‘Oh, my poor child! what have they brought you to? Pretending such affection, too!’
‘Indeed, mamma, I have meant this always. I could not be dependent all my life, you know. Do listen, mamma; don’t Ida—’
‘That my Lady Adela should insult us that way, when you are as good as she!’
‘Nonsense, Ida! That has nothing to do with it. It is the greatest possible compliment, and I am very much pleased.’
‘Just to live there, at her beck and call, drudging at that child’s lessons!’ sneered Ida.
‘Yes, and when I made sure, at least after all the fuss they have made with you, that your aunt would present you at Court, and make you the young lady of the house, and marry you well, but there’s no trust to be placed in them—none!’
‘Oh, mamma, don’t cry. I should not feel it right, unless Aunt Mary really needed me, and, though she is so kind and dear, she does not really. My only doubt is—’
‘You have a doubt, then?’
‘Yes. I should be so much fitter if I could go p. 186to one of the ladies’ colleges, and then come back to dear little Amice, but now I have failed, I don’t like to let Uncle Frank spend all that money on me, when I might be earning eighty pounds for myself.’
‘Well, you are a strange girl, with no proper pride for your family,’ said her mother.
And Ida chimed in: ‘Yes. Do you think any one will be likely to marry you? or if you don’t care about yourself, you might at least think of me!’
Mrs. Morton shed her ready tears when talking it over with Lady Northmoor.
‘You see,’ said Mary gently, ‘I should like nothing better than to have dear little Conny to live with me like a daughter, but, for one thing, it would not be fair towards Ida, and besides, it would not be good for her in case she did not marry to have wasted these years.’
Mrs. Morton by no means appreciated the argument. However, Lord Northmoor put off the matter by deciding to send Constance to St. Hugh’s Hall, thinking she really deserved such a reward to her diligence.
p. 187CHAPTER XXVIII
TWO BUNDLES OF HAY
Ida was, as all agreed, much improved in looks, style, and manners by her travels. Her illness had begun the work of fining her down from the bouncing heartiness of her girlhood, and she really was a handsome creature, with dark glowing colouring; her figure had improved, whether because or in spite of her efforts in that way might be doubtful; and she had learnt how to dress herself in fairly good taste.
Though neither Mademoiselle Gattoni nor the boarding-house society she had frequented was even second-rate in style, still there was an advance over her former Westhaven circle, with a good deal more restraint, so that she had almost insensibly acquired a much more ladylike air and deportment.
Moreover, the two years’ absence had made some changes. The young men who had been in the habit of exchanging noisy jests with Ida had mostly drifted away in different directions or sobered down; girl companions had married off; and a new terrace had been completed with p. 188inhabitants and sojourners of a somewhat higher grade, who accepted Mrs. and Miss Morton as well connected.
Mr. Rollstone’s lodgings were let to Mr. Deyncourt, a young clergyman who had come full of zeal to work up the growing district. He had been for a short time in the Northmoor neighbourhood, and had taken the duty there for a few weeks, so that he heard the name of Morton as prominent in good works, and had often seen Lady Adela and Constance with the Sunday-school. As Mr. Rollstone was not slow to mention the connection, he was not slow to call on Mrs. Morton and Miss Morton, in hopes of their co-operation, and as Mr. Rollstone had informed them that he was of ‘high family’ and of good private means, Mrs. Morton had a much better welcome for him than for his poor little predecessor, who lived over a shoemaker’s shop, and, as she averred, never came except to ask subscriptions for some nonsense or other.
Mr. Deyncourt was a tall fine-looking man, and did not begin by asking subscriptions, but talked about Northmoor, Constance, and Lady Adela, so that Ida found herself affecting much closer knowledge of both than she really had.
‘I found,’ he said, ‘that your sister is most valuable in the Sunday-school. I wonder if you would kindly assist us.’
Mrs. Morton began, ‘My daughter is not strong, Mr. Deyncourt.’
And Ida simpered and said, hesitating, ‘I—I don’t know.’
If poor Mr. Brown had ever been demented p. 189enough even to make the same request, he would have met with a very different answer.
‘I do not think it will be very fatiguing,’ said Mr. Deyncourt. ‘Do you know Mrs. Brandon? No! I will ask her to call and explain our plans. She is kind enough to let me meet the other teachers in her dining-room once a week to arrange the lessons for the Sunday. There are Miss Selwood and Mrs. and Miss Hume.’
These were all in the social position in which Ida was trying to establish her footing, and though she only agreed to ‘think about it,’ her mind was pretty well made up that it would be a very different thing from the old parish school where Rose Rollstone used to work among a set of small tradesmen’s daughters.
When she found herself quite the youngest and best-looking of the party, she was entirely won over. There was no necessity for speaking so as to betray one’s ignorance during Mr. Deyncourt’s instructions, and she was a person of sufficient force and spirit to impose good order on her class; and thus she actually obtained the gratitude of the young clergyman as an efficient assistant.
Their domiciles being so near together, there were many encounters in going in and out, nor were these avoided on either side. Ida had a wonderful amount of questions to ask, and used to lie in wait to get them solved.
