A Letter of Credit Part 75

Rotha thought as she laid down Rivaulx and took up Tintern abbey, that there was a good deal to learn. Pier next word was an exclamation.

"O how beautiful, how beautiful! It is just a door, Mrs. Mowbray, belonging to Tintern abbey, a door and some ivy; but it is so pretty! How came so many of these beautiful abbeys and things to be in ruins?"

"Henry the Eighth had the monks driven out and the roofs stripped off.

When you take the roof off a building, the weather gets in, and it goes to ruin very fast."

Henry the Eighth was little more than a name yet to Rotha. "What did he do that for?" she asked.

"I believe he wanted to turn the metal sheathing of the roofs into money.

And he wanted to put down the monastic orders."

"Mrs. Mowbray, this abbey was pretty old before it was made a ruin."

"How do you know?"

"Because, I see it. Only half of the door was accustomed to be opened; and the stone before the door on that side is ever so much worn away. So many feet had gone in and out there."

Mrs. Mowbray took the gla.s.s to look. "I never noticed that before," she said.

So went the days of the vacation, pleasantly and sweetly after that.

Rotha enjoyed herself hugely. She had free access to the library, which was rich in engravings and ill.u.s.trations, and in best works of reference upon every subject that she could wish to look into. Sometimes she went driving with Mrs. Mowbray. Morning, evening, and day were all pleasant to her; the leisure was busily filled up, and the time fruitful. With the other young ladies remaining in the house for the holidays, she had little to do; little beyond what courtesy demanded. Their pleasures and pursuits were so diverse from her own that there could be little fellows.h.i.+p. One was much taken up with shopping and visits to her mantua- maker; several were engrossed with fancy work; some went out a great deal; all had an air of dawdling. They fell away from Rotha, quite naturally; all the more that she was getting the name of being a favourite of Mrs. Mowbray's. But Rotha as naturally fell away from them.

None of them cared for the stereoscope, or shared in the least her pleasure in the lines and mouldings and proportions of glorious architecture. And Rotha herself could not have talked of lines or mouldings; she only knew that she found delight; she did not know why.

CHAPTER XXI.

EDUCATION.

"My dear," said Mrs. Mowbray, the last day of December, "would you like to have the little end room?"

Rotha looked up. "Where Miss Jewett sleeps?"

"That room. I am going to place Miss Jewett differently. Would you like to have it?"

"For myself?"--Rotha's eyes brightened.

"It is only big enough for one. You may have it, if you like. And move your things into it to-day, my dear. The young ladies who live in this room will be coming back the day after to-morrow."

With indescribable joy Rotha obeyed this command. The room in question was one cut off from the end of a narrow hall; very small accordingly; there was just s.p.a.ce for a narrow bed, a wardrobe, a little washstand, a small dressing table with drawers, and one chair. But it was privacy and leisure; and Rotha moved her clothes and books and took possession that very day. Mrs. Mowbray looked in, just as she had finished her arrangements.

"Are you going to be comfortable here?" she said. "My dear, I thought, in that other room you would have no chance to study your Bible."

"Thank you, dear Mrs. Mowbray! I am so delighted."

"There is a rule in Miss Manners' school at Meriden, that at the ringing of a bell, morning and evening, each young lady should go to her room to be alone with her Bible for twenty minutes. The house is so arranged that every one can be alone at that time. It is a good rule. I wish I could establish it here; but it would do more harm than it would good in my family. My dear, your aunt has sent word that she wishes to see you."

Rotha's colour suddenly started. "I suppose I know what that means!" she said.

"The stockings?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What are you going to do?"

"O I am going to take them."

"And, my dear," said Mrs. Mowbray, kissing Rotha, "pray for grace to do it _pleasantly_."

Yes, that was something needed, Rotha felt as she went through the streets. Her heart was a little bitter.

She found her aunt's house in a state of preparation; covers off the drawing-room furniture, greens disposed about the walls, servants busy.

Mrs. Busby was in her dressing-room; and there too, on the sofa, in mere wantonness of idleness, for she was not sick, lay Antoinette; a somewhat striking figure, in a dress of white silk, and looking very pretty indeed. Also looking as if she knew it.

"Good morning, Rotha!" she cried. "This is the dress I am to wear to- morrow. I'm trying it on."

"She's very ridiculous," Mrs. Busby remarked, in a smiling tone of complacency.

"What is to be to-morrow?" Rotha inquired pleasantly. The question brought Antoinette up to a sitting posture.

"Why don't you know?" she said. "_Don't_ you know? Mamma, is it possible anybody of Rotha's size shouldn't know what day New Year's is?"

"New Year's! O yes, I remember; people make visits, don't they?"

"Gentlemen; and ladies receive visits. It is the greatest day of all the year, if you have visitors enough. And I eat supper all day long. We have a supper table set, and hot oysters, and ice cream, and coffee, and cake; and I never want any dinner when it comes."

"That is a very foolish way," said her mother. "Did you bring the stockings, Rotha?"

Silently, she could not say anything "pleasantly" at the moment, Rotha delivered her package of stockings neatly put up. Mrs. Busby opened and examined, Antoinette running up to look too.

"Mamma! how ridiculously nice!" she exclaimed. "You never gave me any as good as those."

"No, I should hope not," said her mother. "Here are eleven pair, Rotha."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Were there not twelve?"

"Yes, ma'am. The other pair I have on."

"They are a great deal too thin for this time of year. Here are some thicker I have got for you. Sit down and put a pair of these on, and let me have those."

Every fibre of her nature rebelling, Rotha sat down to unb.u.t.ton her boot.

It was hard to keep silence, to speak "pleasantly" impossible. Tears were near. Rotha bent over her boot and prayed for help. And then the thought came, fragrant and sweet,--I am the servant of Christ; this is an opportunity to obey and please _him_.

And with that she was content. She put on the coa.r.s.e stockings, which felt extremely uncomfortable. But then she could not get her boot on. She tugged at it in vain.

"It is no use," she said at last. "It will not go on, aunt Serena. I cannot wear my boots with these stockings."