قراءة كتاب Kingsworth; or, The Aim of a Life
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Kingsworth; or, The Aim of a Life
enthusiastic temper.
George went to see her, and told her of the plan proposed. Their home, he said, “had been lonely since their mother’s death, and his father required both her presence within the house, and his assistance about the estate.”
Miss Lacy listened, thoughtfully. “You think we are so much wanted as to make this a duty?” she said.
“Don’t you like the notion, Mary?” said George, surprised.
“I should like it very much,” said Mary, with clear directness, “if you were the eldest and the heir. But as it is, I think I want you to make a career for yourself. But oh, George, I am ashamed of being so selfish and worldly-minded. Of course we must do it if your father wants us. And, don’t you think, don’t you think, George, that if Kingsworth was very bright and cheerful, it would be better for your brother too?”
“I am quite sure that every one will be the better for having you there, my dearest!”
“I will try, I will try my very best to have it so,” said Mary, earnestly.
What better could she wish than to help her husband to sacrifice his natural desire for an independent career to his father’s need? she would be wealthy, and her marriage settlements were to be handsome, there was no difficulty on that score, but she was ambitious enough to feel that the choice was a sacrifice, and enthusiastic enough to glory in being able to think of George as a hero, worthy of the good old Kingsworth name. So when the honeymoon was over, the bride came home, a young light-hearted creature, spite of her lofty carriage and shy manners, ready to love and respect her new relations, and with a specially kind thought, and as kind a look as her bashfulness permitted for James, who was to be helped to reform by his good brother, and reinstated in his father’s favour.
James admired her very much. As he said, he could not have the luck to fix his affections on so undeniable an object. He had a very different ideal in his mind. What would his father say to the pretty penniless nursery governess, who had won his affections? He did not care what his father said, but he did care for what his father did, and a vague idea crossed his mind that his new sister-in-law might be a kind and generous ally.
She, on her side, felt that in setting these family disturbances right, she would find an object worthy of all her energies, and one only to be accomplished by herself living up to the strong Church principles and religious motives which, adopted perhaps as a matter of taste or education, were now to be tested by the trials of real life.
Chapter Two.
The Reading of the Will.
Mrs George Kingsworth had reigned for a year over Kingsworth House, her father-in-law had grown very fond of her, and the estate had prospered under George’s management. But James scarcely ever came home, and was no nearer than before to his father’s favour. Mr Kingsworth, though not old, was much broken in health, and it was not surprising that he should lean much on the son who was close at hand.
So mused the young wife as she sat in a little breakfast room in the second autumn after her marriage; her little four months old daughter on her knee. Her face had grown much graver and sterner since her wedding day, and she was only half attending to her lively cooing baby, as if her thoughts were not free to take pleasure in it.
“I don’t think George need have shown that angry letter to his father,” she thought, “what good could it do any one? I suppose such faults as James’s do seem intolerable to a person like George. They are horrible.” As these thoughts passed through her mind, her husband came into the room. He looked serious, said something about the weather, touched the baby’s cheek with his finger, and at length observed, “Well, I am afraid poor James has done for himself at last!”
“How, what has happened?” said Mary, in alarm.
“They say a man is never ruined till he is married!”
“Married? Has he written to say so? Did you know anything about it?”
“He has not written, but my uncle has picked up a report, which he heard from Mr Hatton, that James has been married for some time. Of course if he had made a particularly creditable choice there would be no occasion for secrecy. We have heard less than usual of him lately.”
“Do you know, can you guess at all who it is, George?”
“Well, I’m not sure, I think I can form a notion.”
“Is it so very bad?”
“Quite a low connection, they say, not at all what my father would like, of course. But I can’t undertake to answer for James, I don’t know anything about it.”
“What shall you do? Oh, George, don’t you think it might be made a turning point? If James would write to your father and tell him all.”
“I shall write and advise him to make a clean breast of it; but he has offended my father over and over again: and at last, people must take the consequences of their actions.”
Mrs George heard nothing more of the correspondence that ensued, she was not in the habit of hearing much of the family affairs; and being clever, and with strong clear opinions as to what was right and good, she would have liked to receive a little more confidence, and to have known the meaning of the lawyer’s visits which just at that time were frequent. She could not forget these matters in the fact that her little Katharine had cut two teeth, or leave them in utter trust to her husband’s judgment.
Whatever playful companionship or constant caresses the baby missed in her mother, was supplied by a young nursemaid named Alice Taylor, a merry, laughing, black-eyed girl, who was devoted to the baby, and so thought well of by her mistress, but who was not approved of by the other servants, among whom she had made no secret of her preference for the lively complimentary Mr James over the very grave and silent young master now in command.
The old housekeeper put forth a hint that Alice was “flighty,” and her mistress was meditating a little improving conversation, when this as well as all other considerations were put out of her mind by the dangerous illness of her father-in-law.
The illness was very sudden and very short, and before his son and his brother could reach Kingsworth all was over. This brother was a clergyman of some reputation, and had recently been appointed to a canonry of Fanchester, the cathedral town of the county in which Kingsworth was situated. His presence was a great comfort and help, especially to Mrs Kingsworth, who was very fond of him. James did not arrive till the day before the funeral; the letter had followed him abroad, he said, and had been delayed. He was shocked and subdued, and George was very busy, so that there was not much opportunity of conversation between them; but late in the evening as Mary was sitting in the drawing-room by herself, James came in and said with hesitation, “Mary, you have always been a very kind sister to me: I wonder if you will be equally kind to—my wife?”
“Oh, James, I hope so!” she said, with sudden colour. “But won’t you tell me something about her?”
“Hasn’t George told you? Didn’t you know I was married?” he said quickly.
“Yes, but—”