Mrs. Oliphant

“ Poor Harry was so glad of the glance, the smile, and the confidence, that he could have taken Endicott, who was the cause of it, to his very heart.
“The functions of the press,” said Mr Endicott, “are unjustly limited in this country, like most other enlightened influences. In these days we have scarcely time to wait for books. It is not with us as it was in old times, when the soul lay fallow for a century, and then blossomed into its glorious epic, or drama, or song! Our audience must perceive the visible march of mind, hour by hour and day by day. ”

“ If the young adventurer had been a man, this would have been a solemn crisis, full of fate: it was even so to a woman, seeking her own independence; but Agnes Atheling was only a girl in the heart of her family, and, looking out with laughing eyes upon her fortune, smiled at fate.
It is Saturday—yes, Saturday afternoon, slowly darkening towards the twilight. Agnes and Marian at the window are eagerly looking out, Mamma glances over their bright heads with unmistakable impatience, Papa is palpably restless in his easy-chair. ”

“ What more could any man do?
Meanwhile Mr Foggo sat in his armchair steadily regarding the candle before him. He loved conversation, but he was not talkative, especially in his own house. Sometimes the old man’s acute eyes glanced from under his shaggy brow with a momentary keenness towards Harry—sometimes they shot across the table a momentary sparkle of grim contempt; but to make out from Mr Foggo’s face what Mr Foggo was thinking, was about the vainest enterprise in the world. It was different with his sister: Miss Willsie’s well-complexioned countenance changed and varied like the sky. ”

“ Nothing had been heard yet of this venture, though it was nearly a month since Charlie took it to Mr Burlington, and the young genius looked with humble and earnest attention upon one who really had been permitted to make his utterance to the ear of all the world. He had published a book; he was a real genuine printed author. The lips of Agnes parted with a quick breath of eagerness; she looked up at him with a blush on her cheek, and a light in her eye. A thrill of wonder and excitement came over her: would people by-and-by regard herself in the same light?
“Oh, Mr Endicott!—is it poems?” ”

“ You never saw such splendid horses. Oh, mamma, how pleasant it would be to keep a carriage! I wonder if Agnes will ever be as rich as Mrs Edgerley; but then, though she is an author, she is a great lady besides.”
“Edgerley!” said Mr Atheling; “do you know, I heard that name at the Old Wood Lodge.”
“But, papa, what about the Lodge? you have never told us yet: is it as pretty as you thought it was? Can we go to live there? Is there a garden? I am sure now,” said Agnes, blushing with pleasure, “that we will have money enough to go down there—all of us—mamma, and Bell and Beau!” ”

“ And we are grieved to confess that, for the whole afternoon thereafter, Agnes Atheling was about as idle as it is possible even for a happy girl to be. No one but a girl could have attained to such a delightful eminence of doing nothing! She was somewhat unsettled, we admit, and quite uncontrollable,—dancing about everywhere, making her presence known by involuntary outbursts of singing and sweet laughter; but sterner lips than Mamma’s would have hesitated to rebuke that fresh and spontaneous delight. ”

“ She was not above the ambition of calling it either Atheling Lodge, or Hawthorn Cottage, but it was very hard to make a family decision upon the prettiest name; so the house of the Athelings, with its eccentric garden, its active occupants, and its cheery parlour-window, was still only Number Ten, Bellevue.
And there in the summer sunshine, and in the wintry dawning, at eight o’clock, Mr Atheling took his seat at the table, said grace, and breakfasted; from thence at nine to a moment, well brushed and buttoned, the good man went upon his daily warfare to the City. ”

“ Do you mean to tell me that a father would cheat his son with promises? No! no! no! Your excuses won’t do for me.”
“And as for speaking of the father and son, as if it was natural they should be opposed to each other, I am surprised at you, Mr Foggo,” said Mrs Atheling, with emphatic disapproval. “There’s my Charlie, now, a wilful boy; but do you think he would set his face against anything his papa or I might say?”
“Charlie,” said Mr Foggo, with a twinkle of the grey-brown eye which shone clear and keen under folds of eyelid and thickets of eyebrow, “is an uncommon boy. ”

“ I would not have that.”
“I won’t have that, and so you know very well,” said Charlie, who was by no means indisposed for a quarrel. “You are always aggravating, you girls—as if you knew anything about it! I’ll tell you what; I don’t mind how it is, but I’m a man to be something, as sure as I live.”
“You are not a man at all, poor little Charlie—you are only a boy,” said Marian.
“And we are none of us so sure to live that we should swear by it,” said Agnes. “If you are to be something, you should speak better sense than that.” ”

“ These good people, though they loved much to see their children happy and well esteemed, had no idea of any such unnecessary efforts; and Marian shone out of her brown merino frock, and her little pink rosebuds, as sweetly as ever shone a princess in the purple and pall of her high estate. Mrs Atheling thought Marian “would look well in anything,” in the pride of her heart, as she pinched the bit of white lace round Marian’s neck when Mr Foggo and Miss Willsie were coming to tea. ”

“ A GREAT VISITOR. Mayfair came in, radiant, blooming, splendid, with a rustle of silks, a flutter of feathers, an air of fragrance, like a fairy creature not to be molested by the ruder touches of fortune or the world. Bellevue stood up to receive her in the person of Mrs Atheling, attired in a black silk gown which had seen service, and hastily setting down a cup of tea from her hand. ”

“ Two little children are playing on the rug before the fire—very little children, twins scarcely two years old—one of them caressing the slippered foot of Mr Atheling, the other seated upon a great paper book full of little pictures, which serves at once as amusement for the little mind, and repose for the chubby little frame. They are rosy, ruddy, merry imps, as ever brightened a fireside; and it is hard to believe they are of the same family as Charlie and Agnes and Marian. ”

“ And now it was done—there was a momentary pause of solemn silence, not disturbed even by Bell and Beau.
“So this is the beginning of Agnes’s fortune,” said Mr Atheling. “Now Mary, and all of you, don’t be excited; every book does not succeed because it finds a publisher; and you must not place your expectations too high; for you know Agnes knows nothing of the world.”
It was very good to say “don’t be excited,” when Mr Atheling himself was entirely oblivious of his newspaper, indifferent to his tea, and actually did not hear the familiar knock of Mr Foggo at the outer door. ”

“ I know better: they have birth and education, and all that, and get the start of everybody, and then they make a row about it. I don’t see, for my part,” said the young gentleman meditatively, “what it is but chance. A man may succeed, or a man may fail, and it’s neither much to his credit nor his blame. It is a very odd thing, and I can’t understand it—a man may work all his life, and never be the better for it. It’s chance, and nothing more, so far as I can see.”
“Hush, Charlie—say Providence,” said Agnes, anxiously. ”

“ That’s what they ought to have,” said Charlie. “Who cares for all that trumpery? not old Foggo, I’m sure, nor Miss Willsie; and they are all the people we ever see.”
“Hold your peace, Charlie,” said Mrs Atheling, “and don’t say old Foggo, you rude boy. He is the best friend you have, and a real gentleman; and what would your papa do with such a set of children about him, if Mr Foggo did not drop in now and then for some sensible conversation. It will be a long time before you try to make yourself company for papa.” ”

“ Mr and Mrs Atheling, with the tenderest exultation, rejoiced over Marian, who was pretty, and Agnes, who was clever; yet, loving these two still more than they admired them, they by no means realised the fact that the one had beauty and the other genius of a rare and unusual kind. We are even obliged to confess that at times their mother had compunctions, and doubted whether Agnes, a poor man’s daughter, and like to be a poor man’s wife, ought to be permitted so much time over that overflowing blotting-book. ”

“ Agnes for once was the more matter-of-fact of the two.
“At your time of life,” continued the anxious mother, “a single day may have as much effect as many years. Indeed, Marian, my love, it is nothing to smile about. You must be very careful; and, Agnes, you are the eldest—you must watch over your sister. Oh, take care!—you do not know how much harm might be done in a single day.”{261}
“Take care of what, mamma?” said Marian, glancing up quickly, with that beautiful faint blush, and a saucy gleam in her eye. ”

“ This was said with a little enthusiasm, and brought the rising colour to Harry Oswald’s brow. His cousin looked at him, with a curl of his thin lip and a somewhat malignant eye. Miss Willsie looked at him hastily, with a quick impatient nod of her head, and a most rapid and emphatic frown. Finally, Mr Foggo lifted to the young man’s face his acute and steady eye.
“Keep to your physic, Harry,” said Mr Foggo. The hapless Harry did not meet the glance, but he understood the tone.
“Well, uncle, well,” said Harry hastily, raising his eyes; “but a man cannot always keep to physic. ”

“ Not the big head of Charlie, bending over the grammars, but the magnificent stature of Sir Langham Portland, drawn up in sentry fashion by her side; and at the recollection Marian’s pretty lip could not refuse to smile.
“Hush, my dear!—you may easily know what I mean,” said Mrs Atheling uneasily. “You must try not to be awkward or timid; but you must not forget how great a difference there is between Mrs Edgerley’s friends and you.”
“Nonsense, Mary,” cried her husband, energetically. “No such thing, girls. Don’t be afraid to let them know who you are, or who you belong to. ”

“ Everybody else seemed to have feelings so much more elevated than they—for they both remembered with a pang of shame that Agnes had actually been glad and jubilant when this first great work was done.
“And such a sweet heroine—such a charming character!” said Mrs Edgerley. “Ah, I perceive you have taken your sister for your model, and now I shall always feel sure that she is Hope Hazlewood; but at your age I cannot conceive where you got so much knowledge of the world. Do you go out a great deal? do you see a great many people? ”

“ She might never have found it out had she known only Harry Oswald; but Sir Langham Portland threw light upon the subject which Marian had scarcely guessed at before. Do you think she was grateful on that account to the handsome Guardsman? Marian’s sweet face brightened all over with amused half-blushing smiles. It was impossible to tell.
“But, Marian,” said Agnes, “I want to be particular about one thing. We must not deceive any one. Nobody must suppose we are great ladies. If anything should happen of any importance, we must be sure to tell who we are.” ”

“ We read your leading papers in the States, but I have not met half-a-dozen people in England—actually not six individuals—who were in the frequent habit of seeing the Mississippi Gazette.”
“We rarely see any newspapers at all,” said Agnes, apologetically. “Papa has his paper in the evenings, but except now and then, when there is a review of a book in it——”
“That is the great want of English contemporary literature,” interrupted Mr Endicott. “You read the review—good! but you feel that something else is wanted than mere politics—that votes and debates do not supply the wants of the age!” ”

“ When one has read Hope Hazlewood, one knows your mamma. Oh, that charming, delightful book! Now, confess you are quite proud of her. I am sure you must be.”
“She is a very good girl,” said Mrs Atheling doubtfully, flattered, but not entirely pleased—“and we are very deeply obliged to Mrs Edgerley for the kindness she has shown to our girls.”
“Oh, I have been quite delighted,” said Mayfair; “but pray don’t speak in the third person. How charmingly fragrant your tea is!—may I have some? How delightful it must be to be able to keep rational hours. What lovely children! What beautiful darlings! ”