Margaret used to tramp along by her father"s side, crushing down thefern with a cruel glee, as she felt it yield under her light foot, and sendup the fragrance peculiar to it,--out on the broad commons into thewarm scented light, seeing multitudes of wild, free, living creatures,revelling in the sunshine, and the herbs and flowers it called forth. Thislife--at least these walks--realised all Margaret"s anticipations. She tooka pride in her forest. Its people were her people. She made heartyfriends with them; learned and delighted in using their peculiar words;took up her freedom amongst them; nursed their babies; talked or readwith slow distinctness to their old people; carried dainty messes to theirsick; resolved before long to teach at the school, where her father wentevery day as to an appointed task, but she was continually tempted offto go and see some individual friend--man, woman, or child--in somecottage in the green shade of the forest. Her out-of-doors life wasperfect. Her in-doors life had its drawbacks. With the healthy shame ofa child, she blamed herself for her keenness of sight, in perceiving thatall was not as it should be there. Her mother--her mother always so kindand tender towards her--seemed now and then so much discontentedwith their situation; thought that the bishop strangely neglected hisepiscopal duties, in not giving Mr. Hale a better living; and almostreproached her husband because he could not bring himself to say thathe wished to leave the parish, and undertake the charge of a larger. Hewould sigh aloud as he answered, that if he could do what he ought inlittle Helstone, he should be thankful; but every day he was moreoverpowered; the world became more bewildering. At each repeatedurgency of his wife, that he would put himself in the way of seekingsome preferment, Margaret saw that her father shrank more and more;and she strove at such times to reconcile her mother to Helstone. Mrs.
Hale said that the near neighbourhood of so many trees affected herhealth; and Margaret would try to tempt her forth on to the beautiful)broad, upland, sun-streaked, cloud-shadowed common; for she was surethat her mother had accustomed herself too much to an in-doors life,seldom extending her walks beyond the church, the school, and theneighbouring cottages. This did good for a time; but when the autumndrew on, and the weather became more changeable, her mother"s idea ofthe unhealthiness of the place increased; and she repined even morefrequently that her husband, who was more learned than Mr. Hume, abetter parish priest than Mr. Houldsworth, should not have met with the preferment that these two former neighbours of theirs had done.
This marring of the peace of home, by long hours of discontent, waswhat Margaret was unprepared for. She knew, and had rather revelled inthe idea, that she should have to give up many luxuries, which had onlybeen troubles and trammels to her freedom in Harley Street. Her keenenjoyment of every sensuous pleasure, was balanced finely, if notoverbalanced, by her conscious pride in being able to do without themall, if need were. But the cloud never comes in that quarter of thehorizon from which we watch for it. There had been slight complaintsand passing regrets on her mother"s part, over some trifle connectedwith Helstone, and her father"s position there, when Margaret had beenspending her holidays at home before; but in the general happiness ofthe recollection of those times, she had forgotten the small details whichwere not so pleasant.
In the latter half of September, the autumnal rains and storms came on,and Margaret was obliged to remain more in the house than she hadhitherto done. Helstone was at some distance from any neighbours oftheir own standard of cultivation.
"It is undoubtedly one of the most out-of-the-way places in England,"
said Mrs. Hale, in one of her plaintive moods. "I can"t help regrettingconstantly that papa has really no one to associate with here; he is sothrown away; seeing no one but farmers and labourers from week"s endto week"s end. If we only lived at the other side of the parish, it wouldbe something; there we should be almost within walking distance of theStansfields; certainly the Gormans would be within a walk."
"Gormans," said Margaret. "Are those the Gormans who made theirfortunes in trade at Southampton? Oh! I"m glad we don"t visit them. Idon"t like shoppy people. I think we are far better off, knowing onlycottagers and labourers, and people without pretence."
"You must not be so fastidious, Margaret, dear!" said her mother,secretly thinking of a young and handsome Mr. Gorman whom she hadonce met at Mr. Hume"s.
"No! I call mine a very comprehensive taste; I like all people whoseoccupations have to do with land; I like soldiers and sailors, and thethree learned professions, as they call them. I"m sure you don"t want meto admire butchers and bakers, and candlestick-makers, do you,mamma?"
"But the Gormans were neither butchers nor bakers, but very respectablecoach-builders."
"Very well. Coach-building is a trade all the same, and I think a muchmore useless one than that of butchers or bakers. Oh! how tired I usedto be of the drives every day in Aunt Shaw"s carriage, and how I longedto walk!"
