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The opinion of his mother weighed with Luke more than that of his Bishop.
After the sudden suspicion that he had been unconsciously giving way to selfishness in not encouraging Rachel to work, he made up his mind that he must talk the matter over.
"My dear boy," said Mrs. Greville, "Rachel is no more fit to work in a parish than a child of five years old, and particularly in this parish. She has been buried in the country all her life and is absolutely incapable of doing any good till she has had anyhow a little experience."
"But I don't see how she can gain experience without working," said Luke.
"Well if you are so bent on it let her come with me to the mothers' meeting and watch how things are done. In fact she might undertake the reading, that is to say if she reads well."
"I have never heard her read, but no doubt she does. She does everything well," he added laughing.
"In fact she is perfect in your eyes," answered his mother amused at her son's blindness. "Well, let her come to the mothers' meeting to-morrow. She can't anyhow do any harm."
"Harm! No indeed. The mere look of her must do good."
"She is certainly very pretty," was the answer.
And Luke left her in good spirits, quite unconscious that his mother did not agree with his views of his wife, and that when she made the statement that anyhow Rachel could do no harm she did not intend it for a joke.
He was however disappointed that Rachel did not seem to take kindly to the idea of going to the mothers' meeting. To his surprise he had actually seen her face fall at the suggestion.
"Don't go dear if you would rather not," he said quickly, "but I fancied you might be glad of the experience. You are always telling me you want to work in the parish."
"I want to help you," she said, "but I don't see that sitting and watching your mother would be exactly a help either to you or to me." Then suddenly remembering her talk with the Bishop, she added, "But of course it is very kind of your mother to propose it. Perhaps I had better go. I should not like to appear ungrateful to her."
And Luke left her, thinking to himself, "After all I don't believe she wants to do that kind of work. Anyhow, she does not seem very keen about it; we may have been right in not encouraging it before."
Rachel, as she took her place at the table at the mothers' meeting, and opened the book she was given to read, felt nervous. She was quite sure that the mothers were full of curiosity to see how she would conduct herself at this first appearance at their meeting, and she was still more convinced that in her mother-in-law she had a severe critic. She was so nervous that she found herself even wondering how to pronounce some of the words. The book was about Missionary work in India and in places of which she had not heard before. Her mistakes were never passed over but were corrected at once by Mrs. Greville. She felt like a child at school and decided that this was the last time she would ever come to the mothers' meeting so long as Mrs. Greville was present.
But she was determined not to let Luke know how her pride had suffered that afternoon. She laughingly told him that she did not read well enough to be of any good; the words were too long for her to master, and too difficult. Her education, had evidently been neglected and she believed that every one of the women present could have read better than she could. She was so merry about it that Luke took it all as a joke and told her he would have to give her reading lessons.
But when the next week came she thought of the "stepping stones" of which the Bishop had talked, and felt that the remembrance of his words might help her to grow into a noble strong woman worthy of Luke, if she mastered her pride. And after the effort was made she was glad that she had gone. Her mother-in-law was evidently pleased, and thanked her for her help, and Rachel felt inclined to sing. She noticed too that when Mrs. Greville smiled the expression of her face changed, she looked kind and motherly. Rachel felt happier than she had done for some time.
The following week the Confirmation took place. The Bishop was coming to lunch after the Confirmation. Rachel was overjoyed at the prospect.
She was busy the day before making every corner of the house look as pretty as possible, and so imbued Polly with her excitement that she forgot her manners and went singing about the rooms. Rachel was too happy to reprove her. In fact she was quite glad to have someone who seemed almost as excited as herself.
"Polly," she said, "the Bishop must have the best of everything, so our cooking won't do for him. I'm going round to Evesham's to order a veal and ham pie and other things; so if they arrive you will understand that they are all right."
"I shall give him a lunch regardless of expense," she thought, smiling as the remembrance of Mrs. Greville's injunctions to economise crossed her mind. "For once I shall not count the pennies. He shall have a lunch like he used to have at home."
On the counter in the window of the confectioners she saw the exact thing. A small veal and ham pie, the crust of which was baked to a golden brown and the edges of which were frilled. It looked dainty and good. So Rachel made up her mind she would order one to be made exactly like it, and with it were to be sent some rissoles and a jelly.
She thought that possibly she and Polly between them could provide the puddings.
She went home quite satisfied with her purchases and determined, should Mrs. Greville hear of her extravagance, to brave it out. Besides, her mother-in-law was not coming to lunch so there was no need to tremble at the consequences of her morning's shopping. Luke would be quite oblivious as to whether they had boiled mutton or a dainty veal and ham pie. He never made any remark about his food; nor indeed, was he apparently conscious when his wife provided him with something specially nice for a treat.
It was at the early dinner that the bomb fell. "I have asked my mother to lunch to-morrow," said Luke.
"Oh Luke!" For the moment Rachel was off her guard and did not restrain the bitter disappointment that his news gave her. Then seeing a surprised look on her husband's face, she added quickly, "It is such a small room for four big people."
Luke laughed.
"Four big people! I don't think any of us answer to that description. Certainly you don't. I wish you did."
Rachel was too disappointed to be able to laugh.
"I had so hoped that you and I would have him to ourselves," she murmured.
"But it was only natural that we should ask my mother," said Luke. "And you need not worry about the food. She will send round something suitable."
"There will be plenty," said Rachel, a little stiffly.
Luke glanced across the table at his wife. He had never heard her speak in that tone of voice before. What could possibly have upset her, he wondered.
"He was father's greatest friend," continued Rachel, "and I had such a lot to talk to him about. It will just make all the difference having a third person."
"Yes, I can understand that, if it were a stranger, but after all it is only my mother. She need make no difference."
He was just a little surprised at his wife, and could not understand why she should make a trouble of it.
Rachel did not speak. Her heart was hot within her. How blind Luke was! Were all men like him? Surely he must have noticed how impossible it was for her to be her best in his mother's presence, being conscious, as she was, of her critical spirit.
Then she glanced across at her husband. He was looking perplexed and a little worried. And had she not registered a vow that he should never be worried with her smallnesses?
"O well, it does not really matter," she said with a faint laugh. "I am apt to make mountains of molehills I expect. Don't look so grave Luke. Of course you were quite right to ask your mother. She would no doubt have been pained if you had not done so, and it will be all right. As for food there will be plenty. I have been quite reckless on the Bishop's behalf. But you must not blame me for my extravagance."
"He won't expect a spread," said Luke.
"I know. And probably would be quite happy with only bread and cheese. But I love to give him of the best." Her laugh made her husband forget that his news had worried her, and the faint surprise he had experienced disappeared.
In the evening as Luke was out Rachel told Polly to bring in all the silver and she would give it an extra rub.
"Everything must shine as brightly as possible to-morrow Polly," she said.
At nine o'clock there was a ring at the bell, and a man handed in a large basket which Polly brought excitedly into the drawing-room.
"It's from Mrs. Greville, Ma'am," she said. Remembering that Luke had said that his mother was sending in something towards the lunch, Rachel had no doubt that the basket contained her gift.
She lifted the cloth that covered the contents of the basket, and groaned.
It was a pie! but not a dainty pie such as she had ordered. It was large and ungarnished, and might have been intended for a school treat rather than for a dainty luncheon table.
Polly stood looking at her mistress's perturbation with surprise; in her eyes the pie was lovely, and yet as her mistress was not pleased there must be something wrong about it.
"Ain't it good, Ma'am?" she asked anxiously.
"Oh yes, it's good, but oh so much too large and clumsy for our table. Besides I've ordered one, and it is to come early to-morrow morning. You'll see the difference when it comes Polly. I can't think what I am to do. I'm afraid I shall have to go round to Evesham's, late though it is, and counter order mine." Then a sudden determination made her add: "No, I won't, I'll keep to my original plan. This pie will do very nicely for another day. It is of course very kind of Mrs. Greville to send it," she added for Polly's edification.
When Luke came home she said nothing to him about what had happened, and he did not notice that she was not quite in such gay spirits as usual. Mrs. Greville arrived early in the morning next day.
"I thought you might need my help," she said to Rachel who tried to smile a welcome. "Is the silver brightened? And have you remembered to get out the best cloth? I provided one or two extra good ones for such occasions." She was full of excitement and anxious to help.
"Now would you like me to lay the table for you?" she said. "I see you have some flowers. That's right, I wondered if you would think of them."
"Thank you," said Rachel. "I can quite do everything myself. Yes, I know the Bishop is particularly fond of flowers and notices them more than anything else."
"Well, then you can arrange them while I lay the table," said Mrs. Greville drawing off her gloves. "I know where everything is to be found, and you need not pay any attention to me, my dear."
Mrs. Greville in the kindness of her heart was perfectly unconscious that her services were neither required nor wished for, and busied herself about the house. When Rachel, who always felt a puppet in her hands, mildly suggested that it might be better to let Polly arrange the table, as it would disappoint her not to do so, Mrs. Greville remarked:
"The great thing is that it should be laid correctly and Polly will have to get over her disappointment. Perhaps next time she will be able to do it. But this first time it is as well that some one who really knows should undertake it."
Rachel supposed that Mrs. Greville had never entertained a Bishop before, as she was in such a state of excitement over it, and evidently was nervous lest her daughter-in-law should disgrace her and her son. Rachel understood now how her husband could scarcely have helped inviting her to lunch under the circumstances. It would, without doubt, have pained her and disappointed her terribly to have been left out.
But to Rachel it was almost more than she could bear. She had looked forward to a quiet happy time with her father's best friend. To make such a fuss over him was perfectly unnecessary. She wanted to show him her little house, and to assure him that she was trying to follow out his fatherly advice. Now she felt that all was altered.
She saw that even Polly felt the hurrying and exciting influence in the house. The girl was looking worried and disappointed as Mrs. Greville called her hither and thither telling her to do this or that, and not leaving her a moment's peace. Her face was crimson and its expression one full of anxiety. She was no longer enjoying running about at her mistress's behest, and entering into all the pleasure shown by her at the coming of her father's best friend, (for Rachel had informed Polly of many things about her home life that she knew would interest her faithful and devoted little maid), but she was straining every nerve that things should be properly done for the arrival of a very grand gentleman who would notice every little mistake she made.
Besides, what worried the girl was the fact that her own dear Mistress seemed to have lost her good spirits since the early morning. The sun had gone out of her face; and disappointment and chagrin had taken its place.
Mrs. Greville had a very kind heart and if she had had the faintest idea of the disappointment she was giving to her daughter-in-law, she would have put on her gloves and disappeared at once. But she was not sensitive to her environment. Though she noticed that Rachel was graver than usual, she supposed the gravity was caused by anxiety that all should go well, and congratulated herself that she had come in to help so early in the morning, as her daughter-in-law seemed rather helpless and worried.
The more Mrs. Greville bustled about, the more lifeless Rachel became. All her energy had evaporated. She felt there was nothing for her to do as all was being done by her competent mother-in-law.
Even the arranging of the flowers was not left entirely to her. Having placed them gracefully with their long stalks in the flower vase, she put them in the centre of the luncheon table and was admiring them, when Mrs. Greville came into the room, her hands laden with dishes. Putting them on the sideboard she turned and looked critically at Rachel's flowers; then quick as thought lifted them out of the water and breaking their stalks put them again into the vase on the table, pressing them down so that the blossoms might all be even.
"There! they look better so and more tidy," she said, whilst Rachel stood by too astonished and taken by surprise even to expostulate.
But no sooner had Mrs. Greville left the house having done everything to her satisfaction, than Rachel slipped on her hat and ran round to the florist. Even if her mother-in-law had her way in everything else she was determined that her flowers should be an exception. The Bishop should anyhow see something to remind him of her old home, and the flowers were those he particularly loved. They were a fabulous price, but Rachel was reckless.
Happily the pie did not arrive from Evesham's till her mother-in-law had disappeared. Rachel found Polly regretfully contemplating it as it lay on the kitchen table.
"It's such a beauty!" she said to Rachel as she came in. "It's ever so much nicer than the one Mrs. Greville brought. It has such a pretty edge, and is varnished like, and there's a piece of parsley sticking out of the top. The other looks ever so plain by its side."
"Go and fetch the other back from the table Polly," said Rachel. "We'll put this one in its place."
Polly wondered how her mistress dared to do such a thing, and fervently hoped that Mrs. Greville would not scold her too much, but she fetched it gladly with an inward thrill of excitement.
Rachel went to the Confirmation Service in no devout state of mind. She felt out of touch with all good things. She knew she was indulging in wrong and unworthy feelings towards her mother in-law, as she was not blind to the fact that all she did was done in pure kindness, and because she had a false preconceived idea of her daughter-in-law's incapability. It was a case of misunderstanding. But what had happened this morning had made her feel all on edge. However, the sight of the Bishop, the sound of his voice, and still more the Charge he gave to the Confirmation candidates, filled her with a feeling of shame. How badly she was keeping the resolutions she had made at her own Confirmation. How half-heartedly she was fighting the world, the flesh, and the devil; what an unsatisfactory soldier of the King, under whose banner she had promised to fight unto her life's end.
She felt so ashamed of herself and so full of repentance, that she hurried home as fast as she could after the service and told Polly to put Mrs. Greville's pie on the table again. It was more necessary for her to be good and for her mother-in-law to be saved pain, than for the Bishop to partake of a pie with a frilled edge and, as Polly had expressed if, "all varnished like."
Then with an easier mind she was able to welcome her friend and even to smile at Luke's mother. It must be confessed however, that the smile was difficult to maintain, as she could scarcely get in a word edgeways with the Bishop. Her mother-in-law entirely engrossed his attention. Even Luke had to sit and listen, which made Rachel every now and then feel furious.
The Bishop, who was a much more sensitive man than Luke, saw at once that Rachel was feeling tried, and did what he could to turn the conversation in a direction that Mrs. Greville could not participate in for a short time, but before a few words had been exchanged with. Rachel or Luke, Mrs. Greville chimed in and again monopolised his attention. She felt that Luke and Rachel were silent and so did what she could to help to make talk, quite oblivious of the fact that she herself was the cause of their silence. Luke indeed did not notice that Rachel was not talking, or that he himself had very little opportunity of doing so, for he was naturally a silent man, having contracted the habit from having so talkative a mother.
Happily after lunch, Mrs. Greville had to go to some parish engagement so that Rachel and Luke had their chance of a talk; and finally Luke was called off to see someone and Rachel had the Bishop to herself.
The talk did her good, specially as she made him laugh over the matter of the two pies.
"Now that lunch is over," she said laughingly, "I am thankful that I changed them. I believe it would have given my mother-in-law a terrible shock if she had found out that I neither wanted nor liked her pie. And perhaps it would have ended in an estrangement between me and Luke as he would have probably heard of it, and I am quite sure he would never have understood. And fancy! All because of a pie! How silly and small I am."
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"I expect that Gwen has been in one of her naughty moods," said Rachel, as she passed the letter she had received from her mother to Luke when they were at breakfast. "I was the only one who could do anything with her."
"I see that she is coming instead of Sybil."
"Yes, and I am sure that is the reason. I shall love to have her."
"I think I shall be somewhat afraid of that young person," said Luke with a laugh. "She is one of the independent kind I noticed at our wedding."
"She is a darling, and I know you will love her. But I own that at times she is an enfant terrible, one never knows what she is going to say next. One thing, however, we may be sure of, she is absolutely true, and says what she really thinks. You must prepare for the worst," she added, laughing, "and you must overlook her faults. I shall not forgive you if you don't love her. To me she is a most fascinating little thing."
And Gwen arrived the next day. She was a girl of fifteen, tall and slim, not exactly pretty; but there was a charm about her that could not be denied, and Rachel, as she met her at the station, could not help hugging her. She was a bit of home, fresh and sweet; and carried about with her the atmosphere of golden cornfields and scented hedges. Rachel had not seen anything so fresh and full of life since leaving home.
On the other hand Gwen had never seen anything like the darkness and dirt of the town through which she was passing to Rachel's home. She grew silent as they drove through the streets.
Rachel wondered what she was thinking of, and tried to distract her attention by questions about her mother and sister; but only received short answers and in an absent tone of voice.
At last they reached number 8 Wentworth Road.
"Is this it?" asked Gwen incredulously.
"Yes. It is not pretty, but I have tried to make it nice inside; and have quite got to love it," answered Rachel. She was a little distressed at Gwen's tone of voice.
When they had given directions to the cabman to leave the luggage a few doors further up, Rachel took her sister over the house, and they finally settled down by the drawing-room fire, as the evenings were beginning to get chilly; though they had not begun fires, Rachel was bent on having one on the day of Gwen's arrival.
Gwen drew her chair up almost into the fender, and then clasping her hands behind her head said, "Now I will answer your questions properly about home. I really couldn't do so in that awful cab and passing through the town. What a place it is!"
"I suppose it strikes you as very uninviting, but I have got so used to it that I hardly notice its deformities."
"Well it is time that someone should come and spy out the land," said Gwen. "I am sure that Mother has no idea of your surroundings."
Rachel laughed.
"Well don't you go and make the worst of them to her," she said. "I have purposely not enlarged on the subject, as I did not wish to worry her. Besides, she would imagine that I was not happy, which would be very far from the truth. I would far rather live in an ugly dirty town with Luke than in the most beautiful country in the world without him. When you are a little older, Gwen, you will understand that."
"No I shan't. No man in the world would make up to me for the country. I should simply die if I had to live here," she added, looking round the tiny room. "In fact I can't imagine a really unselfish man asking such a sacrifice from the girl he loves best in all the world."
Rachel laughed merrily. Gwen had got on to her favourite theme, the selfishness of men. She was always harping on that subject, Rachel remembered, at Heathland.
"Well, let us leave that and tell me of home," she said, as she was hungering for news. Then she suddenly drew Gwen's chair closer to her.
"You dear little thing," she said, smoothing her hair tenderly. "How glad I am to have you. I'm afraid, however, that you have come because you have been troublesome at home. Is that so?"
"I've come to spy out the land," answered Gwen with a mischievous smile; "and it's high time."
"Don't be silly, tell me about Mother and Sybil."
"Mother is a dear and lovely as ever. I wish I had not made her cry last week. I own I was horrid."
"Oh Gwen! You don't know what it is to be without Mother."
"I'm thankful I don't," said Gwen energetically. "If Mother had seen this place before you married Luke she would never have let you come. By-the-bye, I suppose that funny little creature that opened the door for us is not Polly who you write about?"
"Yes, she is Polly. We are great friends."
"But she is not the only one?"
"Of course she is. Why you don't suppose this tiny house requires more than one servant do you?"
"But that minute specimen cannot do all that is needed by herself."
"Of course not. I help her. Now don't be stupid Gwen; tell me some more about home."
Gwen shut her mouth indicative of intense disapproval for a moment; then she began to talk of Heathland; and Rachel listening, could almost feel the wind blowing over the moors, and see the hedges just touched with hoarfrost in the morning. She pictured her Mother walking about the garden with her pretty soft shady hat which they all thought suited her so well, or lying on the cane sofa in the verandah speaking to the old gardener in her low musical voice. The vision of her was so vivid that the tears rushed into Rachel's eyes, and would have fallen had it not been for Gwen's presence. She was determined that the tiresome child should not have any excuse for supposing she was not as happy as a queen.
It was at supper that Luke met the 'young person' as he called her, and had to confess to himself that he was more alarmed at her than she was of him.
Gwen was afraid of no-one, specially of a mere man, as she had made up her mind that they were a set of selfish human beings who needed to be taught what was really required of them, and that one woman was worth ten men; specially such a woman as Rachel whom she loved devotedly.
In fact the selfishness of Luke had chiefly consisted in her mind in taking her favourite sister away from her. She knew little but that about him, and though she had been sent away from home in order that a change might help her to get rid of her very tiresome mood, she preferred looking upon her visit to Rachel in the light of a spy.
Was Luke worthy of her? Had he made her comfortable? Did he look well after her? These were the questions that she intended answering during her visit, and taking the answer back to her mother and sister.
But she soon found that it would not do to make the object of her visit too plain to Rachel, as the latter showed signs of being vexed; and she might defeat her own plan. So when Luke came in to supper she was on her best behaviour, though at times she could not prevent her lips curling at one or two of his remarks. It seemed to her that he was wrapped up in his own interests and noticed nothing else. She did not realise the immense importance of his interests which were centred in his work.
"We must try and give Gwen a little amusement," said Rachel next morning before her sister arrived for breakfast, "or we shan't keep her with us. Don't you think we could take her to the wood this afternoon?"
He told her by all means to go to Deasely Woods, but that he had work which could not be neglected.
To be in the woods again with Gwen satisfied a longing of Rachel's heart. They left the dullness and dirt of Trowsby behind them, and wandered among the trees, treading on the soft carpet of fallen leaves and inhaling the scent of the damp earth.
"How delicious," Rachel exclaimed.
"Do you often come here?" asked Gwen. She knew what the answer would be.
"No, Luke can't afford the time. You see the calls on his time are endless in such a parish."
"Bother the parish!" said Gwen.
"No, no, you must not say that. I don't think you quite realise that a clergyman's life is quite different to that of other people. You would not approve of a doctor neglecting his patients for pleasure. Well a clergyman is a physician of souls. And after all souls are more important than bodies."
"I don't know anything about souls," said Gwen.
"Of course you do, don't talk nonsense."
"No, I don't. I don't think I am sure that we have souls. But I am not peculiar in this. The papers and books are full of doubts of all sorts."
"But my dear child, why do you read such books? We want to build ourselves up in our most holy faith, and not to read all the views on the other side. How do you see these books?"
"I find them in the library. Sometimes I wish I had not read them, but you know I read everything I can get hold of."
Rachel made up her mind to ask Luke to have a talk with Gwen. She was very distressed at what she told her.
"Luke says that we must not be surprised at all the doubts and strange theories that are about just now, as he believes we are living in the last days and must expect the devil to be extra busy. I am sure he is right."
"Don't let us talk of the last days," said Gwen, "but enjoy the country while we have a chance. You must pine for it in that horrid place."
"I am too busy to think much about it," said Rachel, and she added, "when I do I turn my thoughts to Luke, and feel how much I have to be thankful for in having him."
Gwen laughed a little unbelievingly; and on returning to Trowsby, she felt she could not endure more than a few days in it although her favourite sister lived there. Of course she helped Rachel with the household work, and made fun of it; but she hated it for all that, and could not understand how Rachel could endure it after her life at home. She studied Luke attentively and critically; nothing escaped her, and a day or two before she left, he heard a knock at his study door and on opening it found Gwen facing him.
"I want to talk about something very important," she said.
Luke was in the midst of writing a paper to be read at a clerical meeting, and was sorry to be interrupted; but he invited her in with a smile and drew up a chair for her. She seated herself and then looked up at him gravely. He wondered what was coming. Gwen's expression of face was severe.
"I suppose you know how unwell Rachel is," she began.
"Unwell?" said Luke startled.
"Yes, she is quite different to what she was at home. She has lost all her spirits and looks. Do you mean to say you have not noticed?"
"No, certainly I have not," said Luke. "She is always very bright."
"That's just like a man," said Gwen scornfully. "They never notice when their wives look ill. They are all alike. Rachel is working far too hard, it will wear her out."
Luke rose greatly concerned and leant against the mantle piece looking down at his severe young judge, anxiously.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Perfectly sure. She can't stand this life; having never been used to it. It is all very well for girls who have been taught how to do things. Some of them quite like it. But Rachel has never been taught and it is killing her, slowly."
Luke leant his head on his hand which rested on the mantle piece and fixed sad eyes on the girl. He was too perplexed and worried to speak.
"Rachel positively slaves for you," continued Gwen unmercifully, "but you don't see or notice. Why only the other evening she carried a heavy coal scuttle into the dining-room and you were so deep in your paper that you never saw. You don't see or know half that goes on. But all men are alike. Certainly from all I see of married life I never intend to marry; if I do I am determined to be an old man's darling rather than a young man's slave."
Worried as Luke was, he could not resist a smile, as the thought crossed his mind that Gwen would probably never have the chance of being either. He could not imagine any man falling in love with such an audacious young person. His smile however quickly disappeared as Gwen said:
"I suppose you love her still?"
"Love her!" He grew white and his eyes flashed so fiercely that Gwen for a moment quailed.
"Child, you don't know what you are talking about," he said, and stood looking at her with amazement and anger.
"Well you don't seem to. At home when you were engaged I now and then intercepted glances between you that almost reconciled me to losing my favourite sister, as I was assured by them that she was all the world to you, and that you would take care of her. But now you scarcely seem aware of her presence, and she might be a piece of furniture for all the attention she gets. I can't think how she can bear it."
Had Luke not remembered his calling, and had he not been accustomed to keep himself in check, he would have shaken the girl who had constituted herself as his judge. As it was he went towards his writing table and began arranging his papers, saying:
"I am sorry I cannot spare you any more time. When you are a little older you will understand more of the meaning of love," he added looking at her gravely, "that a man and his wife are so one that it is perfectly unnecessary for them to remind each other of their existence or of their love for one another. Happily for me Rachel understands and absolutely trusts me."
Gwen rose.
"But that does not explain about the coal scuttle business," she said, "I do hope Luke," she added, "that you will take care of her. She has given up everything for you."
Luke held the door open for Gwen politely, and was silent. Then he locked it after her and sitting down by his desk tried to write. But he found this was impossible. He felt all on edge. How dared the child talk as she did; but when his irritation had subsided the remembrance of her words fell like lead on his heart. Was it a fact Rachel had lost her spirits and that Gwen saw a real change in her since her marriage?
He began pacing up and down his study while a terrible anxiety weighed upon his mind. Was she not happy? Did she regret the step she had taken? And the fear that every now and then had attacked him as to the rightfulness of taking her away from her happy home, gained ground.
He could laugh off the ridiculous fuss Gwen had made about the coal scuttle. Of course he had been quite unaware of Rachel carrying the heavy weight across the room. He was able so to concentrate his attention on what he was reading that he seldom noticed what was passing round about him, unless he was trying to solve some difficult problem, when every sound disturbed him. But he was so used to reading while Rachel moved about the room that he had noticed nothing till he remembered Gwen had called out to him, "Luke, don't you see that Rachel is carrying the scuttle?" when he had risen at once, but too late.
That it proved in the very least that he was not careful of her he would not admit for a moment. Neither did he pay any heed to Gwen's ridiculous fancy that because he was not always showing his devotion to his wife by his glances, his affection had waned. These ideas did not trouble him; but the fact that Gwen had noticed Rachel was looking and had lost her spirits was quite another thing, and it worried him exceedingly.
Meanwhile Gwen had gone into the drawing-room where she found Rachel writing home. She turned round at the sound of her entrance.
"What have you been talking to Luke about?" she said a little anxiously. "You have been a long time in the study."
"I have been giving him a lecture," answered Gwen, seating herself on a low chair by the writing table.
"What?" exclaimed Rachel. She could hardly believe she heard aright.
"I have been giving him a lecture," repeated Gwen. "Husbands occasionally need one."
"My dear child what do you mean?" said her sister laying down her pen. "I had hoped you might have been having a nice helpful talk with him."
"Well, I hope it has been helpful to him."
"You sound as if you had been rather impertinent," said Rachel not pleased. "What have you been saying?"
"All husbands are alike," answered Gwen. "They get nice girls to marry them, taking them away from their homes, and no sooner have they got them than they seem to forget their existence. I have been studying husbands lately, that is to say since my friend Mabel married. Men are fearfully selfish."
Rachel looked gravely at her sister.
"Gwen, I advise you to wait to give out your opinions till you are a little older. You really talk like a very silly child. I hope if you have been saying anything impertinent to Luke that you will apologise to him before you are an hour older. I am quite horrified at you."
Rachel's face was flushed, and Gwen saw she was more angry with her than she had ever been in her life. But she was not daunted. Here was her favourite sister, whom she adored, tied for life to a man who was engrossed in his parish and had no time whatever to think of her. She felt boiling with rage.
"I certainly shall not apologise," she said, "it would take away any little good my words may have done. I think I have come to spy out the land none too soon, and that Luke will awake to see that what I have said anyhow has some sense in it, and that he will not let you carry the coal scuttle another time."
Rachel looking at Gwen's earnest and rather anxious face repented that she had been so stern with her. After all she was only an ignorant child. She could not expect an old head on young shoulders; besides, Gwen was always putting her foot into it, talking of things about which she really knew nothing. The family took her sayings for what they were worth and laughed at them. She wished she had not taken her so seriously.
But the fact was, that Rachel was conscious that Luke sometimes surprised her by not doing what he would have done during their courtship. He had been very chivalrous in those days, and more careful of her than was necessary. Now he often let her do things for him which he would in those days have done for her. At times the consciousness of this had a little hurt her; he seemed to have lost, where she was concerned, his old world courtesy. She remembered feeling ashamed when Mrs. Stone had come to tea, that he had let her, his wife, do all the waiting while he sat still and talked. He was so interested in his conversation that he had never noticed it.
But these were such very little things after all, that Rachel had made up her mind not to notice them. However, the fact that Gwen had noticed them made her feel sore and somewhat indignant with her sister. But glancing again at the child who had tears in her eyes at the thought that Rachel was wasted on Luke, anger fled, and an amused smile took its place.
"Oh Gwen dear," she said, "I wish you could see how ridiculous you are. What do all those little things matter when people love one another as Luke and I love? You see you are too young to understand. I really advise you to put away your silly imaginations." She ended up with a laugh.
"Well then," said Gwen, "I will give you advice, rather than Luke. Why don't you teach him what to do?"
Rachel laughed out loud. "Don't be foolish," she said.
"I'm not foolish," said Gwen earnestly. "But I have read, and I think it is probably true, that a woman can make a man what she wants him to be."
"Explain yourself," said Rachel amused.
"I mean that you should teach him to remember that as a husband he is bound to follow your wishes. Tell him, for instance, to fetch the coals for you; to open the door when you have your hands full; and to hand the tea about when you have people. I have noticed that Mrs. Graham, who has one of the best of husbands, does this, and the consequence is that he waits on her as if he were her slave. You know, Rachel, at present you are Luke's slave."
"Well now you have done your lecture," said Rachel good-humouredly, "So we'll go out, and I hope to hear no more of it; but I feel strongly you ought to ask Luke's pardon for what must have struck him as great impertinence."
"I shall do no such thing," said Gwen. "I think you will find that he profits by my words."
But as Luke took her home as usual at night, leaving her at the door of the house in which was her room, having talked to her as if nothing had, happened, Gwen felt rather small. It did not look much as if he had profitted or indeed remembered her lecture. This was decidedly snubbing, but then Gwen was used to being snubbed.
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Rachel was not very sorry to remember that Gwen would be leaving in a few days. She might do a great deal of mischief if she stayed longer with them. Anyhow she would probably make Luke unhappy if she talked to him in the same way as she had spoken to her.
But there was only one part of Gwen's conversation that had effect on Luke, and that was the fear of Rachel's health suffering from the change from the country to the overpopulated town.
When he had left Gwen at the door of her lodging, he hurried home, and after hanging up his hat in the hall, made his way to the drawing-room where he knew he would find Rachel. She was working, but on his entrance looked up, and their eyes meeting, both knew that Gwen was the subject of their thoughts. Rachel was the first to speak.
"I don't know exactly what that silly child has been saying to you," she said, "but I'm afraid she has been very impertinent."
"Well I can't deny that she has said some outrageous things," he said laughing, "but after all she is only a child."
"And you must forgive her," said Rachel. "We never take any notice of what Gwen says. She gets the most ridiculous notions into her head. I hope you are not letting the thought of her worry you."
"A great deal of what she said was sheer nonsense," he answered, "but I own what she hinted about your health distresses me. I only hope it is not true."
"My health? But what did she say? I am perfectly well."
"She has made me so anxious that I want you to go home with her for a few weeks."
"Go home! And leave you behind! No thank you. It would do me no good at all. Besides, I am perfectly well and don't need a change. What a stupid little thing she is; but do look over her folly and try and like her," said Rachel. "She has such good points. For instance, she is perfectly true."
"Possibly," said Luke, smiling; then he added, "I can't say I am exactly enamoured of her."
"No, but when you know her better you will see her virtues. I am afraid she has been really impertinent to you."
Luke did not answer. He leaned forward and looked at Rachel anxiously.
"Are you sure that you are feeling well? Gwen seems to think that you are tired out. Is that the fact?"
"Tired out? What with? I have only this tiny house to see after; in fact I don't think I have enough to do."
Luke sighed a sigh of relief.
"Then I needn't worry?"
"Certainly not. Put it right from your mind. It is only a child's nonsense."
And Luke did as he was asked and worried no more about her.
He left her to write some letters before going to bed, and Rachel sat working; but her thoughts were busy.
Although Gwen had talked a great deal of nonsense was there not a grain of truth in some of her words? "A woman can make a man what she wants him to be," she had said: she had evidently read this in a book, it had not come out of her own little head. Rachel supposed there was some truth in the words; and possibly she had been unwise herself in not insisting more that the attentions that had been shown her during her courtship should not be dropped now that they were man and wife. She was afraid that she had unwisely done things herself instead of asking Luke to do them, and then was surprised that he had lost the habit of waiting upon her. She had got in the way of waiting on him and of saving him all extra effort when he came in from his work in the parish.
She knew that in Luke's case it was often simply absentmindedness that prevented him seeing of what she was in need at the moment. Once buried in a book nothing would arouse him save her voice; or if he was in the midst of an argument with a fellow clergyman, he would quite unconsciously allow Rachel to help them both to tea though it meant rising from her seat. At times she had felt a little indignant at the two men sitting while she served them; but on the other hand if at her request he handed round the hot tea cake, he would stand with the plate in his hand talking, while the contents got cold, or would absently hold the kettle while Rachel watched in anxiety lest the water should pour out on to the carpet, or on to his foot. It was easier to do these things herself. She had not known that anyone notice these little omissions on Luke's part; but evidently Gwen had taken count of them at once.
"A woman can make a man what she wants him to be." Yes, but save in these few insignificant matters Luke was exactly what she wanted him to be, and in these small matters perhaps she had been at fault, not him. Gwen had opened her eyes; though she would not tell her so. Rachel felt that she had made it easy for him to neglect little home courtesies. When the child had gone she would behave somewhat differently.
Gwen came to breakfast next morning just as if nothing had occurred between her and her brother-in-law: and Luke, who had put away the thought of Rachel's health being affected by living in Trowsby, was too large-minded to bear any grudge to the girl for the audacious things she had said to him. He banished them from his mind, recognising the fact that Gwen was after all only a child, and would learn better by-and-bye.
Rachel, however, found her a little trying, as Gwen after breakfast, took her to task about more than one matter.
"You should be the President of a Mutual Improvement Society, Gwen," she said laughing. "You have got terribly into the habit of setting people to rights, or rather trying to do so. You want to go through a course of snubbing, my child. Have you apologised to Luke yet?"
"Certainly not. And you know Rachel I can't help thinking that my lecture has done him good. When I came in I saw him actually pouring the water into the tea pot for you."
Rachel laughed, but she did not inform Gwen that she had begun the training of her husband that morning. And that Luke had risen to it as if it were a matter of course. He was, in fact, perfectly unconscious that he had not always poured the water from the kettle into the teapot for his wife.
"You see I was right after all," continued Gwen. "Men only want to be taught what to do."
"You were a very impertinent little girl," said Rachel. "And Luke felt you to be so, only he is too kind and noble to remind you of it this morning."
"Well I shall remind him of it later on," said Gwen calmly, "as I have a few more home truths to tell him."
"I forbid you to do anything of the sort," said Rachel, really angry now. "You have no idea how ashamed I am of you, nor how much harm you might have done if Luke was not as good and kind as he is."
Gwen, who was helping to clear away the breakfast things, stood still with the plates she was carrying and looked at Rachel.
That the sister to whom she was so devoted could possibly speak to her in such a severe tone of voice when she had been doing all she could, as far as she knew, to help her, went to her heart. She stood still and looked at her with tears in her eyes.
"Are you really ashamed of me?" she asked with a catch in her voice.
"Yes I am. I can't think how you could possibly have spoken impertinently to Luke."
Gwen gave a little sob.
"I didn't mean to be impertinent," she said, "It was only because I love you so much and couldn't bear to find you in this horrid pokey little house and looking ill and tired. I don't see why you should feel ashamed of me when it was all my love that did it," and Gwen laid down the plates to find her handkerchief.
Rachel's tender heart relented.
"Don't cry Gwen dear," she said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I know you didn't mean to do any harm; and as a matter of fact I am sure no harm has been done; but you must remember it does not do to talk over a wife with a husband. It is not wise."
Gwen threw her arms round Rachel promising to ask Luke's pardon for speaking as she did. She assured Rachel she would do anything in the world for her. And she kept her promise. No sooner did she hear Luke open the front door and go up to his study just before dinner, than she ran after him. She was no coward.
"I expect I was impertinent to you yesterday," she said, looking at him straight in the face, "at least Rachel tells me I was. I didn't mean to be; only I meant to tell you the truth and you know husbands do sometimes need the truth to be told them."
Luke laughed heartily.
"Happily," he said, "it was not the truth so it does not signify in the least. I shan't think of it again."
"Oh but it was the truth," said Gwen flushing, "but I don't mean to say anything more about it. I might perhaps have said it more gently and in a more polite manner; and I'm awfully sorry that Rachel is ashamed of me."
Luke fancied he heard a little catch in her voice and looked at her kindly. He could hardly refrain from laughing out loud at her.
"Well you can put it out of your head and not think of it any more. I quite appreciate the fact that it was out of your love and anxiety for Rachel that you spoke as you did, and so we will be good friends again."
Gwen looked down and her lips trembled. "Thank you," she said. "And you will take care of her, won't you."
He patted her on the shoulder and told her to run away as he was busy. And Gwen, having no more to say, obeyed; but she felt rather small.
She resented the pat on her shoulder just as if she were a child. She was not sure that she liked Luke at all.
"I can't think," said Gwen after dinner, as she and her sister were sitting working in the drawing-room, "how it is that you don't show in the least that you do any house work. You look as dainty and as pretty as ever."
Rachel laughed.
"When I began to realise that a great part of my day would be taken up with dusting," she answered, "I bought the prettiest overall I could find."
"You look as if you had just come straight out of the garden and ought to have your hands full of roses." Gwen looked with adoring eyes at her sister, adding:
"But there is a new expression on your face somehow. I think you are really prettier than ever."
"If so it is love that has made me so," said Rachel.
Gwen laughed. "I don't quite believe that," she said.
Rachel smiled to herself, as she thought of the day on which she had bought the overall, and had shown it to her mother-in-law with pride.
Mrs. Greville had looked at it critically, remarking:
"But you need not have gone to the expense of getting such a fanciful thing. You could have got a yard or two of some good strong material and made it up yourself. It would have served your purpose quite as well."
"I don't think so," Rachel answered laughing, "you see I like to be ornamental as well as useful."
"You need not worry about making yourself ornamental," said Mrs. Greville. "What you really want to do is to strive to be useful."
"Oh mayn't I be both? I do believe in beauty. I think our houses and everything we possess should be made as beautiful as possible. It makes life easier and happier." Unconsciously she looked round at the drab walls and ugly furniture.
Rachel would not on any account have complained of either to her mother-in-law; and her glance round had not been meant to imply anything of the sort to her. It had been done before she realised what she was doing or how her look might be interpreted. But by the sudden change in Mrs. Greville's expression of face she recognised what a mistake she had made.
Mrs. Greville had put a great restraint on herself ever since Rachel's arrival, and had been most careful not to show her disappointment in Luke's choice of a wife, to her daughter-in-law.
But Rachel's unappreciative glance round at the walls and furniture hurt her inexpressibly, as she had lain awake many nights planning how she could make the little house as homelike and attractive as possible. She quite thought she had succeeded. Having lived all her life with early Victorian furniture she saw nothing ugly in it; and indeed it struck her as both homelike and comfortable. She had, moreover, spared several pieces of furniture which she had decidedly missed when she had had to turn out into a barely furnished room for the sake of her son's wife. But evidently nothing that she had done for Rachel's comfort was appreciated. The disappointment was so great that she turned a little pale.
"I am sorry Rachel," she said, in a strained tone of voice, "that we were not able to supply you with Sheraton furniture. You see you have changed a luxurious home for a poor one and must bear the consequences. We have to cut our coat according to our cloth. I am sorry that our efforts are so painful to you."
Rachel had flushed crimson.
She was tongue-tied for the moment. She could not tell a lie and say that the furniture, which she had labelled in her mind as hideous, was to her taste. She looked beseechingly at Mrs. Greville.
"I am sorry, my dear, if I have distressed you by my remark," said Mrs. Greville, "but don't try to explain the look you gave at the furniture, I could not possibly mistake its meaning."
Then while Rachel in her confusion and distress murmured her regret, Mrs. Greville looked round the dining-room.
"I think perhaps I ought to have had the walls papered afresh and a lighter colour," she had said. "I daresay it looks a little dull to a young creature like you, and," she added, remorse getting the better of her, "I ought to be grateful to you, for though you don't like my papers you love my son," and Mrs. Greville ended by bestowing a hearty kiss on her son's wife before hurrying away.
Rachel was left standing in the middle of the room with her eyes full of tears. Something about her mother-in-law had touched her for the first time; and she began to wonder if she might not possibly in the future learn to love her. She wondered too how she could ever look her in the face again. She must have seemed so terribly ungrateful and ungracious, not to say ill mannered. But her glance round the room at the walls and its furniture had been quite involuntary, and she had had no intention whatever of letting Mrs. Greville know how she disliked them.
She smiled now as she remembered her mother-in-law's criticism on her pretty overall, but the smile faded as she realised that though she had taken the Bishop's advice and was trying hard not to allow her thoughts to rest on the trials that she had had to meet in her new home, she had not by any means yet succeeded in learning to love her mother-in-law.