CHAPTER IX.
"Mamma," said Janet, a few days after this, "are you going to return Lady Chester's visit?"
"No, my dear, certainly not. It was very proper of her to call, as she thought herself obliged to us for shelter from that rain, and as for her kindness to little Charlie, it passes all belief, except that everybody loves that child, but she don't want me as a visitor, and a nice figure I should be in her drawing-room. Why there's been as many as eight or ten carriages there the two last afternoons, with such fine people in them. That Duchess's carriage is always there. I should be more out of place there, than the Baroness was here.
"That awful Baroness!" said Rose, "Charles says she is to arrive at Marble Hall to-morrow for good, did not you, Charles?"
"I said she was coming to stay—good I never anticipate, and in this case I anticipate considerable evil. She is too prosperous to enter into my feelings. Look! what she sent me to-day." And he brought from an envelope black bordered to the extent of half an inch, four tickets of the brightest blue, ornamented with Cupids performing most dangerous antics on diminutive rosebuds. "Tickets for a picnic, the Lord Mayor's barge, and a band, and probably dancing; in fact, everything most repugnant to my tastes and habits—the Baroness should have a little more tact," and he almost groaned as he detailed this pointed affront to his reputation for complete broken-heartedness.
"To be sure, my dear, it was rather thoughtless; but you see, she meant well, for the tickets are marked at a guinea each, It was a handsome idea; though why she should spend four guineas to make you do what you don't like, I cannot see."
"Is it possible?" slowly murmured Willis, "can any one be so blind to the sordid side of human nature and picnics? Ma'am, I am to pay her for them, that is, if I had kept them, I should have paid. She is a patroness, and has so many tickets she must dispose of, and she wished to pass four of them off on me, that's all," and he replaced them in the black envelope which contained a note in still deeper mourning, which note conveyed to the Baroness a stern intimation that "Mr. Willis never (two dashes under never) joined any (one dash) party of Pleasure, and was quite (two more dashes) unequal to the gaieties of a picnic." He looked at his note with a satisfied air of finished despondency.
"Miss Janet," said Charlie's nurse, presenting herself, "Lady Chester's compliments and she'd be much obliged if you would step in for a few minutes, if not ill-convenient."
"Nothing the matter with Charlie, is there?" said Janet jumping up. The two young aunts doted on that child.
"Bless your heart, no, Miss! except that he's in a fair way to be utterly spoiled. Missus telled me to keep him out of the way, as my Lady was so kind about the garden; but Law, first one and then another comes, and the tall gentleman with the moustache who is there for everlasting, wanted to put him cot and all into a boat and give him a row; but I thought he might be drownded like; and I knowed I should be sea sick, so I said, no; and now, Miss, will you come?"
"Must I go Mamma? That poor Mrs. Thompson is dimissed from the hospital to-day, and she has not a friend nor a relation in the world, and I promised to go and see her, and consult with the matron as to what could be done for her.
"Is she a widow?" asked Willis.
"Yes, her husband was drowned, and she met with some dreadful accident, and has been in the hospital for three months."
"Well, in consequence of her bereavement, I will give you the price of one of these tickets," said Willis, who was in high good humour at the notice taken of his child, and with himself for the dignified rebuke he had given the Baroness. "Yet money is no consolation."
"Oh, is not it?" interrupted Janet, "you would not say so, if you saw some of those poor creatures crying when they leave the hospital because they have no home to go to. I am sure I am very much obliged to you, Charles, your guinea will be such an assistance to that poor woman. Mamma, if I have not returned from Pleasance in a quarter of an hour, will you take it to her?" and so saying she departed.
She was shown into Blanche's boudoir, who apologized for having sent for her, but "We," she said, pointing to a tall distinguished-looking woman, very simply dressed, who was sitting by her, "are much interested about two or three poor women in the hospital here, and Mr. Greydon says that you know them all, and can give us more information about them than he can."
Janet's heart beat with delight. Mr. Greydon's praises were as unexpected as they were delightful, and she keenly felt, too, the possibility of benefitting some of her favourite protégées. Mrs. Thomson's case was considered and relieved, an asylum procured for a young crippled orphan, and "Clara" as the dignified friend was called by Lady Chester, said she had heard much from the poor patients of Miss Hopkinson's assiduity in visiting and reading to them, and how they enjoyed hearing her and her sister sing.
"Oh, do you sing?" exclaimed Blanche, "I have not heard a song for ages, you must give me one."
"You would not call mine singing, Lady Chester," said Janet, smiling, "my sister and I have had very little instruction, and have scarcely ever heard any real music; but we have taught ourselves a few chants and hymns, and some old fashioned ballads, which please our poor sick friends, but I doubt if they would please anybody else. We moved our pianoforte into the back room when you came here, for fear our noise should disturb you."
The Dead March in Saul, struck its melancholy old chords on Blanche's conscience, but she remembered that it was played with great expresssion, and again she begged Janet to sing, and opened the pianoforte; but Janet said that an accompaniment was not necessary for the little she could do, and that little was not worth asking for twice. So without the slightest shyness she began 'Old Robin Grey,' in a rich sweet voice that astonished her hearers. She seemed to be reciting the story, rather than singing the song, with a degree of pathos that overpowered them; and just as the heroine's heart was 'like to break,' a sob from Lady Chester put an end to her griefs, and to Robin's hopes, and Janet's ballad.
"What is the matter, Lady Chester?" she exclaimed.
"Why, your singing, child; it's worse than the 'mither that did not speak,' for breaking hearts. It is the most touching thing I ever heard. Now is it not, Clara?"
But Clara was wiping her eyes, and did not answer.
"Dear Miss Hopkinson, what a gift that voice of yours is; it would be so kind if you would let us come sometimes and hear you and your sister practice. Is her singing equal to yours?"
"Rose sings much better than I do," said Janet simply, "and if you really think it would amuse you, and are not saying these kind things merely to please me, I am sure we should both be delighted to come and sing to you whenever you like. We are expecting dear papa home next month," she added, her eyes sparkling with delight, "and he is so fond of all these old ballads, that we are very musical just now. If you have nothing more to ask about the hospital, Lady Chester, I should like to go there now, to tell Mrs. Thompson and Ellen Smith what will make them so happy; and I will just run first into the garden, and send little Charlie home, I cannot tell you how much mamma feels your kindness to our poor little darling."
"He is a darling," said Blanche.
"And a great pet of mine," added Clara. "My carriage is at the door, Miss Hopkinson, and I will put you down at the hospital; while you send your little nephew home, I will put on my bonnet, and we will meet you in the hall."
"Oh, thank you," said Janet, "then I am sure of being in time for Mrs. Thompson," and she ran hastily down stairs.
"Now that is what I call a pleasing girl," said the Duchess, "not shy, nor awkward, and yet not forward; and she is evidently spending her quiet little life in doing all the good that comes within her means. Then her singing! My dear, I am ashamed of myself. I began to fancy that the Duke was old Robin Grey, and that I must have jilted some Jamie for him. You and Aileen, Blanche, have escaped being fast—"
"Thanks to Aunt Sarah," said Blanche.
"And thanks to your own good sense and taste; but if you could see some of the young girls who have hardly been out a year! their forward manners, the way in which they talk upon subjects, which even now I should be ashamed to allude to—their careless manners to their mothers, and their extraordinary self-sufficiency—you would be shocked. That unaffected quiet girl is quite refreshing. I think I shall cultivate the Hopkinsons, Blanche."
In the hall, the Duchess found Janet, who, at the sight of the carriage, became aware of her companion's rank, and rather regretted the bold measure she had taken, in accepting a drive with an unknown friend. She did not know precisely how to address her; had visionary ideas of saying your Grace, which she rejected as plebeian; and then wondered at herself for having sung to a person whose concerts were constantly mentioned as the finest in London. "However," as she told Rose afterwards, "the Duchess was not half so grand as Baroness Sampson, and quite unlike her; and when I have said that, it shews why I found myself talking to her about you, and mamma, and the poor people; just as I should to any of our own friends; and when we reached the hospital, I could not help begging her to come in, that she might tell those poor women herself what arrangements she had made for them. It was so nice to hear her talk to them, and then she is able to do so much for them. How pleasant it must be to be very rich. And then Mr. Greydon came in," added Janet, blushing, "and do you know she told him of my singing, and he said he had never had the good fortune of hearing the Miss Hopkinsons sing, except at church, and she said he had then a great pleasure to come. She wanted to bring me home. Again I thought of the Baroness and her rudeness to dear mamma; but of course I preferred walking. Mr. Greydon walked part of the way with me." And then there followed a pause, the fact was too important to be mixed up with meaner subjects, and Mr. Greydon's remarks on the promising crops, and the prevalence of whooping cough in the school, and the slight improvement of little Charlie, were put by for private rumination. They were too sacred to be imparted even to Rose.