, and her mind presently engaged by Lady Rachel's painted fan, on which there was a burning mountain, and a blue sea, and a shepherdess and her lamb--all very gay.

Flora was allowed to have the fan in her own hands--a very rare favour.

But presently she left off telling her aunt what she saw upon it, dropped it, and clapped her hands, saying, as she looked at the window, ”Lady nods at me.”

”It is mamma!” cried the elder ones, starting to their feet, as the lady thrust her face through the flowers, and close to the window-pane.

”Go to the nursery, children,” said Lady Rachel, making an effort to rise. ”I will send for you presently.” The elder ones appeared glad to escape, and they carried with them the struggling Flora.

Lady Rachel threw up the sash, crossed her arms, and said, in the most formal manner, ”What do you want, Lady Ca.r.s.e?”

”I want my children.”