Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's Brood

Charlotte M. Yonge

Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's Brood

CHAPTER I.JOE BROWNLOWS FANCY

Mother, you could do a great kindness.

Well, Joe?

If you would have the little teacher at the Miss Heaths here for the holidays. After all the rest, she has had the measles last and worst, and they dont know what to do with her, for she came from the asylum for officers daughters, and has no home at all, and they must go away to have the house purified. They cant take her with them, for their sister has children, and she will have to roam from room to room before the whitewashers, which is not what I should wish in the critical state of chest left by measles.

What is her name?

Allen. The cry was always for Miss Allen when the sick girls wanted to be amused.

Allen! I wonder if it can be the same child as the one Robert was interested about. You dont remember, my dear. It was the year you were at Vienna, when one of Roberts brother-officers died on the voyage out to China, and he sent home urgent letters for me to canvass right and left for the orphans election. You know Robert writes much better than he speaks, and I copied over and over again his account of the poor young man to go with the cards. Caroline Otway Allen, aged seven years, whole orphan, daughter of Captain Allen, l07th Regiment; yes, thats the way it ran.

The year I was at Vienna, and Robert went out to China. That was eleven years ago. She must be the very child, for she is only eighteen. They sent her to Miss Heaths to grow a little older, for though she was at the head of everything at the asylum, she looks so childish that they cant send her out as a governess. Did you see her, mother?

Oh, no! I never had anything to do with her; but if she is daughter to a friend of Roberts

Mother and son looked at each other in congratulation. Robert was the stepson, older by several years, and was viewed as the representative of sober common sense in the family. Joe and his mother did like to feel a plan quite free from Roberts condemnation for enthusiasm or impracticability, and it was not the worse for his influence, that he had been generally with his regiment, and when visiting them was a good deal at the United Service Club. He had lately married an heiress in a small way, retired from the army, and settled in a house of hers in a country town, and thus he could give his dicta with added weight.

Only a parent or elder brother would, however, have looked on Joe as a youth, for he was some years over thirty, with a mingled air of keenness, refinement, and alacrity about his slight but active form, altogether with the air of some implement, not meant for ornament but for use, and yet absolutely beautiful, through perfection of polish, finish, applicability, and a sharpness never meant to wound, but deserving to be cherished in a velvet case.

This case might be the pretty drawing-room, full of the choice artistic curiosities of a man of cultivation, and presided over by his mother, a woman of much the same bright, keen, alert sweetness of air and countenance: still under sixty, and in perfect health and spiritsas well she might be, having preserved, as well as deserved, the exclusive devotion of her only child during all the years in which her early widowhood had made them all in all to each other. Ten years ago, on his election to a lectureship at one of the London hospitals, the son had set up his name on the brass plate of the door of a comfortable house in a once fashionable quarter of London; she had joined him there, and they had been as happy as affection and fair success could make them. He became lecturer at a hospital, did much for the poor, both within and without its walls, and had besides a fair practice, both among the tradespeople, and also among the literary, scientific, and artistic world, where their society was valued as much as his skill. Mrs. Brownlow was well used to being called on to do the many services suggested by a kind heart in the course of a medical mans practice, and there was very little within, or beyond, reason that she would not have done at her Joes bidding. So she made the arrangement, exciting much gratitude in the heads of the Pomfret House Establishment for Young Ladies; though without seeing little Miss Allen, till, from the Doctors own brougham, but escorted only by an elderly maid-servant, there came climbing up the stairs a little heap of shawls and cloaks, surmounted by a big brown mushroom hat.

Very proper of Joe. He cant be too particular,but such a child! thought Mrs. Brownlow as the mufflings disclosed a tiny creature, angular in girlish sort, with an odd little narrow wedge of a face, sallow and wan, rather too much of teeth and mouth, large greenish-hazel eyes, and a forehead with a look of expansion, partly due to the crisp waves of dark hair being as short as a boys. The nose was well cut, and each delicate nostril was quivering involuntarily with emotionor fright, or both.

Mrs. Brownlow kissed her, made her rest on the sofa, and talked to her, the shy monosyllabic replies lengthening every time as the motherliness drew forth a response, until, when conducted to the cheerful little room which Mrs. Brownlow had carefully decked with little comforts for the convalescent, and with the ornaments likely to please a girls eye, she suddenly broke into a little irrepressible cry of joy and delight. Oh! oh! how lovely! Am I to sleep here? Oh! it is just like the girls rooms I always did long to see! Now I shall always be able to think about it.

My poor child, did you never even see such a room?

No; I slept in the attic with the maid at old Aunt Marys, and always in a cubicle after I went to the asylum. Some of the girls who went home in the holidays used to describe such rooms to us, but they could never have been so nice as this! Oh! oh! Mrs. Brownlow, real lilies of the valley! Put there for me! Oh! you dear, delicious, pearly things! I never saw one so close before!

Never before. That was the burthen of the song of the little bird with wounded wing who had been received into this nest. She had the dimmest remembrance of home or mother, something a little clearer of her sojourn at her aunts, though there the aunt had been an invalid who kept her in restraint in her presence, and her pleasures had been in the kitchen and in a few books, probably Don Quixote and Evelina, so far as could be gathered from her recollection of them. The week her father had spent with her, before his last voyage, had been the one vivid memory of her life, and had taught her at least how to love. Poor child, that happy week had had to serve her ever since, through eleven years of unbroken school! Not that she pitied herself. Everybody had been kind to hergovernesses, masters, girls, and all. She had been happy and successful, and had made numerous friends, about whom, as she grew more at home, she freely chatted to Mrs. Brownlow, who was always ready to hear of Mary Ogilvie and Clara Cartwright, and liked to draw out the stories of the girl-world, in which it was plain that Caroline Allen had been a bright, good, clever girl, getting on well, trusted and liked. She had been half sorry to leave her dear old school, half glad to go on to something new. She was evidently not so comfortable, while Miss Heaths lowest teacher, as she had been while she was the asylums senior pupil. Yet when on Sunday evening the Doctor was summoned and the ladies were left tete-a-tete, she laughed rather than complained. But still she owned, with her black head on Mrs. Brownlows lap, that she had always craved for somethingsomething, and she had found it now!

Everything was a fresh joy to her, every print on the walls, every ornament on the brackets, seemed to speak to her eye and to her soul both at once, and the sense of comfort and beauty and home, after the bareness of school, seemed to charm her above all. I always did want to know what was inside peoples windows, she said.

And in the same way it was a feast to her to get hold of a real book, as she called it, not only the beginnings of everything, and selections that always broke off just as she began to care about them. She had been thoroughly well grounded, and had a thirst for knowledge too real to have been stifled by the routine she had gone throughthough, said she, I do want time to get on further, and to learn what wont be of any use!

Of no use! said Mr. Brownlow laughinghaving just found her trying to make out the Old English of King Alfreds Boethiussuch as this?

Just so! They always are turning me off with This wont be of any use to you. I hate use

Like Ridley, who says he reads a book with double pleasure if he is not going to review it.

That Mr. Ridley who came in last evening?

Even so. Why that opening of eyes?

I thought a critic was a most formidable person.

You expected to see a mess of salt and vinegar prepared for his diet?

I should prepare something quite differentmilk and sweetbreads, I think.

To soften him? Do you hear, mother? Take advice.

Carolineor Carey, as she had begged to be calledblushed, and drew back half-alarmed, as she always was when the Doctor caught up any of the little bits of fun that fell so shyly and demurely from her, as they were evoked by the more congenial atmosphere.

It was a great pleasure to him and to his mother to show her some of the many things she had never seen, watch her enjoyment, and elicit whether the reality agreed with her previous imaginations. Mr. Brownlow used to make time to take the two ladies out, or to drop in on them at some exhibition, checking the flow of half-droll, half-intelligent remarks for a moment, and then encouraging it again, while both enjoyed that most amusing thing, the fresh simplicity of a grown-up, clever child.

How will you ever bear to go back again? said Careys school-friend, Clara Cartwright, now a governess, whom Mrs. Brownlow had, with some suppressed growls from her son, invited to share their one days country-outing under the horse-chestnut trees of Richmond.

Oh! I shall have it all to take back with me, was the answer, as Carey toyed with the burnished celandine stars in her lap.

I should never dare to think of it! I should dread the contrast!

Oh no! said Carey. It is like a blind person who has once seen, you know. It will be always warm about my heart to know there are such people.

Mrs. Brownlow happened to overhear this little colloquy while her son was gone to look for the carriage, and there was something in the bright unrepining tone that filled her eyes with tears, more especially as the little creature still looked very fragileeven at the end of a month. She was so tired out with her day of almost rapturous enjoyment that Mrs. Brownlow would not let her come down stairs again, but made her go at once to bed, in spite of a feeble protest against losing one evening.

And I am afraid that is a recall, said Mrs. Brownlow, seeing a letter directed to Miss Allen on the side-table. I will not give it to her to-night, poor little dear; I really dont know how to send her back.

Exactly what I was thinking, said the Doctor, leaning over the fire, which he was vigorously stirring.

You dont think her strong enough? If so, I am very glad, said the mother, in a delighted voice. Eh, Joe? as there was a pause; and as he replaced the poker, he looked up to her with a colour scarcely to be accounted for by the fire, and she ended in an odd, startled, yet not displeased tone, It is thatis it?

Yes, mother, it is that, said Joe, laughing a little, in his relief that the plunge was made. I dont see that we could do better for your happiness or mine.

Dont put mine first (half-crying).

I didnt know I did. It all comes to the same thing.

My dear Joe, I only wish you could do it to-morrow, and have no fuss about it! What will Robert do?

Accept the provision for his friends daughter, said Joe, gravely; and then they both burst out laughing. In the midst came the announcement of dinner, during which meal they refrained themselves, and tried to discuss other things, though not so successfully but that it was reported in the kitchen that something was up.

Joseph was just old enough for his mother, who had always dreaded his marriage, to have begun to wish for it, though she had never yet seen her ideal daughter-in-law, and the enforced silence during the meal only made her more eager, so that she began at once as soon as they were alone.

When did you begin to think of this, Joe?

Not when I asked you to invite herthat would have been treacherous. No, but when I began to realise what it would be to send her back to her treadmill; though the beauty of it is that she never seems to realise that it is a treadmill.

She might now, though I tried so hard not to spoil her. It is that content with such a life which makes me think that in her you may have something more worth than the portion, whichwhich I suppose I ought to regret and say you will miss.

I shall get all that plentifully from Robert, mother.

I am afraid it does entail harder work on you, and later on in life, than if you had chosen a person with something of her own.

Something of her own? Her own, indeed! Mother, she has that of her own which is the very thing to help and inspire me to make a name, and work out an idea, worth far more than any pounds, shillings, and pence, or even houses or lands I might get with a serene and solemn dame, even with clear notions as to those same L. s. d.!

For shame, Joe! You may be as much in love as you please, but dont be wicked.

For this description was applicable to the bride whom Robert had presented to them about a year ago, on retiring with a Colonels rank.

So I may be as much in love as I please? Thank you. I always knew you were the very best mother in the world: and he came and kissed her.

I wonder what she will say, the dear child!

May be that she has no taste for such an old fellow. Hush, mother. Seriously, my chief scruple is whether it be fair to ask a girl to marry a man twice her age, when she has absolutely seen nothing of his kind but the German master!

Trust her, said Mrs. Brownlow. Nay, she never could have a freer choice than now, when she is too young and simple to be weighted with a sense of being looked down on. It is possible that she may be startled at first, but I think it will be only at life opening on her; so dont be daunted, and imagine it is your old age and infirmity, said the mother, smoothing back the locks which certainly were not the clustering curls of youth.

How the mother watched all the next morning, while the unconscious Carey first marvelled at her nervousness and silence, and then grew almost infected by it. It was very strange, she thought, that Mrs. Brownlow, always so kind, should say nothing but humph on being told that Miss Heaths workmen had finished, and that she must return next Monday morning. It was the Doctors day to be early at the hospital, and he had had a summons to see some one on the way, so that he was gone before breakfast, when Careys attempts to discuss her happy day in the country met with such odd, fitful answers; for, in fact, Mrs. Brownlow could not trust herself to talk, and had no sooner done breakfast than she went off to her housekeeping affairs and others, which she managed unusually to prolong.