Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX

TILDEN FOUNDATIONS

[graphic][ocr errors][merged small]

CHAPTER IV.

MOTHER AND SON.

THE HOLY HOMES.*

BY SILVERPEN.

MRS. LOXWOOD took her way homewards greatly pleased by her interview with Mr. Wroxeter. As the steamer glided quietly up the river on its way to Chelsea, and the evening sun fell serenely on the water and flitting landscape, a peace was hers, such as can alone arise in connexion with high prinIciples, that is, when some vantage ground is gained for them, or the realization of some effective point foreseen. She needed such peace, for it was rarely hers.

Landing, she made her way to one of those small streets which occupy a portion of what was once the site of Sir Thomas More's garden. Here, knocking at a small but respectable looking house, she was admitted by an elderly woman-servant, whose bronzed face told of long residence in a hotter climate than that of England. It was not a lodging-house by the air of comfort and cleanliness visible, and as the old servant led the way into a pleasant back parlour, where tea was set ready, and where the open window looked out into a little garden, "home" was plainly bespoken. The widow sank into a chair by the window, for the heat was oppressive, and turned a face full of cheerfulness to her servant, by whom it was eagerly read.

"You've had good luck, I'm sure, ma'am," said Becky, with that respectful familiarity which long service begets; "for I read it in your face. So it's quite a lucky afternoon, we've had pleasant things happening too." Mrs. Loxwood raised up her face hastily and inquiringly.

"I can't tell you exactly what they are, ma'am," she continued; "but Mr. Cyrus as well as the major seem pleased, each in his own way. They will tell you, I dare say, though the major is going off somewhere, as he has already dined, is packing his carpetbag, and says that he shall take tea with you,"

"Make tea then, Becky, whilst I step up to Cyrus." So saying, Mrs. Loxwood went up-stairs to the upper floor of the house,

* Continued from page 74.

VOL. VIII. N. S.

staying by the way for a few minutes in her own chamber to take off her walking-dress. Whilst effecting this, she could hear her excellent lodger, and old friend, Major Ball, whistling in an under breath snatches of tunes; so by this she knew he was pleased, for it was a never-failing sign.

Since she had occupied the house, the garret-floor, consisting of one large room with two windows, had been devoted to the use of her son. Here he carried on his various pursuits undisturbed, save by the presence of his mother, and even by this less frequently than might have been expected; for the moral relation, if I may so express it, between them was a singular one. Thus, whilst he deferred to her opinion on many points, and whilst her own strength of intellect added, as it were, strength to his, she more often stood in awe of the power before her, and left it reverentially to its working and its own supremacy. In this way she never entered that room without pausing on the threshold to see if she interrupted or not, and if the mood was more abstract than ordinary, or the glance cast towards her abrupt and austere, she reverently withdrew, as a worshipper from some solemn temple. On the other hand, she was not one of those doating mothers whose love is expressed in trifles of the smallest and most puerile kind; but her affection flowed rather onward in a channel too deep to show itself, except on occasions of rare occurrence. But Becky, his old nurse, made up in this respect the sum of care and affection bestowed upon the young man.

Entering the room with her usual gentleness, Mrs. Loxwood found her son sitting quietly, lost in thought; but he heard her, looked towards her with a smile, and bid her come in. She obeyed, and going towards him, rested her hand upon his shoulder.

"A thought has struck me this afternoon," he said, "which, if some practical difficulties annexed to it can be worked out, will go far to solve one of the leading questions connected with the house-accommodation of great cities; namely, how far the absolute physical necessity of air and exercise, especially for children, can be met under circumstances of restricted space.

K

I

think I see the ultimate solution-though by minds of the present day the idea will be smiled at as visionary, as all advances and true solutions at first are. But I will tell you no more at present than this, that my boyish visions, as to what you read to me about the gardens of Babylon, shall be, relatively, no fable."

"I see what you propose," she answered quickly, "that if advances in iron architecture and chemical knowledge do away with the creation of smoke, and hence with the necessity of chimneys, it would leave the roofs of houses free for use as terraces and gardens."

"Yes! this is somewhat the idea, with this contingent, that such be so raised above the roof itself by architectural supports in keeping with the style employed, as to allow of ventilation, and the free ingress of a due amount of sunlight, whilst at the same time gutters in the floor of the terrace, or garden, carries off all drainage and undue moisture. But the thought is as yet crude; in a few days, when I have made some drawings, and worked out the idea more thoroughly, I will tell you further. Premising thus much, that in advances of this class, the potter's and cement-maker's separate arts, will find new and unexpected requisition. Making good in this case, as in so many others, the great truth I hold, that the solution of countless social difficulties, will be found in the synthesis of many converging principles, and not in the action of separate ameliorations, however excellent. Too long have great truths and principles been sought for and used analytically; now the time is come for combination."

"I think so. Apropos of progress, my calls of to-day have been unusually successful.

At a firm in Wimpole Street, that of Newbud and Stopp, the rich decorators and upholsterers, I found the senior partner, and his sister, a most charming old lady, take great interest in your plans. The old gentleman went so far as to say, that if he could be really brought to believe that the evils of middle and low class house accommodation in London, were as great as represented, none more gladly than he, would be part in any feasible scheme which tended towards improvement. But the evils he thought were over-stated. To this latter conclusion, I think, he was led by his partner, Mr. Stopp, who coming unexpectedly into the counting-house whilst Mr. Newbud

and his sister were examining the plans, 'pooh, pooh'd' at them, shrugged his shoulders, and said that the evils complained of were in reality mere trifles, incident to any large amount of population confined in a circumscribed space. This opinion, delivered very oracularly, settled, as it were, the matter for the time, for Mr. Newbud seems to hold a high estimate of the practical part of his partner's character. But as I am going again, by the old lady's special invitation, to take tea with her and her brother, I may be able to state the whole question more fully, and this without fear of Mr. Stopp's balance in its disfavour. Particularly as the old lady quite agreed with me in thinking that the evils complained of exist, and that remedies on a large and effective scale should and ought to be found."

"Yes, woman's domestic life leads her more quickly to a perception of these evils than men. As to Mr. Newbud, he belongs most likely to that very numerous class of Englishmen, who are always persistently blind to the existence of an evil, and the probability of consequences, till the last start up in their path, and experience makes them their own. Indeed, this peculiarity is a national as well as an individual one. It affects our governing, commercial, and other public processes, as well as circumstances connected with private and domestic life. Mr. Newbud may remain therefore unconvinced, unless indeed some apposite case occur within his knowledge, and the facts be thus brought home."

"Such a thing may be. His sister told me that the firm employed a great number of highly skilled workmen. For the next fortune of the day, it was better still. Introduced by the letter procured by our good old friend the major from his bankers, I called upon Mr. Wroxeter, the well-known merchant, and had a most pleasant interview. He listened to your various plans with great interest, asked many questions, and ended by inviting you to his house to dinner next Tuesday, where you will meet M. Louvain, the celebrated Belgian professor, and Mr. Danehill, the Shropshire ironmaster. I am the bearer of this invitation, and need not say how gratified I am."

"Indeed! well I am glad of this. Mr. Danehill is one whom I have long wished to see. More than this, he is, I think, intimately acquainted with Treeford, the Staffordshire

potter, who has been making such advances in respect to terra-cotta tiling, and other adaptations of the potter's art to building purposes. This therefore makes the invitation very valuable, as it may lead to future results."

"I hope so. Now what goods news is this Becky hints at ?"

"Oh, Becky magnifies everything. It is nothing further than that I have at last got a clue to the man who is likely to help me in the specimen of casting I require. So after tea I shall set off in quest of him."

"Fortunately, then, tea is ready, and you will have ample time. For it seems the major is going somewhere out of town; I suppose to Rochester, for I know he has been expecting a letter from his old friend, Canon Maydew, and it may have come."

So saying, Mrs. Loxwood looked round the pleasant room, for its two windows and the bright evening sunlight shining through them, gave it a cheerful aspect, and then led the way down-stairs. On the landing, by the major's room, she stopped abruptly.

"Whilst passing out of Mr. Wroxeter's office," she said, "I saw something that will live in my memory for years. It was the face of a girl of about twelve years old, of such rare, yet truly child-like beauty, as to render its disregard impossible. She seemed to be with her parents, and from the fresh, rustic look of the little party, they were probably newly come from the country, and there to see some clerk or servant in Mr. Wroxeter's employ. But whether or not, the child's beauty and the golden hue of her nut-brown hair were more exquisite than anything I have ever seen, except in Raphael's pictures."

Mrs. Loxwood then went downwards into the little sitting-room, where the major, having preceded her, was now seated at the teatable, with a line of jam and marmalade pots before him, whilst on a chair at either side sat purring a couple of favourite cats and an old dog, which, resting its chin on the table, patiently waited for such stray bits as its master might afford. In person, the major was thin, middle-sized, and bilious-looking. His age might be guessed at sixty-five, though he was probably five or six years younger, a very lengthened military service in the hottest parts of India having given him the bronzed and withered look which is so easily mistaken for that of years. Moreover, he increased this effect by the

assumption of a grave and sententious manner, as though willing to convince others that he was a cold-hearted, worldly man. But this few would have believed after one glance into the major's kindly face, or into his clear, grey eye, that rather betrayed than concealed the exquisite goodness of his nature. The real truth was, that Major Ball had only of late years adopted this manner; but this with such perseverance that it was now confirmed into habit. It had been assumed for the sake of Cyrus, whose godfather he was. "My boy," as the kindly gentleman loved to call him, "has a great deal too much enthusiasm and silly nonsense of that sort, and unless I, his godfather, Thomas Ball, do not sober it down, it will spoil his way in the world. So I'll check it and be a Mentor." Whereupon Major Ball-Cyrus Loxwood being at that time about fifteen— had commenced what he called " throwing cold water upon a house ready to take fire," that was, by checking in every possible way, the boy's inordinate thirst for knowledge, particularly of a scientific kind, and by lending ear to no reports of progress, or by encouraging any topics of conversation that bore reference to his godson's peculiar tastes. At first, Mrs. Loxwood had been much hurt at this new developed humour in her old friend, but as time wore on she became reconciled to it, as well as grew to perceive the truth. She saw that the major loved her boy, was really proud of his great talents, and would assist in every possible way, so that it were done secretly, any circumstance or purpose that might tend to his benefit. Mrs. Loxwood judged rightly. Under all his assumed eccentricity and coldness, the old Indian major's heart yearned towards Cyrus. Years before he had promised the dying surgeon to be a true friend to his widow and her little son. He had been this. But he had seen in the great battle of life, that the enthusiasts are those who are trampled down, at least in a worldly sense, and that the more noble the cause they advocate, the less likely are they to gather those ephemeral glories that win the observance of all common lookers-on. So he had thought it part of his duty to check the boy's burning enthusiasm, and to ridicule the strength with which the mother upheld her son, vainly, as he saw, though still he persevered; slackening rein, however, as the boy became a man. Covertly, beneath this shadow, his benevolence worked. He was not a rich man, though he had some

« VorigeDoorgaan »