Chapter 13 - The Primroses

MISS MURRAY now always went twice to church, for she so lovedadmiration that she could not bear to lose a single opportunity ofobtaining it; and she was so sure of it wherever she showedherself, that, whether Harry Meltham and Mr. Green were there ornot, there was certain to be somebody present who would not beinsensible to her charms, besides the Rector, whose officialcapacity generally obliged him to attend. Usually, also, if theweather permitted, both she and her sister would walk home;Matilda, because she hated the confinement of the carriage; she,because she disliked the privacy of it, and enjoyed the companythat generally enlivened the first mile of the journey in walkingfrom the church to Mr. Green's park-gates: near which commencedthe private road to Horton Lodge, which lay in the oppositedirection, while the highway conducted in a straightforward courseto the still more distant mansion of Sir Hugh Meltham. Thus therewas always a chance of being accompanied, so far, either by HarryMeltham, with or without Miss Meltham, or Mr. Green, with perhapsone or both of his sisters, and any gentlemen visitors they mighthave.

Whether I walked with the young ladies or rode with their parents,depended upon their own capricious will: if they chose to 'take'me, I went; if, for reasons best known to themselves, they chose togo alone, I took my seat in the carriage. I liked walking better,but a sense of reluctance to obtrude my presence on anyone who didnot desire it, always kept me passive on these and similaroccasions; and I never inquired into the causes of their varyingwhims. Indeed, this was the best policy - for to submit and obligewas the governess's part, to consult their own pleasure was that ofthe pupils. But when I did walk, the first half of journey wasgenerally a great nuisance to me. As none of the before-mentionedladies and gentlemen ever noticed me, it was disagreeable to walkbeside them, as if listening to what they said, or wishing to bethought one of them, while they talked over me, or across; and iftheir eyes, in speaking, chanced to fall on me, it seemed as ifthey looked on vacancy - as if they either did not see me, or werevery desirous to make it appear so. It was disagreeable, too, towalk behind, and thus appear to acknowledge my own inferiority;for, in truth, I considered myself pretty nearly as good as thebest of them, and wished them to know that I did so, and not toimagine that I looked upon myself as a mere domestic, who knew herown place too well to walk beside such fine ladies and gentlemen asthey were - though her young ladies might choose to have her withthem, and even condescend to converse with her when no bettercompany were at hand. Thus - I am almost ashamed to confess it -but indeed I gave myself no little trouble in my endeavours (if Idid keep up with them) to appear perfectly unconscious orregardless of their presence, as if I were wholly absorbed in myown reflections, or the contemplation of surrounding objects; or,if I lingered behind, it was some bird or insect, some tree orflower, that attracted my attention, and having duly examined that,I would pursue my walk alone, at a leisurely pace, until my pupilshad bidden adieu to their companions and turned off into the quietprivate road.

One such occasion I particularly well remember; it was a lovelyafternoon about the close of March; Mr. Green and his sisters hadsent their carriage back empty, in order to enjoy the brightsunshine and balmy air in a sociable walk home along with theirvisitors, Captain Somebody and Lieutenant Somebody-else (a coupleof military fops), and the Misses Murray, who, of course, contrivedto join them. Such a party was highly agreeable to Rosalie; butnot finding it equally suitable to my taste, I presently fell back,and began to botanise and entomologise along the green banks andbudding hedges, till the company was considerably in advance of me,and I could hear the sweet song of the happy lark; then my spiritof misanthropy began to melt away beneath the soft, pure air andgenial sunshine; but sad thoughts of early childhood, and yearningsfor departed joys, or for a brighter future lot, arose instead. Asmy eyes wandered over the steep banks covered with young grass andgreen-leaved plants, and surmounted by budding hedges, I longedintensely for some familiar flower that might recall the woodydales or green hill-sides of home: the brown moorlands, of course,were out of the question. Such a discovery would make my eyes gushout with water, no doubt; but that was one of my greatestenjoyments now. At length I descried, high up between the twistedroots of an oak, three lovely primroses, peeping so sweetly fromtheir hiding-place that the tears already started at the sight; butthey grew so high above me, that I tried in vain to gather one ortwo, to dream over and to carry with me: I could not reach themunless I climbed the bank, which I was deterred from doing byhearing a footstep at that moment behind me, and was, therefore,about to turn away, when I was startled by the words, 'Allow me togather them for you, Miss Grey,' spoken in the grave, low tones ofa well-known voice. Immediately the flowers were gathered, and inmy hand. It was Mr. Weston, of course - who else would troublehimself to do so much for ME?

'I thanked him; whether warmly or coldly, I cannot tell: butcertain I am that I did not express half the gratitude I felt. Itwas foolish, perhaps, to feel any gratitude at all; but it seemedto me, at that moment, as if this were a remarkable instance of hisgood-nature: an act of kindness, which I could not repay, butnever should forget: so utterly unaccustomed was I to receive suchcivilities, so little prepared to expect them from anyone withinfifty miles of Horton Lodge. Yet this did not prevent me fromfeeling a little uncomfortable in his presence; and I proceeded tofollow my pupils at a much quicker pace than before; though,perhaps, if Mr. Weston had taken the hint, and let me pass withoutanother word, I might have repeated it an hour after: but he didnot. A somewhat rapid walk for me was but an ordinary pace forhim.

'Your young ladies have left you alone,' said he.

'Yes, they are occupied with more agreeable company.'

'Then don't trouble yourself to overtake them.' I slackened mypace; but next moment regretted having done so: my companion didnot speak; and I had nothing in the world to say, and feared hemight be in the same predicament. At length, however, he broke thepause by asking, with a certain quiet abruptness peculiar tohimself, if I liked flowers.

'Yes; very much,' I answered, 'wild-flowers especially.'

'I like wild-flowers,' said he; 'others I don't care about, becauseI have no particular associations connected with them - except oneor two. What are your favourite flowers?'

'Primroses, blue-bells, and heath-blossoms.'

'Not violets?'

'No; because, as you say, I have no particular associationsconnected with them; for there are no sweet violets among the hillsand valleys round my home.'

'It must be a great consolation to you to have a home, Miss Grey,'observed my companion after a short pause: 'however remote, orhowever seldom visited, still it is something to look to.'

'It is so much that I think I could not live without it,' repliedI, with an enthusiasm of which I immediately repented; for Ithought it must have sounded essentially silly.

'Oh, yes, you could,' said he, with a thoughtful smile. 'The tiesthat bind us to life are tougher than you imagine, or than anyonecan who has not felt how roughly they may be pulled withoutbreaking. You might be miserable without a home, but even YOUcould live; and not so miserably as you suppose. The human heartis like india-rubber; a little swells it, but a great deal will notburst it. If "little more than nothing will disturb it, littleless than all things will suffice" to break it. As in the outermembers of our frame, there is a vital power inherent in itselfthat strengthens it against external violence. Every blow thatshakes it will serve to harden it against a future stroke; asconstant labour thickens the skin of the hand, and strengthens itsmuscles instead of wasting them away: so that a day of arduoustoil, that might excoriate a lady's palm, would make no sensibleimpression on that of a hardy ploughman.

'I speak from experience - partly my own. There was a time when Ithought as you do - at least, I was fully persuaded that home andits affections were the only things that made life tolerable:that, if deprived of these, existence would become a burden hard tobe endured; but now I have no home - unless you would dignify mytwo hired rooms at Horton by such a name; - and not twelve monthsago I lost the last and dearest of my early friends; and yet, notonly I live, but I am not wholly destitute of hope and comfort,even for this life: though I must acknowledge that I can seldomenter even an humble cottage at the close of day, and see itsinhabitants peaceably gathered around their cheerful hearth,without a feeling ALMOST of envy at their domestic enjoyment.'

'You don't know what happiness lies before you yet,' said I: 'youare now only in the commencement of your journey.'

'The best of happiness,' replied he, 'is mine already - the powerand the will to be useful.'

We now approached a stile communicating with a footpath thatconducted to a farm-house, where, I suppose, Mr. Weston purposed tomake himself 'useful;' for he presently took leave of me, crossedthe stile, and traversed the path with his usual firm, elastictread, leaving me to ponder his words as I continued my coursealone. I had heard before that he had lost his mother not manymonths before he came. She then was the last and dearest of hisearly friends; and he had NO HOME. I pitied him from my heart: Ialmost wept for sympathy. And this, I thought, accounted for theshade of premature thoughtfulness that so frequently clouded hisbrow, and obtained for him the reputation of a morose and sullendisposition with the charitable Miss Murray and all her kin.'But,' thought I, 'he is not so miserable as I should be under sucha deprivation: he leads an active life; and a wide field foruseful exertion lies before him. He can MAKE friends; and he canmake a home too, if he pleases; and, doubtless, he will please sometime. God grant the partner of that home may be worthy of hischoice, and make it a happy one - such a home as he deserves tohave! And how delightful it would be to - ' But no matter what Ithought.

I began this book with the intention of concealing nothing; thatthose who liked might have the benefit of perusing a fellow-creature's heart: but we have some thoughts that all the angels inheaven are welcome to behold, but not our brother-men - not eventhe best and kindest amongst them.

By this time the Greens had taken themselves to their own abode,and the Murrays had turned down the private road, whither Ihastened to follow them. I found the two girls warm in an animateddiscussion on the respective merits of the two young officers; buton seeing me Rosalie broke off in the middle of a sentence toexclaim, with malicious glee -

'Oh-ho, Miss Grey! you're come at last, are you? No WONDER youlingered so long behind; and no WONDER you always stand up sovigorously for Mr. Weston when I abuse him. Ah-ha! I see it allnow!'

'Now, come, Miss Murray, don't be foolish,' said I, attempting agood-natured laugh; 'you know such nonsense can make no impressionon me.'

But she still went on talking such intolerable stuff - her sisterhelping her with appropriate fiction coined for the occasion - thatI thought it necessary to say something in my own justification.

'What folly all this is!' I exclaimed. 'If Mr. Weston's roadhappened to be the same as mine for a few yards, and if he chose toexchange a word or two in passing, what is there so remarkable inthat? I assure you, I never spoke to him before: except once.'

'Where? where? and when?' cried they eagerly.

'In Nancy's cottage.'

'Ah-ha! you've met him there, have you?' exclaimed Rosalie, withexultant laughter. 'Ah! now, Matilda, I've found out why she's sofond of going to Nancy Brown's! She goes there to flirt with Mr.Weston.'

'Really, that is not worth contradicting - I only saw him thereonce, I tell you - and how could I know he was coming?'

Irritated as I was at their foolish mirth and vexatiousimputations, the uneasiness did not continue long: when they hadhad their laugh out, they returned again to the captain andlieutenant; and, while they disputed and commented upon them, myindignation rapidly cooled; the cause of it was quickly forgotten,and I turned my thoughts into a pleasanter channel. Thus weproceeded up the park, and entered the hall; and as I ascended thestairs to my own chamber, I had but one thought within me: myheart was filled to overflowing with one single earnest wish.Having entered the room, and shut the door, I fell upon my kneesand offered up a fervent but not impetuous prayer: 'Thy will bedone,' I strove to say throughout; but, 'Father, all things arepossible with Thee, and may it be Thy will,' was sure to follow.That wish - that prayer - both men and women would have scorned mefor - 'But, Father, THOU wilt NOT despise!' I said, and felt thatit was true. It seemed to me that another's welfare was at leastas ardently implored for as my own; nay, even THAT was theprincipal object of my heart's desire. I might have been deceivingmyself; but that idea gave me confidence to ask, and power to hopeI did not ask in vain. As for the primroses, I kept two of them ina glass in my room until they were completely withered, and thehousemaid threw them out; and the petals of the other I pressedbetween the leaves of my Bible - I have them still, and mean tokeep them always.