Christie Redfern's Troubles Part 39

But they came back again more frequently and pressed more heavily as the winter pa.s.sed away. She put a restraint on herself, as far as Christie and her little brothers were concerned. When she felt unhappy or irritable, she stayed away from the upper nursery. She would not trouble Christie any more with her naughtiness, she said to herself; so at such times she would shut herself in her room, or go out with her mother or Miss Atherton to drive or pay visits, so as to chase her vexing thoughts away. But they always came back again. She grew silent and grave, caring little for her studies or her music, or for any of the thousand employments that usually fill up the time of young people.

Even Clement was permitted to escape from the discipline of lessons to which he had been for some time condemned during at least one of Miss Gertrude's morning hours. She no longer manifested the pride in his progress and in his discipline and obedience which had for some time been a source of amus.e.m.e.nt and interest to the elder members of the family. Master Clement was left to lord it over Martha in the lower nursery as he had not been permitted to do since his mother's visit to the sea-side.

"What ails you, Gertrude?" said Mrs Seaton, one Sabbath afternoon.

"Are you not well? What are you thinking about? I declare, you look as if you had not a friend in the world!"

Gertrude was sitting with her chin leaning on her hand and her eyes fixed on the grey clouds that seemed to press close down on the tops of the snow-laden trees above the lawn. It was already growing dark, and the dreariness of the scene without was reflected on the girl's face.

She started at the sound of her mother's voice.

"I am quite well," she said, coming towards the fire, slightly s.h.i.+vering, "but somehow I feel stupid; I suppose just because it is Sunday."

"That is not a very good reason, I should think," said Mrs Seaton, gravely. "What were you thinking about?"

"I don't know; I have forgotten. I was thinking about a great many things. For one thing, I was thinking how long the winter is here."

"Why, it is hardly time to think about that yet," said Miss Atherton, coming forward from the sofa where she had been sitting; "the winter is hardly begun yet. For my part, I like winter. But," she added, pretending to whisper very secretly to Miss Gertrude, "I don't mind telling _you_ that I get a little stupid on Sunday myself."

"Frances, pray don't talk nonsense to the child," said Mrs Seaton.

"It is not half so much of a sin to talk nonsense as it is to look glum, as Gertrude does. What ails you, child?"

Gertrude made no answer.

"Are you unwell, Gertrude?" asked Mrs Seaton.

"No, mother; I am perfectly well. What an idea!" she said, pettishly.

"She looks exactly like her Aunt Barbara," said Miss Atherton. "I declare, I shouldn't be surprised if she were to turn round and propose that I should read that extraordinary book I saw in her hand this morning! She looks capable of doing anything in the solemn line at this moment."

Gertrude laughed, but made no answer.

"You do not take exercise enough," said Mrs Seaton. "You have not been like yourself for a week."

"I dare say that is it, mamma."

"Of course she is not like herself!" said Miss Atherton. "She is exactly like her Aunt Barbara. Gertrude, my dear, you're not thinking of growing good, are you?"

"Don't you think it might be of some advantage to the world if I were to improve a little?" asked Gertrude, laughing, but not pleasantly.

"Well, I don't know. I am afraid it would put us all out sadly. Only fancy her 'having a mission,' and trying to reform me!"

"Pray, Frances, don't talk that way," said Mrs Seaton; but she could not help laughing at the look of consternation the young lady a.s.sumed.

"Ah, I know what is the matter with her!" exclaimed Miss Atherton, just as the gentlemen came in. "It is your fault, Mr Sherwood. You are making her as wise as you are yourself, and glum besides. It is quite time she were done with all those musty books. I think for the future we will consider her education finished."

"What is the matter, young ladies? You are not quarrelling, I hope?"

said Mr Seaton, seating himself beside them.

"Oh, no! It is with Mr Sherwood I am going to quarrel. He and his big books are giving Gertrude the blues. It must be stopped."

"I am sorry Miss Gertrude is in such a melancholy state," said Mr Sherwood, laughing; "but I am quite sure that neither I nor my big books have had anything to do with it. I have not had an opportunity to trouble her for a week, and I doubt whether she has troubled herself with any books of my selection for a longer time than that."

"Oh, well, you need not tell tales out of school," said Miss Atherton, hastily, noticing the look of vexation that pa.s.sed over Gertrude's face.

"I am going to take the refractory young lady in hand. I think I can teach her."

"I don't doubt it," said Mr Sherwood, with a smile and a shrug; "but if I were to be permitted to name a successor in my labours, it certainly would not be you."

"Hear him!" exclaimed Miss Atherton, with indignation which was only partly feigned. "As if I were not to be entrusted with the instruction of a chit like you! Gertrude, can't you think of something terribly severe to say to him? Tell him you are to have nothing more to do with him."

Gertrude shook her head and laughed.

"I am very well content with my teacher," she said.

"And as a general thing, I have been very well content with my pupil,"

said Mr Sherwood, looking grave. "I should like nothing better than to teach her still."

"Charles, is it decided? Are you going away?" asked Mrs Seaton.

"Yes, I am going; and the sooner the better, I suppose."

"If one could really be sure that it is best for you to go," said Mrs Seaton, with a sigh. "But it is sad that you should go alone, perhaps to be ill among strangers."

"By no means. I have no thought of being ill," said Mr Sherwood, cheerfully. "My going is not altogether, nor chiefly, on account of my health. This is the best season for my long-talked-of Southern trip, and I dare say the milder climate will suit me better than the bitter Canadian winds."

There was a great deal more said about his going which need not be repeated. Gertrude listened to all, sadly enough.

"I know how it will end," she said to herself; "I shall have to go to school after all."

She thought at first this was her only cause of regret. But it was not.

Mr Sherwood and she had become much better friends within the last few months than they used to be. As a general thing, the lessons had been a source of pleasure to both, and of great profit to Gertrude. In his capacity of teacher, Mr Sherwood never teased and bantered her as he had been apt to do at other times. Indeed, he had almost given up that now; and Gertrude thought it much more pleasant to be talked to rationally, or even to be overlooked altogether, than to be trilled with. Besides, though he put a cheerful face on the matter of leaving, he was ill, and sometimes despondent; and it seemed to her very sad indeed that he should go away among strangers alone.

"Will you answer my letters if I write to you? Or will you care to hear from me?" asked Mr Sherwood, as he bade her good-bye.

"Oh, yes, indeed! I should care very much. But I am afraid you would think my letters very uninteresting--such letters as I write to the girls at home. You would not care for them?"

"I shall care very much for them. Promise me that you will tell me everything--about your reading, and your visits, and about your little brothers, and their nurse even. I think I shall wish to hear about everything here, when I am so far-away."

Gertrude promised, but not very eagerly. An impulse seized her to ask him to forgive all her petulant speeches and waywardness, but when she tried to do it she could not find her voice. Perhaps he read her thought in her tearful eyes and changeful face, and grew a little remorseful as he remembered how often he had vexed her during the first months of their acquaintance. At any rate, he smiled very kindly as he stooped to kiss her, and said, earnestly:

"We shall always be good friends now, whatever happens. G.o.d bless you, my child! and good-bye."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

MORE CHANGES.

But I must not linger with Miss Gertrude and her troubles. It is the story of Christie that I have to tell. They went the same way for a little while, but their paths were now to separate.