East Lynne Part 82

The old familiar drawing-room; its large handsome proportions, the well arranged furniture, its bright chandelier! It all came back to her with a heart-sickness. No longer her drawing-room, that she should take pride in it; she had flung it away from her when she flung away the rest.

Seated under the blaze of the chandelier was Barbara. Not a day older did she look than when Lady Isabel had first seen her at the churchyard gates, when she had inquired of her husband who was that pretty girl.

"Barbara Hare," he answered. Ay. She was Barbara Hare then, but now she was Barbara Carlyle; and she, she, who had been Isabel Carlyle, was Isabel Vane again! Oh, woe! Woe!

Inexpressibly more beautiful, looked Barbara than Lady Isabel had ever seen her--or else she fancied it. Her evening dress was of pale sky- blue--no other color suited Barbara so well, and there was no other she was so fond of--and on her fair neck there was a gold chain, and on her arms were gold bracelets. Her pretty features were attractive as ever; her cheeks were flushed; her blue eyes sparkled, and her light hair was rich and abundant. A contrast, her hair, to that of the worn woman opposite to her.

Barbara came forward, her hand stretched out with a kindly greeting. "I hope you are not very much tired after your journey?"

Lady Isabel murmured something--she did not know what--and pushed the chair set for her as much as possible into the shade.

"You are not ill, are you?" uttered Barbara, noting the intensely pale face--as much as could be seen of it for the cap and the spectacles.

"Not ill," was the low answer; "only a little fatigued."

"Would you prefer that I spoke with you in the morning? You would like, possibly, to retire to bed at once."

But Lady Isabel declined. Better get the interview over by candlelight than by daylight.

"You look so very pale, I feared you might be ill."

"I am generally pale; sometimes remarkably so; but my health is good."

"Mrs. Latimer wrote us word that you would be quite sure to suit us,"

freely spoke Barbara. "I hope you will; and that you may find your residence here agreeable. Have you lived much in England?"

"In the early portion of my life."

"And you have lost your husband and your children? Stay. I beg your pardon if I am making a mistake; I think Mrs. Latimer did mention children."

"I have lost them," was the faint, quiet response.

"Oh, but it must be terrible grief when children die!" exclaimed Barbara, clasping her hands in emotion. "I would not lose my babe for the world! I could not part with him."

"Terrible grief, and hard to bear," outwardly a.s.sented Lady Isabel. But in her heart she was thinking that death was not the worst kind of parting. There was another far more dreadful. Mrs. Carlyle began to speak of the children she was to take charge of.

"You are no doubt aware that they are not mine; Mrs. Latimer would tell you. They are the children of Mr. Carlyle's first wife."

"And Mr. Carlyle's," interrupted Lady Isabel. What in the world made her put in that? She wondered herself the moment the words were out of her mouth. A scarlet streak flushed her cheeks, and she remembered that there must be no speaking upon impulse at East Lynne.

"Mr. Carlyle's, of course," said Barbara, believing Madame Vine had asked the question. "Their position--the girl's in particular--is a sad one, for their mother left them. Oh, it was a shocking business!"

"She is dead, I hear," said Lady Isabel hoping to turn the immediate point of conversation. Mrs. Carlyle, however, continued as though she had not heard her.

"Mr. Carlyle married Lady Isabel Vane, the late Lord Mount Severn's daughter. She was attractive and beautiful, but I do not fancy she cared very much for her husband. However that may have been, she ran away from him."

"It was very sad," observed Lady Isabel, feeling that she was expected to say something. Besides, she had her role to play.

"Sad? It was wicked--it was infamous!" returned Mrs. Carlyle, giving way to some excitement. "Of all men living, of all husbands, Mr. Carlyle least deserved such a requital. You will say so when you come to know.

And the affair altogether was a mystery; for it never was observed or suspected by any one that Lady Isabel entertained a liking for another.

It was Francis Levison she eloped with--Sir Francis he is now. He had been staying at East Lynne, but no one detected any undue intimacy between them, not even Mr. Carlyle. To him, as others, her conduct must always remain a mystery."

Madame appeared to be occupied with her spectacles, setting them straight. Barbara continued,--

"Of course the disgrace is reflected on the children, and always will be; the shame of having a divorced mother--"

"Is she not dead?" interrupted Lady Isabel.

"She is dead--oh, yes. But they will not be the less pointed at, the girl especially, as I say. They allude to their mother now and then in conversation, Wilson tells me; but I would recommend you, Madame Vine, not to encourage them in that. They had better forget her."

"Mr. Carlyle would naturally wish them to do so."

"Most certainly. There is little doubt that Mr. Carlyle would blot out the recollection of her, were it possible. But unfortunately she was the children's mother, and, for that, there's no help. I trust you will be able to instill principles into the little girl which will keep her from a like fate."

"I will try," answered Lady Isabel, with more fervor than she had yet spoken. "Do you have the children much with you, may I inquire?"

"No. I never was fond of being troubled with children. When my own grow up into childhood I shall deem the nursery and the schoolroom the fitter place for them. What I trust I shall never give up to another, will be the training of my children," pursued Barbara. "Let the offices properly pertaining to a nurse be performed by the nurse--of course, taking care that she is thoroughly to be depended on. Let her have the trouble of the children, their noise, their romping; in short, let the nursery be her place, and the children's. But I hope that I shall never fail to gather my children round me daily, at stated and convenient periods, for higher purposes; to instill into them Christian and moral duties; to strive to teach them how best to fulfil the obligations of life. This is a mother's task--as I understand the question--let her do this work well, and the nurse can attend to the rest. A child should never hear aught from his mother's lips but persuasive gentleness; and this becomes impossible if she is very much with her children."

Lady Isabel silently a.s.sented. Mrs. Carlyle's views were correct ones.

"When I first came to East Lynne I found Miss Manning, the governess, was doing everything necessary for Mr. Carlyle's children in the way of the training that I speak of," resumed Barbara. "She had them with her for a short period every morning, even the little one; I saw that it was all right, therefore did not interfere. Since she left--it is nearly a month now--I have taken them myself. We were sorry to part with Miss Manning; she suited very well. But she has been long engaged, it turns out, to an officer in the navy, and now they are to be married. You will have the entire charge of the little girl; she will be your companion out of school hours; did you understand that?"

"I am quite ready and willing to undertake it," said Lady Isabel, her heart fluttering. "Are the children well? Do they enjoy good health?"

"Quite so. They had the measles in the spring, and the illness left a cough upon William, the eldest boy. Mr. Wainwright says he will outgrow it."

"He has it still, then?"

"At night and morning. They went last week to spend the day with Miss Carlyle, and were a little late in returning home. It was foggy, and the boy coughed dreadfully after he came in. Mr. Carlyle was so concerned that he left the dinner table and went up to the nursery; he gave Joyce strict orders that the child should never again be out in the evening so long as the cough was upon him. We had never heard him cough like that."

"Do you fear consumption?" asked Lady Isabel, in a low tone.

"I do not fear that, or any other incurable disease for them," answered Barbara. "I think, with Mr. Wainwright, that time will remove the cough.

The children come of a healthy stock on the father's side; and I have no reason to think they do not on their mother's. She died young you will say. Ay, but she did not die of disease; her death was the result of accident. Mrs. Latimer wrote us word you were of gentle birth and breeding," she continued, changing the subject of conversation. "I am sure you will excuse my speaking of these particulars," Barbara added, in a tone of apology, "but this is our first interview--our preliminary interview, it may in a measure be called, for we could not say much by letter."

"I was born and reared a gentlewoman," answered Lady Isabel.

"Yes, I am sure of it; there is no mistaking the tone of a gentlewoman,"

said Barbara. "How sad it is when pecuniary reverses fall upon us! I dare say you never thought to go out as a governess."

A half smile positively crossed her lips. She think to go out as a governess!--the Earl of Mount Severn's only child! "Oh, no, never," she said, in reply.

"Your husband, I fear, could not leave you well off. Mrs. Latimer said something to that effect."

"When I lost him, I lost all," was the answer. And Mrs. Carlyle was struck with the wailing pain betrayed in the tone. At that moment a maid entered.

"Nurse says the baby is undressed, and quite ready for you ma'am," she said, addressing her mistress.

Mrs. Carlyle rose, but hesitated as she was moving away.