Home Influence: A Tale for Mothers and Daughters

A fortnight after Mr. Hamilton's arrival, Ellen was well enough to go down stairs for part of the day, and even to read and write a little. She was so very anxious to recommence her studies, which for many months had been so painfully neglected, that it was a great trial to her, to find her head was not yet strong enough for the necessary application. There were many, very many privations and trials, attendant on convalescence after so severe an illness, known only to Ellen's own heart, and to her aunt's quick sympathy; and she very quickly learned in them the meaning of Mrs. Hamilton's words regarding religion in conduct and feeling, as well as in prayer. She tried never to murmur, or dwell on the wish for pleasures which were denied her, but to think only on the many blessings which surrounded her. It was not an easy task so to conquer natural feeling, especially as the trial and its conquest was often known only to herself; but the earnest wish, indeed, to become holy in daily conduct, as well as in daily prayer, never left her mind, and so enabled her at length fully to obtain it.

If Mrs. Hamilton had wanted evidence of her husband's public as well as domestic worth, she would have had it fully now. His danger and his preservation once known, letters of regard and congratulation poured upon him, and Montrose Grahame made a journey down to Oakwood expressly to welcome back, and express his individual gratitude for his friend's safety to his youthful preserver. But Edward so shrunk from praise or admiration, that his uncle, rejoicing at the feeling, would not press him, as he had first intended, to accompany him to Oxford, where he went to see his sons. Percy rated him soundly in a letter for not coming. Herbert seemed, as if he could only think of his father's danger, and thank God for his safety, and for permitting Edward to be the means. So great was the desire of Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton to re-assemble all their happy family once more, before Edward left them, that the young men made an exception to their general rule, and promised to spend Easter week at home. It was early in March, and anticipated by the home party with the greatest delight.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE RICH AND THE POOR

"We have had such a delightful excursion, mamma. Ellen, how I do wish you could have been with us!" joyously exclaimed Emmeline, as she ran into the usual sitting room, one of those lovely afternoons, that the first days of March so often bring, promising spring long before she really comes. "It is such a picturesque cottage, and Dame Collins, and Susan, and a host of little ones, look so nice, and so clean, and so pretty, and happy; it does one's heart good to look at them."

"Are you sure you can not find another adjective to apply to them, Emmy? You have heaped so many together, that it is a pity you can not find a few more."

"But they really do look so comfortable, and are so grateful for all you and papa have done for them: Emmeline's description for once, is not too flowing," rejoined the quieter Caroline, who had followed her sister into the room.

"And were they pleased with your visit?" asked Ellen.

"Oh, delighted! particularly at our making their pretty little parlor our dining-room, and remaining so long with them, that they could show us all their comforts and conveniences, without any bustle."

"Mrs. Collins is really a sensible woman. Do you not think so, mamma?" inquired Caroline.

"Yes, my dear. She has brought up her own large family and her poor orphan grandchildren so admirably, in the midst of their extreme poverty, and bears such a name for kindness among her still poorer neighbors, that I truly respect and admire her. She is quite one of those in whom I have often told you some of the very loftiest virtues are to be found; and yet to see her, as she trudges about in her homely, humble fashion, never dreaming she is doing or has done any thing remarkable in her hard-working life, who would suspect it?"

"Only look, Ellen, how beautifully our collection will be increased," continued Emmeline, who just at that moment was only alive to pleasure, not to contemplation, even of goodness, in which she much delighted, and pouring into her cousin's lap a basket of beautiful shells and other marine treasures. "Papa has just given us a new cabinet in time, though he only thought of it as a place for his Feroe curiosities. To think of his remembering our tastes even there!"

"But where did you get these from?"

"Why, the children were playing with some, which were so perfect, I could not help admiring them, and Mrs. Collins was in a bustle of pleasure that I liked any thing so trifling, because she could gratify me, and she made me take all these, adding, that her good man would be sure to look out for some more for us; for when I told her they not only pleased me, but my poor invalid cousin, who was Edward's sister, you should have seen how her eyes sparkled."

"Oh, you have quite won the dame's heart, Emmy!" said Miss Harcourt. "What with talking to her, and to Susan, and playing with every one of the children, and making them tell you all their plays and their schooling, and then gathering you a nosegay, telling them it should adorn your room at home!"

"And so it shall," gayly interrupted Emmeline; "I desired Robert to put them in water directly, for they were very pretty, and I like them better than the best bouquet from our greenhouse."

"I do not quite agree with you, Emmeline," said Caroline, smiling.

"Not you, Lina, who ever thought you would? by-the-by, I never saw you so agreeable and natural in a poor man's cottage in my life. What were you saying to Dame Collins? actually holding her hand, and something very bright shining in your eye."

"Dear Emmy, do not run on so," whispered Ellen, as she noticed Caroline's cheek crimson. Emmeline was at her side in a moment, with an arm round her neck.

"Caroline, dear, forgive me. I did not mean to tease you; only it was unusual, was it not?"

"I was trying to tell Mrs. Collins all I thought of her husband's share in saving our dear father, Emmy. I forgot all of folly and pride then."

"You are very seldom proud now, dearest Lina, and I was the foolish one not to have guessed what you were saying, with out tormenting you. Mamma, do you know I have such an admirable plan in my head?"

"First tell mamma," interrupted Caroline, "that William Grey has chosen to be a partner with Collins in the more extended fishing and boating business, which papa has secured them, instead of entering into business by himself; this has been settled since you were there, I think."

"Yes, my dear, I did not know it; but Mrs. Collins must like it, for she regretted very much that her sons were all scattered in different trades, and her little grandson, whose taste pointed to the sea, was not old enough to go out with his grandfather."

"But only listen to my plan, mamma, dear! William Grey and Susan Collins can not possibly see much of each other, without falling in love; and they will make such an industrious, pretty couple, and papa will give them a cottage to themselves, and I will go to their wedding!"

"Just such a plan as I should expect from your giddy brain, Emmy. But how do you know that Grey has any desire for a wife?"

"Oh, because Edward said he could not help remarking, even in the midst of that awful scene, how mournfully he said he would bear a hand, for he had neither mother, sister, nor wife to pipe for him; now, if he married Susan, he would have a very pretty wife to lament him."

"Poor Susan, I fancy she would rather not become his wife, if it be only to mourn for him, Emmy; rather a novel reason for a marriage, certainly."

"Oh, but mamma, dear! you know that I don't mean exactly and only that; somebody to be interested for, and love him. No one can be happy without that."

"Susan was telling me, mamma, how thankful she is to you, for finding her and her sister employment, that they might be able to help the family," rejoined Caroline. "I was quite pleased with her manner of speaking, and she blushed so prettily when Miss Harcourt praised the extreme neatness of her work."

"Ah, mamma, if you could but hear all they say of you!" again burst forth Emmeline, who it seemed could not be quiet, going from one subject to another with the same eager zest; "if you had but heard the old dame tell her astonishment and her pride, when she saw you enter their former miserable hut, and sitting down on an old sea-chest, invite her to tell, and listened to all her troubles, just as if you had been her equal, and left such comfort and such hope behind you, as had not been theirs for many a long day. She actually cried when she spoke, and so did I, because she spoke so of my mother. Oh, mother, darling, how proud your children ought to be, to belong to one so beloved, so revered by the poor and the rich too, as you are!"

"Flatterer!" playfully answered Mrs. Hamilton, laying her hand caressingly on her child's mouth, as she knelt in sport before her. "I will not bear such praise, even from you. Believe me, darling, to win love and respect is so easy, so delightful, that there is no merit in obtaining it. We ought only to be thankful, when granted such a station and such influence as will permit extended usefulness and thought for others, without wronging our own."

"Yes; but, mamma, many people do a great deal of good, but somehow or other they are not beloved."

"Because, perhaps, in their earnest desire to accomplish a great deal of good, they may not think quite enough of little things, and of the quick sympathy with other persons' feelings, which is the real secret of winning love, and without which, sometimes even the greatest benefit is not valued as it ought to be. But did you see old Collins himself?"

"He came in just before we left, and was so delighted to see papa sitting in his ingle-nook, and only wished Edward had been there too."

"And where is your father?" asked Mrs. Hamilton. "Did he not return with you?"

"Yes, but Edward wanted him, and they are in the library. I am quite certain there is some conspiracy between them; these long private interviews bode no good. I shall scold papa for being so mysterious," said Emmeline.

"I rather think he will return the benefit, by scolding you for being so curious, Emmy. But here is Edward, so the interview to-day has not been very long."

"Has papa been telling you old Collins' naval news, Ned?" And, without waiting for an answer, she continued, "that there is a fine seventy-four, the Sea Queen, preparing at Plymouth, to take the place of your old ship, and send back Sir Edward Manly and the Prince William. Now do not tell me you know this, Edward, and so disappoint me of the rare pleasure of telling news."

"I am sorry, Emmy, but I have known it for some weeks."

"And why did you not tell us?"

"Because I did not think it would particularly interest you until I could add other intelligence to it." He stopped, and looked alternately at Mrs. Hamilton and Ellen, as if asking the former whether he might proceed.

"And can you do so now, my dear Edward?" she replied understanding him at once. "Ellen is too anxious for your advancement to expect, or wish you always to remain with her. Have you your appointment?"

"Yes aunt. My uncle's letter to the admiralty brought an answer at last. It came while he was out, and has been tantalizing me on the library-table for four hours. But it is all right. As the Prince William is returning, and I am so anxious to be still in active service, I am permitted, though somewhat against rule, to have a berth in the Sea Queen. I am sure it is all uncle Hamilton's representations, and I am so thankful, so glad!"

"To leave us all, again, you unfeeling savage!" exclaimed Emmeline, trying to laugh off the universal regret at this announcement. Ellen had looked earnestly at her brother all the time he spoke, and then turned her face away, and a few quiet tears trickled down her cheek. Edward's arm was very quickly round her, and he whispered so many fond words and earnest assurances, united with his conviction that it would still be a whole month, perhaps more, before he should be summoned, as he had leave to remain with his family till the Sea Queen was ready to sail, that she rallied her spirits, and, after remaining very quiet for an hour, which was always her custom when she had had any struggle with herself, for the frame felt it – though neither word nor sign betrayed it – she was enabled fully to enjoy the grand delight of the evening – Percy's and Herbert's arrival.

Easter week was indeed one of family joy and thankfulness not only that they were all permitted once more to be together but that the heavy clouds of sin and suffering had rolled away from their roof, and pleasure of the sweetest and most enduring because most domestic kind, reigned triumphant. Percy's astonishment at Edward's growth, and the alteration from the handsome, joyous, rosy boy, to the pale, almost care-worn looking youth (for as long as Ellen bore such vivid traces of all she had endured for his sake, and was, as it were, the constant presence of his errors, Edward tried in vain to recover his former spirits), was most amusing.

"You are all deceived," he would declare; "one of these days you will discover you have been receiving a spurious Edward Fortescue, and that he is as much a pretender as his namesake, Charles Edward."

"Then he is no pretender, Percy. He is as truly the son of Colonel Fortescue, as Prince Charles was the grandson of James. Now don't begin a civil contest directly you come home; you know you and I never do agree on historical subjects, and we never shall; you hate Mary the great, great, great grandmother of Prince Charles, and I love her, so we must be always at war."

"Stuart-mad, as usual, Tiny! but if that really be Edward, I wish he would just look a boy again, I don't like the change at all; poor fellow!" he added, to himself, "it is not much wonder."

The days passed much too quickly. Emmeline wished a dozen times that the days would be twenty-four, instead of twelve hours long. The weather was so genial that it added to enjoyment, and allowed Ellen the delight, known only to such prisoners to sickness as she had been, of driving out for an hour or two at a time, and taking gentle walks on the terrace, and in the garden. The young men were to return on the Monday, and of the Saturday previous, a little excursion had been planned, to which the only drawback was that Ellen was not quite strong enough to accompany them: it was to visit Alice Seaton, whom we mentioned in a former chapter. Mr. Hamilton had succeeded in finding her brother a lucrative employment with a lawyer in one of the neighboring towns, a few miles from where she and her aunt now lived, enabling young Seaton to spend every Sabbath with them; and Alice now kept a girls' school on her own account, and conducted herself so well as never to want scholars. It had been a long promise to go and see her, the drive from Oakwood being also most beautiful; and as she and her brother were both at home and at leisure the last day in Easter, it had been fixed upon for the visit. Percy was reveling in the idea of driving his mother and Miss Harcourt in a new barouche, and the rest of the party were to go on horse back. But a dispute had arisen who should stay with Ellen and Edward insisted upon it, it was his right; and, so they thought it was agreed.

"I wish, dear Percy you would prevail on Edward to accompany you," pleaded Ellen, fancying herself alone with him, not seeing Herbert, who was reading at a distant table.

"I wish, dear Ellen, you were going with us," he answered, mimicking her tone.

"But as I can not, make him go. It always makes him more unhappy when I am prevented any pleasure, than it does myself; and I can not bear to keep him by me four or five hours, when this lovely day, and the exercise of riding, and, above all, your company, Percy, would make him, at least for the time, almost his own merry self, again."

"Thanks for the implied compliment, cousin mine," replied Percy, with a low bow.

"Reward me for it, and make him go."

"How can I be so ungallant, as to make him leave you alone?"

"Oh, I do not mind it, I assure you! I am well enough to amuse myself now; I can not bear you all giving up so many pleasures as you have done for me; I am so afraid of getting selfish."

"You selfish, Ellen? I wish you were a little more so; you are the most patient, devoted little creature that ever took woman's form. You have made me reproach myself enough, I can tell you, and I owe you a grudge for doing so."

"Dear Percy, what can you mean? If you knew how hard I find it to be patient, sometimes, you would not praise me."

"I mean that the last time I was at home, I was blind and cruel, and added to your sufferings by my uncalled-for harshness, and never had an opportunity till this moment, to say how grieved I was – when the truth was known."

"Pray do not say any thing about it, dear Percy," entreated his cousin, the tears starting to her eyes, as he kissed her warmly; "it was only just and natural that you should have felt indignant with me, for causing aunt Emmeline so much misery, and alloying all the enjoyment of your holidays. I am sure you need not reproach yourself; but will you make Edward go?"

"If it really will oblige you, Ellen; but I do not half like it." And he was going very reluctantly, when he met Herbert.

"You need not go, Percy," he said, smiling; "my ungracious cousin would not depute me as her messenger, but I made myself such, and so successfully that Edward will go, Ellen."

"Dear Herbert, how can I thank you enough! he will be so much happier with you all."

"Not with me," said Herbert, archly, "for I remain in his place."

"You!" repeated Ellen, surprised; "indeed, dear Herbert, it must not be. I shall do very well alone."

"Ungracious still, Ellen! what if I have been looking all the morning for some excuse to stay at home, without owning to my mother the truth – that I do not feel to-day quite equal to riding? If your looks were as ungracious as your words, I would run away from you into my own room; but as they are rather more gratifying to my self-love, we will send them all away, and enjoy our own quiet pleasures and your little drive together, Nell."

Whatever Ellen might have said to convince him she could be happy alone, the beaming look of pleasure on her countenance, satisfied all parties as to the excellence of this arrangement; and happy, indeed, the day was. Herbert seemed to understand her unexpressed feelings so fully; and that always makes the charm of conversation, whatever its subject. We do not require the expression in words of sympathy – it is an indescribable something that betrays its existence. Favorite authors – and Herbert was almost surprised at Ellen's dawning taste and judgment in literature – the delights of nature after a long confinement, as if every flower were more sweet, every bit of landscape, or wood, or water more beautiful, and the many holy thoughts and pure joys springing from such feelings, were all discussed, either cosily in their sitting-room, or in their ramble in the garden; and after Ellen's early dinner, which Herbert shared with her as lunch, she proposed, what she knew he would like, that her drive should be to Greville Manor, and they might spend a full hour with their friends, and yet be back in time. Herbert assented gladly; and the warm welcome they received, Mrs. Greville's kind care of Ellen, and Mary's eager chat with her and Herbert, and the number of things they seemed to find to talk about, made the hour literally fly; but Herbert, enjoyable as it was, did not forget his charge, and drove her back to Oakwood while the sun still shone bright and warmly: and when the party returned, which they did only just in time to dress for dinner, and in the wildest spirits, the balance of pleasure at home and abroad, would certainly have been found quite equal.

Ellen still continued quietly to lie down in her own room while the family were at dinner, for she was then sufficiently refreshed to join them for a few hours in the evening. Percy and Emmeline, at dinner that day, kept up such a fire of wit and mirth, that it was somewhat difficult for any one else to edge in a word, though Edward and Caroline did sometimes contrive to bring a whole battery against themselves. Just as the dessert was placed on the table, however, sounds of rural music in the distance, advancing nearer and nearer, caused Percy to pause in his wild sallies, and spring with Edward to the window, and their exclamations soon compelled all the party to follow their example, and send for Ellen to see the unexpected sight too. Banners and pennons floated in the sunshine, and the greater part of the nautical inhabitants of Dartmouth were marshaled in goodly array beside them, headed by Captain Harvey and his crew, with old Collins in the midst of them; they were all attired in the new clothing which Mr. Hamilton had presented to them; and a fine picture Percy declared old Collins's head would make, with his weather-beaten, honest-speaking face, the very peculiar curls in which his really yellow hair was twisted, and the quid of tobacco, from which, even on this grand occasion, he could not relieve his mouth and cheek. A band of young men and girls surrounded the first banner, which, adorned with large bunches of primroses and violets up the staff, bore the words, "Hamilton and benevolence;" and among them Emmeline speedily recognized William Grey and Susan Collins, walking side by side, she looking down and smiling, and he so earnestly talking, that she whispered to her mother with the greatest glee, that her plan would take place after all. Then came a band of sturdy fishermen, chums and messmates of Collins, and then a band of boys and girls, from all Mr. Hamilton's own village schools, decked in their holiday attire, and holding in their hands tasteful garlands of all the spring flowers they could muster, and bearing two large banners, one with the words, "Fortescue forever! All hail to British sailors!" and the other a representation of the scene on the beach that eventful night, and the sinking vessel in the distance. The workmanship was rude indeed, but the effect so strikingly descriptive, that Mrs. Hamilton actually shuddered as she gazed, and grasped, almost unconsciously, the arm of her nephew as he stood by her, as if the magnitude of the danger, both to him and her husband, had never seemed so vivid before.

The windows of the dining-room had been thrown widely open, and as the rustic procession came in sight of those to whom their whole hearts tendered homage, they halted; the music ceased, and cheer on cheer resounded, till the very echoes of the old park were startled out of their sleep, and sent the shout back again. Percy was among them in a moment, singling out old Collins, whom he had tried repeatedly to see since his visit home, but never found him, and grasped and shook both his hands with the full vehemence of his character, pouring out the first words that chose to come, which better expressed his grateful feelings to the old man than the most studied speech. William Grey had already received substantial proofs of his gratitude, and so he had then only a kind nod, and a joke and look at the pretty, blushing Susan, which said a vast deal to both, and seemed as if he quite seconded Emmeline's plan. Mingling joyously with all, he had bluff words, after their own hearts, for the men, smiles for the maidens, and such wild jokes for the children, as lost them all decorum, and made them shout aloud in their glee. Herbert seconded him quite as well as his quieter nature would allow. Edward had hung back, even when his name was called out lustily, as if he could not bear such homage.

"Join them, my boy; their humble pleasure will not be half complete without you," whispered Mrs. Hamilton, earnestly, for she guessed his thoughts. "Remember only at this moment the large amount of happiness you have been permitted to call forth. Do not underrate a deed which all must admire, because of some sad thoughts; rather resolve – as you can and have resolved – that the alloy shall be burned away, and the true metal alone remain, for my sake, to whom you have given such happiness, dear Edward."

The cloud dispersed from brow and heart in a moment; and he was in the midst of them, glad and buoyant almost as Percy; while the cheer which greeted him was almost overpowering to his sister, so much humble, yet earnest feeling did it speak.