THE COTTAGERS
As I had now only one regular pupil—though she to give me as much trouble as three or four ordinary ones, and though her sister still took lessons in German and drawing—I had more time at my own than I had been with before, since I had taken upon me the governess's yoke; which time I to with my friends, to reading, study, and the of music, singing, &c., to in the or fields, with my if they wanted me, alone if they did not.
Often, when they had no more at hand, the Misses Murray would themselves with visiting the on their father's estate, to their homage, or to the old or news of the old women; or, perhaps, to the of making the people happy with their presence and their occasional gifts, so easily bestowed, so received. Sometimes, I was called upon to one or of the sisters in these visits; and sometimes I was to go alone, to some promise which they had been more to make than to perform; to some small donation, or read to one who was or disposed: and thus I a among the cottagers; and, occasionally, I to see them on my own account.
I had more in going alone than with either of the ladies; for they, to their education, themselves their in a manner that was for me to witness. They never, in thought, places with them; and, consequently, had no for their feelings, them as an order of beings different from themselves. They would watch the at their meals, making about their food, and their manner of eating; they would laugh at their and expressions, till some of them to speak; they would call the men and old and old to their faces: and all this without meaning to offend. I see that the people were often and by such conduct, though their of the "grand ladies" them from any resentment; but they it. They that, as these were and untaught, they must be and brutish; and as long as they, their superiors, to talk to them, and to give them and half-crowns, or articles of clothing, they had a right to themselves, at their expense; and the people must them as of light, to minister to their necessities, and their dwellings.
I many and to deliver my from these without their pride—which was easily offended, and not soon appeased—but with little result; and I know not which was the more of the two: Matilda was more and boisterous; but from Rosalie's age and lady-like were expected: yet she was as careless and as a child of twelve.
One day in the last week of February, I was walking in the park, the threefold luxury of solitude, a book, and weather; for Miss Matilda had set out on her daily ride, and Miss Murray was gone in the with her to pay some calls. But it me that I ought to these selfish pleasures, and the park with its of sky, the west wind through its yet branches, the snow-wreaths still in its hollows, but melting fast the sun, and the deer on its already the and of spring—and go to the of one Nancy Brown, a widow, son was at work all day in the fields, and who was with an in the eyes; which had for some time her from reading: to her own great grief, for she was a woman of a serious, turn of mind. I went, and her alone, as usual, in her little, close, dark cottage, of and air, but as tidy and clean as she make it. She was seated her little fire (consisting of a red and a of stick), knitting, with a small at her feet, for the of her friend the cat, who was seated thereon, with her long her paws, and her half-closed on the low, fender.
"Well, Nancy, how are you to-day?"
"Why, middling, Miss, i' myseln—my is no better, but I'm a i' my mind I have been," she, to welcome me with a smile; which I was to see, for Nancy had been with religious melancholy. I her upon the change. She that it was a great blessing, and herself "right for it"; adding, "If it God to my sight, and make me so as I can read my Bible again, I think I shall be as happy as a queen."
"I He will, Nancy," I; "and, meantime, I'll come and read to you now and then, when I have a little time to spare."
With of pleasure, the woman moved to me a chair; but, as I saved her the trouble, she herself with the fire, and adding a more to the embers; and then, taking her well-used Bible from the shelf, it carefully, and gave it me. On my if there was any particular part she should like me to read, she answered—
"Well, Miss Grey, if it's all the same to you, I should like to that chapter in the First Epistle of St. John, that says, ‘God is love, and he that in love in God, and God in him.'"
With a little searching, I these in the fourth chapter. When I came to the seventh she me, and, with needless for such a liberty, me to read it very slowly, that she might take it all in, and on every word; I would her, as she was but a "simple body."
"The person," I replied, "might think over each of these for an hour, and be all the for it; and I would read them slowly than not."
Accordingly, I the chapter as slowly as need be, and at the same time as as I could; my most all the while, and thanked me when I had done. I sat still about a minute to give her time to upon it; when, to my surprise, she the pause by me how I liked Mr. Weston?
"I don't know," I replied, a little by the of the question; "I think he very well."
"Ay, he so; and talks well too."
"Does he?"
"He does. Maybe, you haven't him—not to talk to him much, yet?"
"No, I see any one to talk to—except the ladies of the Hall."
"Ah; they're nice, ladies; but they can't talk as he does."
"Then he comes to see you, Nancy?"
"He does, Miss; and I'se for it. He comes to see all us a Maister Bligh, or th' Rector did; an' it's well he does, for he's always welcome: we can't say as much for th' Rector—there is "at says they're on him. When he comes into a house, they say he's sure to wrong, and a-calling 'em as soon as he th' doorstuns: but maybe he thinks it his like to tell 'em what's wrong. And very he comes o' purpose to for not to church, or not an' when other does, or going to the Methody chapel, or o' that sort: but I can't say 'at he fund much fault wi' me. He came to see me once or twice, Maister Weston come, when I was so in my mind; and as I had only very health besides, I to send for him—and he came right enough. I was distressed, Miss Grey—thank God, it's now—but when I took my Bible, I no of it at all. That very chapter "at you've just been reading me as much as aught—‘He that not, not God.' It to me; for I that I loved neither God man as I should do, and not, if I so. And th' chapter afore, where it says,—‘He that is of God cannot sin.' And another place where it says,—‘Love is the of the Law.' And many, many others, Miss: I should you out, if I was to tell them all. But all to me, and to me "at I was not in the right way; and as I not how to into it, I sent our Bill to Maister Hatfield to be as as look in on me some day and when he came, I him all my troubles."
"And what did he say, Nancy?"
"Why, Miss, he to me. I might be mista'en—but he like gave a of a whistle, and I saw a of a on his face; and he said, ‘Oh, it's all stuff! You've been among the Methodists, my good woman.' But I him I'd been near the Methodies. And then he said,—‘Well,' says he, ‘you must come to church, where you'll the Scriptures properly explained, of over your Bible at home.'
"But I him I always used to church when I had my health; but this very cold winter weather I so far—and me so wi' th' and all.
"But he says, ‘It'll do your good to to church: there's nothing like for the rheumatiz. You can walk about the house well enough; why can't you walk to church? The is,' says he, ‘you're too of your ease. It's always easy to for one's duty.'
"But then, you know, Miss Grey, it wasn't so. However, I him I'd try. ‘But please, sir,' says I, ‘if I do go to church, what the shall I be? I want to have my out, and to that they are no more against me, and that the love of God is in my heart; and if I can no good by reading my Bible an' saying my prayers at home, what good shall I by going to church?'"
"‘The church,' says he, ‘is the place by God for His worship. It's your to go there as often as you can. If you want comfort, you must it in the path of duty,'—an' a more he said, but I cannot all his words. However, it all came to this, that I was to come to church as as I could, and my prayer-book with me, an' read up all the after the clerk, an' stand, an' kneel, an' sit, an' do all as I should, and take the Lord's Supper at every opportunity, an' his sermons, and Maister Bligh's, an' it 'ud be all right: if I on doing my duty, I should a at last.
"‘But if you no that way,' says he, ‘it's all up.'
"‘Then, sir,' says I, ‘should you think I'm a reprobate?'
"‘Why,' says he—he says, ‘if you do your best to to and can't manage it, you must be one of those that to enter in at the gate and shall not be able.'
"An' then he asked me if I'd any of the ladies o' th' Hall about that mornin'; so I him where I had the go on th' Moss Lane;—an' he my cat right across th' floor, an' after 'em as as a lark: but I was very sad. That last word o' his into my heart, an' there like a o' lead, till I was to it.
"Howsever, I his advice: I he meant it all for th' best, though he had a way with him. But you know, Miss, he's rich an' young, and such like cannot right the of a old woman such as me. But, howsever, I did my best to do all as he me—but maybe I'm you, Miss, wi' my chatter."
"Oh, no, Nancy! Go on, and tell me all."
"Well, my got better—I know not wi' going to church or not, but one Sunday I got this cold i' my eyes. Th' didn't come on all at once like, but by bit—but I wasn't going to tell you about my eyes, I was talking about my trouble o' mind;—and to tell the truth, Miss Grey, I don't think it was by to church—nought to speak on, at least: I like got my health better; but that didn't my soul. I and the ministers, and read an' read at my prayer-book; but it was all like and a cymbal: the I couldn't understand, an' th' prayer-book only to me how I was, that I read such good an' be no for it, and it a an' a beside, of a and a as all good Christians does. It like as all were an' dark to me. And then, them words, ‘Many shall to enter in, and shall not be able.' They like as they up my sperrit.
"But one Sunday, when Maister Hatfield gave out about the sacrament, I noticed where he said, ‘If there be any of you that cannot his own conscience, but or counsel, let him come to me, or some other and learned minister of God's word, and open his grief!' So next Sunday morning, service, I just looked into the vestry, an' a-talking to th' Rector again. I fashion to take such a liberty, but I when my was at I shouldn't at a trifle. But he said he hadn't time to to me then.
"‘And, indeed,' says he, ‘I've nothing to say to you but what I've said before. Take the sacrament, of course, and go on doing your duty; and if that won't you, nothing will. So don't me any more.'
"So then, I away. But I Maister Weston—Maister Weston was there, Miss—this was his Sunday at Horton, you know, an' he was i' th' in his surplice, helping th' Rector on with his "
"Yes, Nancy."
"And I him ask Maister Hatfield who I was, an' he says, ‘Oh, she's a old fool.'
"And I was very grieved, Miss Grey; but I to my seat, and I to do my as aforetime: but I like got no peace. An' I took the sacrament; but I as though I were and to my own all th' time. So I home, troubled.
"But next day, I'd up—for indeed, Miss, I'd no to an' fettling, an' pots; so I sat me i' th' muck—who should come in but Maister Weston! I started then, an' an' doing; and I he'd a-calling me for my ways, as Maister Hatfield would a' done; but I was mista'en: he only me good-mornin' like, in a way. So I him a chair, an' up th' a bit; but I hadn't th' Rector's words, so says I, ‘I wonder, sir, you should give that trouble, to come so to see a "canting old fool," such as me.'
"He taken at that; but he would me "at the Rector was only in jest; and when that wouldn't do, he says, ‘Well, Nancy, you shouldn't think so much about it: Mr. Hatfield was a little out of just then: you know we're none of us perfect—even Moses spoke with his lips. But now a minute, if you can the time, and tell me all your and fears; and I'll try to remove them.'
"So I sat me him. He was a stranger, you know, Miss Grey, and Maister Hatfield, I believe; and I had him not so pleasant-looking as him, and a crossish, at first, to look at; but he so like—and when th' cat, thing, jumped on to his knee, he only her, and gave a of a smile: so I that was a good sign; for once, when she did so to th' Rector, he her off, like as it might be in and anger, thing. But you can't a cat to know manners like a Christian, you know, Miss Grey."
"No; of not, Nancy. But what did Mr. Weston say then?"
"He said nought; but he to me as an' patient as be, an' a o' about him; so I on, an' him all, just as I've you—an' more too.
"‘Well,' says he, ‘Mr. Hatfield was right in telling you to in doing your duty; but in you to go to church and to the service, and so on, he didn't that was the whole of a Christian's duty: he only you might there learn what more was to be done, and be to take in those exercises, of them a and a burden. And if you had asked him to those that trouble you so much, I think he would have told you, that if many shall to enter in at the gate and shall not be able, it is their own that them; just as a man with a large on his might wish to pass through a narrow doorway, and it to do so unless he would his him. But you, Nancy, I say, have no that you would not aside, if you how?'
"‘Indeed, sir, you speak truth,' said I.
"‘Well,' says he, ‘you know the and great commandment—and the second, which is like it—on which two all the law and the prophets? You say you cannot love God; but it me that if you who and what He is, you cannot help it. He is your father, your best friend: every blessing, good, pleasant, or useful, comes from Him; and evil, you have to hate, to shun, or to fear, comes from Satan—His enemy as well as ours. And for this was God in the flesh, that He might the of the Devil: in one word, God is LOVE; and the more of love we have us, the nearer we are to Him and the more of His we possess.'
"‘Well, sir,' I said, ‘if I can always think on these things, I think I might well love God: but how can I love my neighbours, when they me, and be so and as some on 'em is?'
"‘It may a hard matter,' says he, ‘to love our neighbours, who have so much of what is about them, and so often the that ourselves; but that He them, and He loves them; and him that begat, him that is also. And if God so us, that He gave His only Son to die for us, we ought also to love one another. But if you cannot positive for those who do not for you, you can at least try to do to them as you would they should do you: you can to their and their offences, and to do all the good you can to those about you. And if you to this, Nancy, the very itself will make you love them in some degree—to say nothing of the your would in them, though they might have little else that is good about them. If we love God and wish to Him, let us try to be like Him, to do His work, to for His glory—which is the good of man—to the of His kingdom, which is the peace and of all the world: powerless we may to be, in doing all the good we can through life, the of us may do much it: and let us in love, that He may in us and we in Him. The more we bestow, the more we shall receive, here; and the will be our in when we from our labours.' I believe, Miss, them is his very words, for I've 'em many a time. An' then he took that Bible, an' read here and there, an' 'em as clear as the day: and it like as a new light in on my soul; an' I about my heart, an' only Bill an' all the world ha' been there, an' it all, and wi' me.
"After he was gone, Hannah Rogers, one o' th' neighbours, came in and wanted me to help her to wash. I her I couldn't just then, for I hadn't set on th' for th' dinner, up th' yet. So then she a-calling me for my ways. I was a little at first, but I said nothing to her: I only her like all in a way, 'at I'd had th' new to see me; but I'd done as quick as I could, an' then come an' help her. So then she down; and my like as it her, an' in a we was very good friends. An' so it is, Miss Grey, ‘a soft answer away wrath; but up anger.' It isn't only in them you speak to, but in yourself."
"Very true, Nancy, if we always it."
"Ay, if we could!"
"And did Mr. Weston come to see you again?"
"Yes, many a time; and since my has been so bad, he's sat an' read to me by the half-hour together: but you know, Miss, he has other to see, and other to do—God him! An' that next Sunday he such a sermon! His text was, ‘Come me all ye that and are laden, and I will give you rest,' and them two that follows. You wasn't there, Miss, you was with your friends then—but it me so happy! And I am happy now, thank God! an' I take a pleasure, now, in doing little o' jobs for my neighbours—such as a old 'at's can do; and they take it of me, just as he said. You see, Miss, I'm a pair o' now;—they're for Thomas Jackson: he's a old body, an' we've had many a at threaping, one t'other; an' at times we've sorely. So I I couldn't do him a pair o' warm stockings; an' I've to like him a better, old man, sin' I began. It's out just as Maister Weston said."
"Well, I'm very to see you so happy, Nancy, and so wise: but I must go now; I shall be wanted at the Hall," said I; and her good-bye, I departed, promising to come again when I had time, and nearly as happy as herself.
At another time I to read to a who was in the last stage of consumption. The ladies had been to see him, and somehow a promise of reading had been from them; but it was too much trouble, so they me to do it instead. I went, enough; and there too I was with the of Mr. Weston, from the man and his wife. The told me that he great and from the visits of the new parson, who came to see him, and was "another of man" to Mr. Hatfield; who, the other's at Horton, had now and then paid him a visit; on which occasions he would always upon having the cottage-door open, to admit the fresh air for his own convenience, without how it might the sufferer; and having opened his prayer-book and read over a part of the Service for the Sick, would away again: if he did not to some to the wife, or to make some thoughtless, not to say heartless, observation, calculated to than the of the pair.
"Whereas," said the man, "Maister Weston 'ull pray with me in a different fashion, an' talk to me as as owt; an' read to me too, an' me just like a brother."
"Just for all the world!" his wife; "an' about a three sin', when he how Jem wi' cold, an' what we kept, he if stock of was nearly done. I him it was, an' we was set to more: but you know, mum, I didn't think o' him helping us; but, howsever, he sent us a o' next day; an' we've had good sin': and a great it is, this winter time. But that's his way, Miss Grey: when he comes into a body's house a-seein' folk, he like what they most i' need on; an' if he thinks they can't it therseln, he says about it, but just it for 'em. An' it isn't 'at 'ud do that, 'at has as little as he has: for you know, mum, he's at all to live on but what he fra' th' Rector, an' that's little they say."
I then, with a of exultation, that he had been a by the Miss Murray, he a watch, and not so and fresh as Mr. Hatfield's.
In returning to the Lodge I very happy, and thanked God that I had now something to think about; something to on as a from the monotony, the drudgery, of my present life: for I was lonely. Never, from month to month, from year to year, my of at home, did I see one to I open my heart, or speak my with any of sympathy, or comprehension: one, unless it were Nancy Brown, with I a single moment of social intercourse, or was calculated to me better, wiser, or than before; or who, as as I see, be by mine. My only had been children, and ignorant, wrong-headed girls; from folly, was often a most and prized. But to be restricted to such was a evil, in its and the that were likely to ensue. Never a new idea or came to me from without; and such as rose me were, for the most part, at once, or to or away, they not see the light.
Habitual are to a great over each other's minds and manners. Those are for our eyes, are in our ears, will naturally lead us, against our will, slowly, gradually, imperceptibly, perhaps, to act and speak as they do. I will not to say how this power of extends; but if one man were to pass a dozen years a of savages, unless he had power to them, I question whether, at the close of that period, he would not have become, at least, a himself. And I, as I not make my better, that they would make me worse—would my feelings, habits, capacities, to the level of their own; without, however, to me their and vivacity.
Already, I to my deteriorating, my petrifying, my contracting; and I my very should deadened, my of right and confounded, and all my be sunk, at last, the of such a mode of life. The of earth were around me, and in upon my heaven; and thus it was that Mr. Weston rose at length upon me, appearing like the star in my horizon, to save me from the of darkness; and I that I had now a for that was above me, not beneath. I was to see that all the world was not up of Bloomfields, Murrays, Hatfields, Ashbys, &c.; and that was not a of the imagination. When we a little good and no of a person, it is easy and to more: in short, it is needless to all my thoughts; but Sunday was now a day of to me (I was now almost broken-in to the in the carriage), for I liked to him—and I liked to see him, too; though I he was not handsome, or what is called agreeable, in aspect; but, certainly, he was not ugly.
In he was a little, a very little, above the middle size; the of his would be too square for beauty, but to me it of character; his dark was not curled, like Mr. Hatfield's, but over a white forehead; the eyebrows, I suppose, were too projecting, but from under those dark there an of power, in colour, not large, and deep-set, but brilliant, and full of expression; there was character, too, in the mouth, something that a man of purpose and an thinker; and when he smiled—but I will not speak of that yet, for, at the time I mention, I had him smile: and, indeed, his did not me with the idea of a man to such a relaxation, of such an as the him. I had early my opinion of him; and, in of Miss Murray's objurgations: was that he was a man of sense, faith, and piety, but and stern: and when I that, to his other good qualities, was added that of true and gentle, kindness, the discovery, perhaps, me the more, as I had not been prepared to it.
