The Clever Woman of the Family

correspondence, and now and then used to divert himself with rousing her into emphatic declarations of her preference of this delicate little being to “great, stout, coarse creatures that people call fine children.” In fact, Alick’s sensitive tenderness towards his sister’s motherless child took the form of avoiding the sight of it, and being ironical when it was discussed; but with Mr. Clare, Rachel was sure of sympathy, ever since the afternoon when he had said how the sounds upstairs reminded him of his own little daughter; and sitting under the yew-tree, he had told Rachel all the long stored-up memories of the little life that had been closed a few days after he had first heard himself called papa by the baby lips. He had described all these events calmly, and not without smiles, and had said how his own blindness had made him feel thankful that he had safely laid his little Una on her mother’s bosom under the church’s shade; but when Rachel spoke of this conversation to her husband, she learnt that it was the first time that he had ever talked of those buried hopes. He had often spoken of his wife, but though always fond of children, few who had not read little Una’s name beneath her mother’s cross, knew that he was a childless father. And yet it was beautiful to see the pleasure he took in the touch of Bessie’s infant, and how skilfully and tenderly he would hold it, so that Rachel in full faith averred that the little Alexander was never so happy as with him. The chief alarms came from Mrs. Comyn Menteith, who used to descend on the Rectory like a whirlwind, when the Colonel had politely expelled her from her father’s room at Timber End. Possessed with the idea of Rachel’s being very dull at Bishopsworthy, she sedulously enlivened her with melancholy prognostics as to the life, limbs, and senses of the young heir, who would never live, poor little darling, even with the utmost care of herself and her nurse, and it was very perverse of papa and the doctors still to keep him from her⁠—poor little darling⁠—not that it mattered, for he was certain not to thrive, wherever he was, and the Gowanbrae family would end with Uncle Colin and the glassblower’s daughter; a disaster on which she met with such condolence from Alick (N.B. the next heir) that Rachel was once reduced to the depths of genuine despair by the conviction that his opinion of his nephew’s life was equally desponding; and another time was very angry with him for not defending Ermine’s gentility. She had not entirely learnt what Alick’s assent might mean.

Once, when Mrs. Menteith had been besetting her father with entreaties for the keys of Lady Keith’s private possessions, she was decisively silenced, and the next day these same keys were given to Alick, with a request that his wife would as soon as possible look over and take to herself all that had belonged to his sister, except a few heirloom jewels that must return to Scotland. Alick demurred greatly, but the old man would not brook contradiction, and Rachel was very unwillingly despatched upon the mission on one of Alick’s days of prostration at home. His absence was the most consoling part of this sad day’s work. Anyway it could not be otherwise than piteous to dismantle what had been lately so bright and luxurious, and the contrast of the present state of things with that in which these dainty new wedding presents had been brought together, could not but give many a pang; but beside this, there was a more than ordinary impression of “vanity of vanities, all is vanity,” very painful to affection that was striving to lose the conviction that it had been a self-indulgent, plausible life. The accumulation of expensive trinkets and small luxuries, was as surprising as perplexing to a person of Rachel’s severely simple and practical tastes. It was not only since the marriage; for Bessie had always had at her disposal means rather ample, and had used them not exactly foolishly, but evidently for her own gratification. Everything had some intrinsic worth, and was tasteful or useful, but the multitude was perfectly amazing, and the constant echo in Rachel’s ears was, “he heapeth up riches and cannot tell who shall gather them.” Lord Keith could hardly have found an executrix for his poor young wife, to whom her properties would have done so little harm. Rachel set many aside for the cousins, and for Mrs. Menteith, others she tried to persuade the Colonel to call Gowanbrae belongings, and failing in this, she hoped through Grace, to smuggle some of them into his Gowanbrae; but when all was done, there was a mass of things that Lord Keith never wished to see again, and that seemed to Rachel to consist of more ornaments than she could ever wear, and more knickknacks than a captain’s wife could ever carry about with her.

She was putting aside the various packets of letters and papers to be looked over more at leisure, when the Colonel knocked at the morning-room door, and told her that his brother would like to see her, when her work was done. “But first,” he said, “I must ask you to be kind enough to look over some of these papers, and try to find receipts for some of those bills.”

“Here they are,” said Rachel, “I was going to look them over at home.”

“If you have time to examine them here with me,” said Colonel Keith, gently, “I think it might save Alick some pain and vexation.”

Rachel was entirely unaware of his meaning, and supposed he only thought of the mere thrilling of the recent wound; but when he sat down and took a long account out of a tradesman’s envelope, a chill of dismay came over her, followed by a glow of hope as she recollected a possible explanation: “Have these