Books: The Pillars of the House, V1

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Pillars of the House, V1

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And, Papa,' blurted out Felix suddenly, 'would you _please_ be
photographed. I have the money for it. _Pray--_'

Mr. Underwood smiled. 'Very well, Felix; that is, if I am ever
capable of getting up all the stairs to Coleman's sky-parlour.

'Oh, thank you!' and Felix ran away.

Mr. Froggatt came in due time. He was an elderly portly man, well
shaven and smooth-faced, intensely respectable, having been brought
up to inherit an old hereditary business as bookseller, stationer,
and publisher of a weekly local paper, long before Bexley had broken
out into its present burning fever of furnaces. He was a very good
religious man, as Mr. Underwood well knew, having been his great
comforter through several family troubles, which had left him and his
wife alone with one surviving and woefully spoilt son, who hated the
trade, and had set his heart upon being a farmer--chiefly with a view
to hunting. Mr. Froggatt was conscious of having been too indulgent,
but the mother and son were against him; and the superior tone of
education that the son had received at the reformed grammar school
had only set him above the business, instead of, as had been
intended, rendering him more useful in it.

Good Mr. Froggatt, an old-fashioned tradesman, with a profound
feeling for a real gentleman, was a good deal shocked at receiving
Mr. Underwood's message. He kept a reading-room, and was on terms of
a certain intimacy with its frequenters, such as had quite warranted
his first requests for Felix's good-natured help, and it had been
really as a sort of jesting compliment that he had told the young
gentleman that he wished he would take Smith's place, little
expecting to see how earnestly the words were caught up, how the boy
asked whether he really meant it, and when, on further consideration,
he allowed that it might be possible, begging him to wait till his
father could be spoken to.

Poor as he was, Mr. Underwood had never lost general respect.
Something there was in his fine presence and gentlemanly demeanour,
and still more in his showing no false shame, making no pretensions,
and never having a debt. Doctors' bills had pressed him heavily, but
he had sacrificed part of his small capital rather than not pay his
way; and thus no one guessed at the straits of the household. Mr.
Froggatt had never supposed he would entertain for a moment the idea
of letting his eldest son, a fine clever and studious lad, undertake
a little country business, and yet the old bookseller had come to
wish it very much on his own account. As he explained to Mr.
Underwood, he loved his old business, and knew that with more
education he should have been able to make more of it. His elder son
had died just as intelligence and energy were opening up plans that
would have made both the shop and the newspaper valuable and
beneficial; while Charles's desertion left them decline with his
father's declining years, and in danger of being supplanted by some
brisk new light. Felix Underwood was indeed very young, but he had
already proved his power of usefulness, and a very few years would
make him capable of being a right hand to the old man, and he might
in time make a position for himself. Mr. Froggatt would otherwise ere
long be forced by his own infirmity, to dispose of the business at a
disadvantage, and this would, he confessed, go to his heart. Mr.
Underwood felt greatly reconciled to the project. There was real
usefulness in the work, great means of influencing men for good, and
though there would be much of mechanical employment, for which it was
a pity to give up the boy's education, yet it was a stepping stone to
something better, and it gave present and increasing means of
maintenance. There was less temptation in this way of life than in
almost any that could be devised, and it would give Mrs. Underwood
the comfort of a home with him. The great difficulty for the future
was, that Felix was never likely to have capital enough to purchase,
or become partner in the business; but Mr. Froggatt explained that if
he gained experience in the editing of the Pursuivant, he would be
always able to obtain profitable employment, and that it was possible
that he might eventually take the business, and pay an annual sum out
of the profits to the Froggatt family, unless, indeed, something
should turn up which would keep him in his natural station. Such was
the hope lurking in the father's heart, even while he thankfully
closed with the offer; and Felix was put in the way of studying book-
keeping till the New Year, when he was to enter upon his duties and
his salary.

Mr. Audley was greatly troubled. It was with incredulous vivacity
that he inquired of Mr. Underwood if it were indeed true that Felix
had accepted such prospects.

'Quite true.' said Mr. Underwood. 'You need not argue it with me,
Audley; my own mind has said all you could say seven times over.'

'I should not venture on interference; but could you not let me try
to do--something?'

'And welcome, my dear fellow: there are so many to be done for, that
it is well one can do for himself.'

'But Felix--Felix out of them all!'

'As the voice I want to silence has said a thousand times! No; Felix
seems capable of this, and it is not right to withhold him, and throw
his education upon the kind friends who might be helping the other
boys--boys whom I could not trust to fend for themselves and others,
as I can that dear lad.'

'What he might be--'

'Who knows whether he may not be a greater blessing in this work than
in that which we should have chosen for him? He may be a leaven for
good--among the men we have never been able to reach! My dear Audley,
don't be a greater ass about it than I was at first!'

For the young curate really could not speak at first for a rush of
emotion.

'It is not only for Felix's sake,' said he, smiling at last, 'but the
way you take it.'

'And now, I am going to ask you to do something for me,' added Mr.
Underwood. 'I have left this magnificent estate of mine entirely to
my wife, appointing her sole guardian to my children. But I have
begun to think how much has been taken out of her by that shock of
leaving Vale Leston, and by that wonderful resolute patience that--
that I shall never be able to thank her for. I scarcely dare to let
her know that I see it. And when I look on to the winter that is
before her,' he added, much less calmly, 'I think she may not be long
after me. I must add a guardian. Once we had many good friends. We
have them still, I hope, but I cannot lay this on them. Our cousin
Tom Underwood does not seem disposed to notice us, and his care might
not be of the right kind. Our only other relation is Fulbert
Underwood.'

'Who drove you from Vale Leston?'

'Who did what he had every right to do with his own,' said Mr.
Underwood. 'But he is not the style of man to be asked, even if I
could saddle him with the charge. Probably twelve children to bring
up on seven thousand pounds--a problem never put before us at
Cambridge.'

'Do you honour me by--' asked the younger man, much agitated.

'Not by asking you to solve that problem! But let me add your name.
What I want is a guardian, who will not violently break up the home
and disperse the children. I believe Felix will be a competent young
head if he is allowed, and I want you to be an elder brother to him,
and let him act.'

'You cannot give me greater comfort.'

'Only, Audley, this must be on one condition. Never let this
guardianship interfere with any higher work that you may be called
to. If I thought it would bind you down to Bexley, or even to
England, I should refrain from this request as a temptation. Mind,
you are only asked to act in case the children should lose their
mother, and then only to enable Felix to be what I believe he can and
will be. Or, as it may be right to add, if he should fail them, you
will know what to do.'

'I do not think he will.'

'Nor I. But there are ways of failing besides the worst. However, I
do not greatly fear this illness of mine taking root in them. It has
not been in the family before; and I am nearly sure that I know when
I took the infection, four or five years ago, from a poor man in
Smoke-jack Alley, who would let no one lift him but me. They are
healthy young things, all but dear little Cherry, and I hope they
have spirits to keep care from making them otherwise. You will say a
kind word to my little Cherry sometimes, Audley. Poor little woman, I
am afraid it may fall sorely on her, she is of rather too highly
strung a composition, and perhaps I have not acted so much for her
good as my own pleasure, in the companionship we have had together.'

So the will was altered, though without the knowledge of anyone but
Mrs. Underwood and the witnesses; and Mr. Audley felt himself bound
to remonstrate no further against Felix's fate, however much he might
deplore it.

Nobody was so unhappy about it as Edgar. The boy was incredulous at
first, then hotly indignant. Then he got a burnt stick, and after
shutting himself up in his attic for an hour, was found lying on the
floor, before an awful outline on the whitewash.

'What is it, old fellow?' asked Felix. 'What a horrid mess!'

'I see, said Lance. 'It is Friday grinning at the savages.'

'Or a scarecrow on the back of a ditch,' said Felix. 'Come, Ed, tell
us what it is meant for.'

Edgar was impenetrable; but having watched the others out of the
house, he dragged Geraldine up to see--something--

'Oh!' she cried. 'You've done it!'

'To be sure! You know it?'

'It is Achilles on the rampart, shouting at the Trojans! O Edgar--how
brave he looks--how his hair flies! Some day you will get him in his
god-like beauty!'

'Do you think he has not got any of it, Cherry?' said Edgar, gazing
wistfully. 'I did see it all, but it didn't come out--and now--'

'I see what you mean,' said Cherry, screwing up her eyes; 'it is in
him to be glorious--a kind of lightning look.'

'Yes, yes; that's what I meant. All majesty and wrath, but no strain.
O Cherry--to have such things in my head, and not get them out! Don't
you know what it is?' as he rolled and flung himself about.

'Oh, yes!' said Cherry from her heart. 'Oh! I should so like to do
one touch to his face, but he's so big! You did him on a chair, and I
could not stand on one.'

'I'll lift you up. I'll hold you,' cried Edgar.

The passion for drawing must have been very strong in the two
children; for Geraldine was most perilously, and not without pain,
raised to a chair, where, with Edgar's arms round her waist, she
actually worked for ten minutes at Achilles' face, but his arm she
declined. 'It is not right, Eddy! look--that muscle in his elbow can
never be so!'

'I can't see the back of mine, but you can,' said Edgar, lifting her
down, and proceeding to take off his coat and roll up his shirt-
sleeve.

'That's the way. Oh! but it is not such an angle as that.'

'Achilles' muscles must have stood out more than mine, you know. I'll
get a look at Blunderbore's. O Cherry, if I were but older--I know I
could--I'd save Felix from this horrible thing! I feel to want to
roar at old Froggy, like this fellow at the Trojans.'

'Perhaps some day you will save him.'

'Yes; but then he will have done it. Just fancy, Gerald, if that
picture was as it ought to be--as you and I see it!'

'It would be as grand as the world ever saw,' said the little girl,
gazing through her eye-lashes at the dim strokes in the twilight. O
Edgar, many a great man has begun in a garret!'

'If it would not be so long hence! Oh! must you go down!'

'I heard some one calling. You will be a great artist, I know,
Edgar!'

It was pleasanter than the other criticism, at bed-time.

'Hollo! Man Friday does not look quite so frightful!' said Felix.

'I'm sure I won't have him over my bed,' said Fulbert, proceeding to
rub him out; and though, for the moment, Achilles was saved by
violent measures of Edgar's, yet before the end of the next day,
Fulbert and Lance had made him black from head to foot, all but the
whites of his eyes and his teeth; Robina and Angela had peeped in,
and emulated the terror of the Trojans, or the savages; and Sibby had
fallen on the young gentleman for being 'so bold' as to draw a
frightful phooka upon their walls just to frighten the darlints.
Indeed, it was long before Angela could be got past the door at night
without shuddering, although Achilles had been obliterated by every
possible method that Felix, Clement, or Sibby could devise, and some
silent tears of Cherry had bewailed the conclusion of this effort of
high art, the outline of which, in more moderate proportions, was
cherished in that portfolio of hers.

Another work of art--the photograph--was safely accomplished. The
photographer caught at the idea, declaring that he had been so often
asked for Mr. Underwood's carte, that he had often thought of begging
to take it gratis. And he not only insisted on so doing, but he came
down from his studio, and took Mr. Underwood in his own chair, under
his own window--producing a likeness which, at first sight, shocked
every one by its faithful record of the ravages of disease,
unlightened by the fair colouring and lustrous beaming eyes, but
which, by-and-by, grew upon the gazer, as full of a certain majesty
of unearthly beauty of countenance.

The autumn was mild, and Mr. Underwood rallied in some measure, so as
sometimes even to get to church at mid-day services on warm days.

It was on St. Andrew's Day that he was slowly walking home, leaning
on Felix's arm, with the two elder girls close behind him, when Alda
suddenly touched Wilmet's arm, exclaiming, 'There's Marilda
Underwood!'

There indeed was the apparition of Centry Park, riding a pretty pony,
beside a large and heavily-bearded personage. The recognition was
instantaneous; Marilda was speaking to her companion, and at the same
moment he drew up, and exclaiming, 'Edward! bless me!' was off his
horse in a moment, and was wringing those unsubstantial fingers in a
crushing grasp. There was not much to be seen of Mr. Underwood, for
he was muffled up in a scarf to the very eyes, but they looked out of
their hollow caves, clear, blue, and bright, and smiling as ever, and
something like an answer came out of the middle of the folds.

'These yours? How d'ye do'--How d'ye do'--Mary, you don't get off
till we come to the door!--Yes, I'll come in with you! Bless me!
bless me! Mary has been at me ever so many times about you, but we've
been had abroad for masters and trash, and I left it till we were
settled here.'

It was not many steps to the door, and there Wilmet flew on prepare
her mother and the room, while Alda stood by as her cousin was
assisted from her horse by the groom, and the newcomer followed in
silence, while Felix helped his father up the steps, and unwound his
wraps, after which he turned round, and with his own sunny look held
out his hand, saying, 'How are you, Tom? I'm glad to see you--How
d'ye do, Mary Alda? we are old friends.--Call your mother, one of
you.'

The mother was at hand, and they entered the drawing-room, where, as
the clergyman sank back into his arm-chair, the merchant gazed with
increasing consternation at his wasted figure and features.

'How long has this been going on?' he asked, pointing to him and
turning to Mrs. Underwood, but as usual her husband answered for her.

'How long have I been on the sick list? Only since the end of
September, and I am better now than a month ago.'

'Better! Have you had advice?'

'Enough to know how useless it is.'

'Some trumpery Union doctor. I'll have Williams down before you are a
day older.'

'Stay, Tom. Thank you, most warmly, but you see yourself the best
advice in the world could tell us no more than we know already. Are
you really master of old Centry Underwood? I congratulate you.'

'Ay. I'm glad the place should come back to the old name. Mrs.
Underwood and myself both felt it a kind of duty, otherwise it went
against the grain with her, and I'm afraid she'll never take to the
place. 'Twas that kept us abroad so long, though not from want of
wishes from Mary and myself. The girl fell in love with yours at
first sight.'

'To be sure I did,' said the young lady. 'Do let me see the little
ones, and your baby.'

'Take your cousin to see them in the dining-room, Alda,' said the
mother; the order that Alda had been apprehending, for the dining-
room was by many degrees more shabby than the drawing-room; however,
she could only obey, explaining by the way that little Bernard, being
nearly two years old, was hardly regarded as a baby now.

Wilmet was in effect making him and Angela presentable as to the
hands, face, hair, and pinafore, and appeared carrying the one and
leading the other, who never having closely inspected any one in a
riding-habit before, hung back, whispering to know whether 'that man
was a woman.'

Marilda was in raptures, loving nothing so well as small children,
and very seldom enjoying such an opportunity as the present; and the
two babies had almost the whole of the conversation adapted to them,
till Alda made an effort.

'So you have been on the Continent?'

'Oh yes; it was such a horrid bore. Mamma would go. She said I must
have French masters, and more polish, but I don't like French polish.
I hope I'm just as English as I was before.'

'That is undeniable' said Felix, laughing.

'Didn't you care for it? Oh! I should like it so much!' cried Alda.

'Like it? What, to hear French people chattering and gabbling all
round one, and be always scolded for not being like them! There was a
poor dog at the hotel that had been left behind by some English
people, and could not bear the French voices, always snarled at them.
I was just like him, and I got Papa to buy him and bring him home,
and I always call him John Bull.'

'But wasn't it nice seeing places, and churches, and pictures?' asked
Geraldine.

'That was the most disgusting of all, to be bothered with staring at
the stupid things. Mamma with her Murray standing still at them all,
and making me read it out just like a lesson, and write it after,
which was worse! And then the great bare shiny rooms with nothing to
do. The only thing I liked was looking at a jolly little old woman
that sold hot chestnuts out in the street below. Such dear little
children in round caps came to her! Just like that,'--endeavouring to
convert her pocket-handkerchief into the like head-gear for Robina.

'I have always so wanted to come here,' she continued, 'only I am
afraid Mamma won't like the place. She says it's dull, and there's no
good society. Is there?'

'I am sure we don't know,' said Wilmet.

'Lots of people are coming to stay with us for Christmas,' added
Marilda, and you must all of you come and have all the fun with us.'

'Oh, thank you! how charming!' cried Alda. 'If Papa will but be well
enough; he is so much better now.'

'He must come for change of air,' said Marilda. 'You can't think how
pleased my father was to hear I had met you. He talked all the way
home of how clever your father was, and how wickedly Cousin Fulbert
at Vale Leston had served him, and he promised me when I came here I
should have you with me very often. I would have written to tell you,
only I do so hate writing. This is much better.'

Marilda seemed to have perfectly established herself among them
before the summons came to her; and as the children herded to the
door, her father turned round and looked at the boys inquiringly.
'There,' said Mr. Underwood, 'this is Felix, and this is Edgar,
sixteen and fourteen.'

Bless me, what a number, and as much alike as a flock of sheep,'
again exclaimed the cousin. 'One or two more or less would not make
much odds--eh, Edward?--Mary, what kissing all round?--D'ye know them
all?--I'll look in to-morrow or next day, and you'll give me your
answer, Edward.'

They were off, and at Mr. Underwood's sign Felix followed him into
the sitting-room, to the great excitement of the exterior population,
who unanimously accepted Alda's view, that one of them was going to
be adopted. Their notion was not so much out as such speculations
generally are, for Mr. Underwood was no sooner alone with Felix and
his mother, than he said, 'You are in request, Felix; here's another
offer for one of you--the very thing I once missed. What say you to a
clerkship at Kedge Brothers?'

'For one of us, did you say, Father?'

'Yes; the answer I am to give to-morrow is as to which. You have the
first choice.'

'Do you wish me to take it, Father?'

'I wish you to think. Perhaps this is the last time I shall have any
decision to make for you, and I had rather you should make your own
choice; nor, indeed, am I sure of my own wishes.'

'Then,' said Felix decidedly, 'I am sure I had better not. Edgar
would not, and must not, go to my work, there would be nothing coming
in for ever so long, and it would be a shame to throw old Froggy
over.'

'I rather expected this, Felix. I told Tom you were in a manner
provided for, but when he found you had a turn for business, he was
the more anxious to get you.'

'I've got no turn that I know of,' said Felix rather gloomily; 'but
we can't all of us set up for gentlemen, and Edgar is the one of us
all that ought to have the very best! Such a fellow as he is! He is
sure of the prize this time, you know! I only don't think this good
enough for him! He ought to go to the University. And maybe when Mr.
Underwood sees--'

'Not impossible,' said the sanguine father, smiling; 'and, at any
rate, to get put in the way of prosperity early may make his talents
available. It is odd that his first name should be Thomas. Besides, I
do not think your mother could get on without you. And, Felix,' he
lowered his voice,' I believe that this is providential. Not only as
securing his maintenance, but as taking him from Ryder. Some things
have turned up lately when he has been reading with me, that have
dismayed me. Do you know what I mean?'

'A little,' said Felix gravely.

'I know Ryder would be too honourable consciously to meddle with a
boy's faith; but the worst of it is, he does not know what is
meddling, and he likes Edgar, and talks eagerly to him. And the boy
enjoys it.'

'He does,' said Felix, 'but he knows enough to be on his guard. There
can't be any harm done.'

'Not yet! Not but what can be counteracted, if--Felix, you cannot
guess how much easier it makes it to me to go, that Edgar will not be
left in Ryder's hands. As to the younger ones, such things do not
come down to the lower forms. And they will be eligible for clergy
orphans. Audley spoke of a choristership for Clement in the clergy-
house at Whittingtonia. Was there ever such a raising up of friends
and helpers? I am glad to have seen Tom Underwood, hearty, kindly--
sure to be always a good friend to you all. What did you think of the
girl, Felix?'

'She is a jolly sort of girl,' said Felix; 'not like ours, you know,
Father, but not half a bad fellow.'

Mr. Underwood smiled thoughtfully, and asked, 'Have you seen enough
of her to judge how she is brought up?'

It was treating his son so much more as a friend than as a boy, that
Felix looked up surprised. 'I should think her mother wanted to make
her no end of a swell,' he said, 'and that it would not take.'

Mr. Underwood lent back thoughtfully. In truth, his cousin had, in
his outburst of affection and remorse at long unconscious neglect,
declared his intention of taking home one of the girls to be as a
sister to his Mary, and then, evidently bethinking himself of some
influence at home, had half taken back his words, and talked of doing
something, bringing his wife to see about it, etc.

And when Mr. and Mrs. Underwood were again alone, they discussed the
probabilities, and considered whether if the offer were made they
would accept it. Mr. Underwood had only seen his cousin's wife once,
in his prosperous days, when he had been at the wedding, and his
impression was not that of perfect refinement. There was reason to
think from the words of her husband and daughter that there was a
good deal of the nouveau riche about her, and Mrs. Underwood did
not know how to think of trusting a daughter in a worldly, perhaps
irreligious household. But Mr. Underwood was a good deal touched by
his cousin's warmth and regret; he believed that the family kept up
religious habits; he thought that Providence had brought him friends
in this last hour, and his affectionate sanguine spirit would not
hesitate in accepting the kindness that provided for another of the
children he was leaving. She trusted him as sure to know best; and,
after her usual mode, said no more, except 'Wilmet would be safest
there.'

'You could spare her least.'

'Yes, indeed, it would be losing my right hand; but poor Alda--'

Poor Alda! but consider if there is not worse evil in keeping her
among girls who hurt her, if they do not Wilmet. Beauty and wounded
vanity are dangerous in a place like this.'

'Dangerous anywhere!'

'Less so in a great house, with that good honest Mary Alda, and Tom,
who will look after her in the main, than here, or as a governess,
with an inferior education.'