L. T. Meade

“ In fact, my dear girls, I may as well tell you that I have the greatest horror of those men who are known as fortune seekers, the men who court girls simply because they want their money. A girl who has not money has a very poor chance in the society in which she usually moves. I do not know which is the worst off, the handsome poor girl who is attracted by the rich parvenu and marries him for his wealth, or the handsome poor man who marries the rich girl because of her money. You, my dears, will at least be saved from this calamity. ”

“ We at Langdale know each other so well that we are, in fact, like one big family. What affects one affects all. The sorrows of one try the hearts of all the others. The joys of one equally rejoice the hearts of all the others. In your happiness, my darling, the rest of us rejoice. It was Major Reid who told me; he came himself to-day to speak of his son’s attachment to you. He was delighted himself; he has a great, great affection and a deep admiration for you, Florence; and I—I also think Michael an excellent young man. ”

“ Susie was upright, honest as the day. Mrs Fortescue was a crooked-minded woman; but very straight people are, as a rule, apt not to see the crookedness of their friends. Susie liked every one at Langdale, just as much as the Colonel liked them. She was heartily pleased to see her friend, and told her so, frankly. Susie was not wearing her grey barège, and the supporting silk lining could not therefore sustain her; but she was very neatly dressed in an old black serge which she had altered with her own clever fingers, and which fitted her plump form to perfection. ”

“ I am anxious about the Heathcotes, poor dears! Poor dears! the world will receive them coldly—”
“I do not think so,” said Susie.
Mrs Fortescue shook her head.
“You do not know the world, Susie Arbuthnot. You think you do; but you don’t. The fact is—it shudders at the poor, and the older it grows, the more it despises poverty, the more it requires every one whom it takes to its heart to be rich—rich.” Susie was silent. “Those poor young things,” continued Mrs Fortescue—“if there is any way in which I can help them—I came here this morning. Susie, to tell you that I am willing to do it.” ”

“ Every one loved them at Langdale, and they were the life and light of the place.
The Colonel was just as economical in the matter of clothes as Susie. That winter overcoat of his must have seen the light for long years—one might almost say, generations. Its original black had changed to a musty green, but at one time it had been cut by a fashionable tailor, and, somehow or other, the Colonel looked well in it. He was very upright, as all well-drilled men are, and he walked with a certain martial stride, holding his head erect, and looking all the world in the face. ”

“ It takes most of us many long years to learn the lesson which you have learned at once.”
“I am not thinking about riches at all,” said Florence. She looked at him again, and then she resolved to tell. “May I come with you into your study for a few minutes?” she said.
“Why, certainly, my dear child,” he replied; and he took her hand and led her into the study. He shut the door and turned and faced her.
“Well, Florence,” he said; “what is it?”
“You say I am not rich, Colonel Arbuthnot,” was Florence’s answer; “but I am just about as rich as any girl can be.” ”

“ I know that is not what the world would call rich,” (Mrs Fortescue hated Susie for making this remark) “and most certainly father and I are not. We just contrive and contrive, and always have enough for a jolly Christmas dinner when we can really entertain our friends. I don’t believe any two people in all the world are happier than my darling dad and myself, and it doesn’t come from riches, for we have to be very careful. Oh, no; rich people are not the happiest, I do assure you on that point.” ”

“ They looked quite different from the ordinary Langdale girls. Florence held herself very well, and although she acknowledged herself to be a beauty, had no self-conscious airs. Brenda’s sweet face appeared to see beyond the ordinary line of vision, as though she were always communing with thoughts deeper and more rare than those given to most. People turned and looked at the girls as they walked up the little High Street. Most people knew them, and were interested in them. They were the very charming young ladies who always spent their holidays with Mrs Fortescue. ”

“ On this occasion the gallant lieutenant had been seen walking down the High Street with two or three young ladies. But he had stopped at sight of Florence looking so radiant, so different from any other girl, in her beautiful sealskin jacket with that becoming sealskin cap. He had looked at her, but had said nothing, cruelly contenting himself with taking off his hat. But his eyes—and Michael had very handsome eyes—seemed to express volumes, and Florence had gone back again to the Arbuthnots’ house feeling warm and happy.
Yes; she knew now quite well that she loved him, and love was beautiful. ”

“ Florence could not help thinking how strange the circumstances of their lives had become. They were very poor girls. They were absolutely without a penny in the world—that is, almost without a penny; and yet they had to travel first-class, and one girl would not be allowed to go back to Langdale alone. She turned to Mr Timmins. An idea came to her.
“If we are to be poor,” she said, “and to earn our living, why don’t you let us begin at once? It is far, far kinder than allowing us to spend our last penny and then starting us on this cold world with nothing to protect us against its rebuffs.” ”

“ Try some, won’t you, Florence?”
But Florence declared that she could not eat curry with the true eastern flavour and preferred some cold mutton, which Susie out for her with right good-will.
“I like your food,” she said. “It is so good and wholesome. I hate messy things. Mrs Fortescue was always making things up for us, imagining that we could not eat plain things.”
“You will get very plain things here,” said Susie. “It’s only father who has to be petted and fussed over. But then he is worth it—he is such an old dear,” and she looked at him with her honest eyes beaming with affection. ”

“ But Florence’s next words astonished her elder sister very much.
“I am a year younger than you,” said Florence, “and I have been proposed for before you, Brenda. Michael cares for me; he cares for me for myself alone. He absolutely wants me to be poor, very poor, as poor as a church mouse, he says, in order that he may show to all the world how deeply he loves me. He doesn’t care for me in the very least because he thinks I have money. ”

“ But he looked very hard at both girls as they walked up the aisle of the church, accompanied by Mrs Fortescue. Even in her plain school dress, Florence had an air of distinction, and Brenda looked quiet and charming. Michael Reid felt his heart beating quite agreeably. His father’s advice, after all, was sound. If he could secure a wife who had four, five, six, or seven hundred a year—and, of course, there was a great likelihood that she would have much more—why, his fortune would be made. Florence had seen no other man as yet, but she had a schoolgirl friendship for him. ”

“ Even Brenda was a pretty girl, but Florence was quite above the ordinary with regard to good looks. There was something so fresh and innocent, and withal pathetic, about the young creatures, that the men who watched them felt their hearts softening both with admiration and affection. Those who were old thought that they would like such girls to be their daughters, and those who were young felt instinctively that such girls would make good wives and sisters. The girls passed through the different rooms, and were presently ushered into Mr Timmins’ own private sanctum. ”

“ For years I have given them a mother’s care, and—sweet girls!—they have repaid me amply.”
“They are fine girls, both of them,” said the Major.
“Fine!” said Mrs Fortescue. “I should scarcely express what the girls are by that word. Aristocratic—I should call them; more particularly Florence, and yet in some ways Brenda has a rare dignity of her own—like a sweet winter rose: that is what I call her; whereas Florence is like the passion-flower. Marvellous grace that child possesses! He certainly will be a happy man who secures her.”
“I am coming to that,” said Major Reid. ”

“ Brenda was silent. Florence said eagerly—“I mean to marry as soon as possible.” Here she laughed, showing her pearly teeth, and a flashing light of anticipated triumph coming into her eyes.
“Of course you will marry soon, Florence,” said Mrs Fortescue. “You are far too pretty not to be somebody’s darling before long. And you, Brenda, also have an exceedingly attractive face. What are your dreams for the future, my love?”
“I cannot tell you,” said Brenda.
She got up as she spoke, and walked to the window. After a time, she said something to her sister, and the girls left the room arm-in-arm. ”

“ Your father’s money, with the exception of a small sum which I believe Mr Timmins mentioned to you, has nearly been exhausted. You were to face the world, prepared in one sense, but unprepared in another. You were to look at the world, for a short time, as poor girls, not as rich ones. Your own characters were to be submitted to this trial and, still more important, the characters of your so-called friends. Do sit down, Florence; how white your face is! Brenda, come and kneel by me, darling.” Florence dropped into a chair. ”

“ It was wrong of him; he ought not to have done it.”
“He did nothing wrong,” said Florence; “he spoke up like a man. I suppose a man can’t help loving a girl.”
“He ought not to have done it like that,” repeated Brenda. “I know I am right: he ought on no account to have done it like that.”
“It is very queer of you to speak to me in that tone, Brenda,” said her sister, “and I must say that I am very much astonished. I cannot understand what you mean. Why should not Michael care for me? He is a gentleman: he is an officer in the King’s army. We know his father; we know his people. ”

“ I will myself write to Mrs Fortescue, and tell her that her services, as far as you both are concerned, will come to an end on the twentieth of January, that Brenda has found a home—as I expect will be probable—with Lady Marian Dixie, and that she will be paid for you both until that date.”
“And I?” said Florence, once more.
“Ah, Florence,” said the old lawyer; “better things may be in store for you; but time will prove. There is nothing, my dear, in all the world, like disinterested affection, like the true, true homage of the heart, which has nothing to do with money nor outward accessories. ”

“ The young man was an acknowledged flirt, and was fond of the society of all pretty girls; and what pretty girl at Langdale could compare with Florence? That she had taken a walk with him on the following day had scarcely aroused any suspicions. The young people were old friends. Florence would make a great match some day. So beautiful, so rich, so well-born—what had she not to give a husband? Poor Michael Reid would indeed be a silly man if he fell in love with a girl like Florence. The visit, therefore, of Major Reid did not in the least connect itself with Florence in Mrs Fortescue’s mind. ”

“ His son Michael had been a favourite with the Heathcote girls as long as they could remember. He was considered to be of their own rank in life, and Mrs Fortescue, in consequence, asked him to dine, and play with them during the holidays. When he was very small, he rather bullied them; but as he grew older, he began to think a great deal of Florence’s beauty, and even to imagine himself in love with her. He was the sort of young man who always kept his father in a state of alarm with regard to money, and spent a great deal more than he had a right to do. ”

“ You, who have your fixed and settled income can scarcely understand what it is to be a woman of my means—a woman with an uncertain, a fluctuating supply of money; enough just for her bare needs one year, and too little for them the next. I lost my temper—not, indeed, with the girls themselves, but with that exceedingly deceitful man, Mr Timmins, who might have told me how the dear children were placed long, long before he did. ”

“ In all respects, it was a contrast to the Grange, where the Arbuthnots managed to make every penny do its utmost work. Nobody cared what became of things at the old Moat, and there was hardly a more miserable old man than Major Reid, as he sat now at his lunch table, trying to find something tasty and agreeable in his badly-done chop. Mrs Fortescue, who was feeling so fierce that she would dare anything, followed in the steps of Colonel Arbuthnot and said quickly—“I know your master is in: I must see him at once on important business.” ”

“ I cannot go into full particulars, but Mr Timmins will, if necessary, enlighten you—was to lie at compound interest awaiting the moment when you were to receive it. My dear girls, a certain portion of that money is to be devoted to what may be called your higher education—that which you will receive during the next three years—and afterwards you will be rich, dears, I trust; not only rich in money, but rich in the better things, which mean courage, and endurance, and faith, and sympathy. ”

“ Again he had to ask her what it was.
“About your feeling just the same to me if I were as poor as a church mouse.”
“So I should,” he answered, with enthusiasm. “How could riches enhance your value? A man likes a girl for herself. He is indifferent, quite indifferent as to whether she has money or not.”
“That is the sort of man I admire,” said Florence. ”

“ When it was over, Mr Timmins said—
“Now, my dears, I want to say something to you.”
They both looked at him attentively.
“I am going to take you, Florence, and you, Brenda, to see my old friend, Lady Marian Dixie. She is an elderly woman and full of the milk of human kindness. She will talk to you herself, and I will not tell you beforehand what she is likely to say: indeed, it would be difficult for me to do so, for I do not know myself. Afterwards, the probabilities are that you, Florence, will go back to Langdale, and that Brenda will stay with Lady Marian.” ”