Isabel Leicester
C >>
Clotilda Jennings >> Isabel Leicester
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 [Transcriber's Note:
The form of this e-text is predicated upon an assumption about the
editorial practices that obtained in Canadian publishing around the
year 1874. It is presumed that the authoress had the opportunity to
review pre-publication galley proofs and make any changes or
corrections she deemed appropriate, and that the published book is
therefore an accurate reflection of her wishes and intentions.]
ISABEL LEICESTER,
A ROMANCE,
by
MAUDE ALMA.
"Twist ye, twine ye, even so,
Mingled threads of joy and woe,
Hope and fear, peace and strife,
In the cord of human life."
HAMILTON:
SPECTATOR PRINTING HOUSE.
1874.
ISABEL LEICESTER.
CHAPTER I.
In a spacious apartment superbly furnished, and surrounded by every
luxury that could please the most fastidious taste, sat Isabel
Leicester, attired in deep mourning, with her head resting upon her
hand, her face almost as white as the handkerchief she held. Isabel's
Father had failed in business, and the misfortune had so preyed upon his
mind, that he sank under it and died. The funeral had taken place that
day, and she was to leave the house on the day following--the house
where she was born and had always lived, except when at school. The
servants had all been discharged but two, who were to leave next day.
A friend had offered Isabel a home until she could procure a situation
as a governess, which that friend Mrs. Arnold was endeavouring to obtain
for her, in the family of a lady who had been one of Mrs. Arnold's
school-fellows. Mrs. Arnold was the widow of a clergyman, with a very
limited income, and Isabel was unwilling to trespass upon the kindness
of one whose means she knew to be so small. But she had no alternative
at the time and trusted that it would not be long before she would be
able to procure the situation she had in view, or some other. The tea
remained untasted on the table, for Isabel was absorbed by the
melancholy thoughts that filled her heart. She tried to feel resigned,
but her pride was wounded at the idea of becoming a 'governess.' She had
been the spoiled petted daughter of a wealthy merchant of the city of
New York, whose chief delight had been to indulge her in every way. But
still Mr. Leicester had been a truly good and christian man, and had
taught his daughter not to set her affections on earthly things, and to
remember that wealth was given to us for the benefit of others, as well
as for our own enjoyment. And he was rewarded as she grew up to find
that her chief aim was to do good to the many poor families whose
necessities came to her knowledge. Great also was his satisfaction to
find that after two seasons in New York, where she had been the Belle,
she was still the same loving, unassuming, pure-minded girl she had ever
been, tho' the admiration and attention her beauty and accomplishments
had excited, had she been less carefully trained, might have rendered
her haughty and vain.
During her Father's illness, when her time and thoughts were occupied
with attending upon him, and in anxiety for his recovery she had thought
and felt that the loss of property was an evil of little moment, and
tried to persuade her Father not to think so much about the reverse,
urging that he could get some employment, and they would still live very
happily together in a cottage.
But now that he was gone, and she had no one left to look too, her
lonely and self-dependant position was felt severely, and the tears she
could not restrain, fell unheeded. The fire sank low, and finally went
out, and still Isabel sat thinking of the miserable prospect the future
presented. At last she rose with a shudder, and rang for the tea-things
to be removed, then retiring to her own room, she threw herself upon the
bed in an agony of grief.
She had remained there some time, when she felt a kind hand laid upon
her shoulder, and turning her head she saw the old housekeeper, Mrs.
Stewart, with a cup of hot tea. "Come my dear young lady," said she,
while the tears streamed down her aged cheeks, "You must take this,
it will never do for you to go without your tea."
"I know you attach great virtue to a cup of tea" replied Isabel, "so to
please you I will take it."
"Oh dear, dear," muttered the old woman as she descended the stairs,
"how pale and ill she looks, and no wonder poor lamb, if she goes on
like this she will be laid up. Oh, how I wish Mrs. Mornington had not
gone to Europe. Poor child, poor child."
After Mrs. Stewart had left her, Isabel knelt down and prayed for
strength to do her duty, however trying she might find it, and for the
holy spirit to comfort her in affliction, after which she retired to
rest, and was soon in a calm sleep.
Next morning she arose much refreshed, and having sought divine aid and
protection, she commenced to arrange for her departure. Her Father's
creditors knowing him to be a man of strict integrity, and that his
failure was not attributable to any want of prudence on his part, had
kindly arranged that she should retain whatever she particularly wished.
This was a great gratification to Isabel, tho' she was too honorable to
take an undue advantage of this benevolent intention, indeed she was
almost too conscientious upon this point.
The task before her was a sad one, and although she strove very hard she
could not restrain her tears as she made her selections. She was soon
joined by Mrs. Arnold, who told her she had come to help her to pack,
and that she should not leave until Isabel accompanied her. "Come" she
said, kissing her affectionately, "the sooner this painful task is over
my love the better. I have good news for you. I have heard from Mrs.
Arlington, and she says that she shall be most happy to obtain the
services of any one recommended by me. The salary I find is only two
hundred dollars a year, it is indeed less than I expected, but you must
remember that this is your first engagement, no doubt if you remain
there a year or two, you will be able to obtain a much more remunerative
one."
This announcement of Mrs. Arnold's brought to Isabel's mind in full
force all the annoyances to which she would be subjected in her new
position, and clasping her hands, she gave way to uncontrollable
emotion.
"I do not wonder, dear, at your being disappointed, after what you have
been used to, two hundred dollars must seem a very paltry sum. I dare
say you gave nearly as much to your maid Harris, but my dear, as a
governess your requirements will be less, so with the wardrobe you now
possess, you will be able to manage very nicely."
"Oh, Mrs. Arnold, I was not thinking about the salary, I am sure I can
make that do very well," sobbed Isabel. "You are very kind indeed to
trouble yourself so much about me."
"You need not go to Elm Grove at present, my love, you are quite welcome
to stay with me until you get over your loss a little, and feel better
able to conform to circumstances," said Mrs. Arnold kindly.
Isabel made an effort to respond gratefully to her kind friend, and
expressed a hope that she would shortly be able to undertake the duties
of her new situation.
"I have no doubt you will be very comfortable at Elm Grove, it is a
lovely place. Of course it will seem strange at first, but people soon
get used to a place you know if they only try. I am very happy now, but
I am sure at one time, I thought I never should be again," continued
Mrs. Arnold, "but we will say no more on that subject now, we must get
on with our work." And she began to give advice about what Isabel should
take, and said that whatever she did not like to take with her to her
new home, she could leave at her house.
Fortunately the housekeeper then came to ask if she should pack.
"Certainly," exclaimed Mrs. Arnold, "the very person I wanted," and off
they went to Isabel's great relief.
Being left to herself, Isabel soon concluded her selection, and ordering
Mary to take them to be packed, she went into the library to get a
little rest, and time to think, tho' the latter she could scarcely do,
as her temples throbbed violently. Laying her head on the old familiar
couch, she endeavoured to calm the tumult of her feelings, the bright
sunshine, and the merry sound of the sleigh bells outside, only made her
feel her desolation more acutely.
"Luncheon is ready dear, and the packing all done," said Mrs. Arnold,
throwing herself in an easy chair.
"You have indeed been quick," replied Isabel, heartily wishing they had
been longer.
"It is all due to Mrs. Stewart, she is really the most clever person at
packing I ever saw, tho' poor soul she was nearly blinded with tears.
Come love, we must have luncheon now, and after that we will send for a
sleigh."
"Indeed, dear Mrs. Arnold, I cannot go until evening, I am sure Mr.
Macdermott will be here presently, for he knows that I am going to-day."
"Ah, I know, you want to be alone to muse of things in your dreamy way,
but my love, it is better not to do so, it only makes things harder to
bear. Try to banish disagreeable subjects as much as possible, that is
my maxim. But I cannot refuse you anything just now, so after luncheon I
will go home, and will come back for you in the evening."
Soon after Mrs. Arnold's departure, Mr. Macdermott the clergyman, called
as Isabel had expected, and his sympathy, and advice, tended greatly to
soothe the pain she felt at leaving the home she loved so well. He said
that Mrs. Macdermott was still too ill to visit her, but that if she
felt able she would try to see her at Mrs. Arnold's. He told her also
that he had that morning received a letter from Louis, in which he
desired to be kindly remembered. Mr. Macdermott remarked the rich
crimson that suffused her cheeks, at the mention of his nephew's name,
but the remotest idea of their engagement never entered his mind. He
remained with her about an hour, then after enquiring if he could be of
any service to her, he took his leave.
At last the dreaded hour arrived, and Mrs. Arnold with it. After bidding
the housekeeper and Mary a kind farewell, (they had both been with her a
great many years,) Isabel accompanied her friend to Rose Cottage.
CHAPTER II.
The setting sun shed its bright tints over the snow which lay thick upon
the ground, making it glisten like diamonds, the cold was intense, and a
bitter wind howled through the leafless trees, when the train arrived at
M----, and Isabel almost benumbed with cold, procured a conveyance from
the station to the Rock Hotel, where Mrs. Arlington had promised to send
for her.
On arriving at the hotel, she found the sleigh waiting punctual to the
time appointed. Isabel would gladly have partaken of some refreshment,
but Mrs. Arnold had informed her, that Mrs. Arlington was very
particular, and to have kept the horses standing, Isabel felt would have
offended her, which she was very anxious to avoid although she was
shivering with cold.
It was a long drive of twelve miles to Elm Grove, but the horses went at
a great speed, and in less than an hour they arrived at their
destination. As they drew up at the door, it was opened by a footman,
and a woman who seemed to be an upper servant met her in the hall, and
conducted her to her room.
"I suppose you would like some tea Miss," she said "I will order it
while you are taking off your things, and then I will show you the
school-room. Mrs. Arlington and the young ladies are dressing for a
ball, so they cannot see you to-night."
When Norris had left the room, Isabel sat down with a sigh, and looked
about to see what kind of accommodation she was to have. It was a nice
sized room, with a bay window having an eastern aspect, at which the
wind was now howling with great violence. It was neatly, but plainly
furnished, the fire had burnt low, and the room was cold. She took off
her things as quickly as possible, and sincerely hoped that the
school-room would be more comfortable.
Norris soon returned, and Isabel desiring her to have more fuel put upon
the fire descended to the school-room, which she found very bright and
pleasant looking, the large fire and lamp making it look quite
attractive.
The tea was on the table, and Norris after saying "if you want anything
Miss, please ring for Susan," left the room. Isabel was very glad to
have some refreshment after her cold drive, and when she rang to have
the things removed, the bell was answered by a neat, pleasant looking
girl, who had such a sunny face that it did one good to look at her, and
presently a sweet little girl of about seven years old came running into
the room, and going up to Isabel, said "you are our new governess are
you not. I think I shall like you very much, but I can't stay now, for
Eliza is waiting to put me to bed, but I did so want to see you
to-night. Good night!" and throwing her arms round Isabel's neck, she
gave her a hearty kiss, and disappeared as quickly as she came. When
Isabel returned to her room she had no cause to complain of the fire
which was piled to the top of the grate.
When she awoke next morning it seemed very strange to be where she had
not the least idea what any of the family were like. After dressing and
arranging some of her things, she sat down to contemplate her situation,
which she found anything but pleasant, so she determined to descend to
the school-room.
The door was open, and as she approached she overheard little Amy saying
"she is the prettiest lady I ever saw, only she looks so pale and sad."
Isabel found three little girls in the room, of whom Amy was the
youngest. Amy greeted her in the same cordial manner she had done on
the preceding evening, the other two rose saying "good morning Miss
Leicester," but when she stooped to kiss them, Alice sulkily put up her
face, and Rose laughed. "Fancy, Miss Manning kissing us" she whispered
to her sister. "Hush!" returned Alice, "she will hear."
Isabel spoke kindly to them, but Alice only returned unwilling, and Rose
pert answers, so the breakfast was a dull unpleasant affair, and Isabel
perceived they regarded the governess in the light of an enemy; even
little Amy became shy and uneasy.
After breakfast Rose informed her that they always had half an hour
before school for a run out of doors. As they were departing little Amy
ran back, and coming close up to Isabel whispered "don't cry Miss
Leicester, I love you, indeed I do," for Amy had noticed the tears that
would come in spite of her efforts to repress them. Isabel drew the
child to her, and kissing her pretty upturned face, told her to go with
the others.
Amy had scarcely gone, when Mrs. Arlington entered. She was tall and
stately, rather cold and haughty, and very dignified and patronizing in
her manner. She hoped Miss Leicester had been made comfortable, and was
sure that she would like the children. She then informed her that the
school hours were from nine until four, with an hour for dinner, then
she would have to take them for a walk, after that her time was her own.
She would take her meals with the children, but she would be happy to
have her come into the drawing-room occasionally in the evening. She
said that her own time was so much occupied with her elder daughters,
that she was forced to leave the children entirely to the governess,
but, that as Mrs. Arnold had so strongly recommended her she felt sure
she should be satisfied, then bidding Miss Leicester a polite good
morning, she swept majestically from the room.
Poor Isabel, she had not expected quite so much dignity, and was
excessively annoyed. "Take the children for walks," that was a thing she
had not thought of, and she did not relish the idea and as to going into
the drawing-room, she could very well dispense with that. She was not
aware that Mrs. Arlington intended her accomplished young governess to
help to amuse her guests. Excessively annoyed, Isabel repaired to her
own room to calm her ruffled feelings.
At nine o'clock she went to the school-room and found her pupils there
already, also a very pretty girl of about seventeen, whom they were
coaxing to tell them about the ball. As Isabel entered the room, Amy
exclaimed, "Miss Leicester this is Emily!" Then Emily laughed merrily,
and held out her hand saying, "I hope we shall be good friends Miss
Leicester, I'm sorry we were out last night."
"Oh! Emily, I'm sure you wanted very much to go to the ball, and you
just now said that you enjoyed yourself exceedingly," said Alice
gravely.
"I didn't mean that you silly child, returned Emily, but I am intruding
upon school hours I fear, so if you will allow me Miss Leicester I will
come for a chat before dinner."
Isabel bowed assent and Emily retired, rather annoyed that her advances
had not met with a warmer reception. Shortly after Emily's departure,
a tall and very elegant looking girl of about twenty entered the room,
and bowing condescendingly to Isabel, said, "have the goodness to try
these songs Miss Leicester, I wish to know if there are any pretty ones
among them, I would not trouble you only I am so excessively tired" she
added, taking the most comfortable seat the room afforded; this was done
in the most easy manner possible, precluding of course the idea that it
was by design. Miss Arlington upon entering any room, immediately
perceived the nicest place, and having seen, at once took possession
with an easy indifference, as if totally unconscious that she was
monopolizing the best place. Isabel complied with her request, tho' not
best pleased with the interruption.
"You sing very nicely Miss Leicester," Miss Arlington said
patronizingly.
Isabel's lip curled contemptuously, she presumed so when the crowded
room had been hushed to perfect silence whenever she approached the
piano, and when she ceased singing, the murmured praise and applause on
all sides had sent the hot blood to her cheeks, and this not once or
twice, but scores of times--she needed not to be told that she sang
nicely.
"She sings much better than you do Grace," said Rose pertly.
"Don't be rude, Rose," replied Grace, haughtily, "Miss Leicester will
have some trouble with you I imagine," then thanking Isabel, she left
the room excessively annoyed with Rose.
The lessons proceeded, and Isabel thought that Alice and Rose must alter
their manners greatly before she could take any interest in teaching
them. It was evident that they had not been treated kindly by their last
governess. Alice sulked so much, and Rose was so pert, that Isabel found
it difficult to keep her temper, and when tea was over, her head ached
so severely, and she felt so tired and miserable, that she retired to
her room, and locking herself in gave way to irrepressible emotion,
while she thought that she should indeed be unhappy in her new position.
Presently some one knocked at the door, but vexed at the interruption,
and not wishing to be seen giving way to her feelings, Isabel took no
notice. As the knocking continued unanswered, a soft voice pleaded for
admittance. On opening the door, she found it was Emily, and not Amy,
as she expected.
"I hope you will excuse me," she said, "but not finding you in the
school-room I came after you, as I knew that I should not have any other
opportunity this evening."
Isabel was very much confused, but Emily sat down by her side, telling
her how very much she felt for her, and how she hoped she would consider
her a friend. "Mrs. Arnold wrote and told me all about you" she said,
"and dear Isabel I will do all in my power to make you happy."
But Isabel only sobbed, "I can never be happy again--never."
"You must not say that, you must not think so," exclaimed Emily. "You
must come into the drawing-room with us, and that will cheer you up a
bit. I know you will like papa. Elm Grove looks dreary now, but in
summer it is delightful. Then, I always get up early and go for a ramble
before breakfast, if I can only get any one to go with me, and I feel
sure you will go with me next summer. I think I shall breakfast with
you, I can't wait for mama's late breakfast, but I would sooner have
gone without altogether, than have taken it with Miss Manning. I only
left school you know a few weeks ago, and I like a little fun. I know I
make the children very outrageous sometimes, but then, you know I could
not behave at all like a fashionable young lady in the evening, if I did
not get rid of some of my wild spirits before hand. By-the-bye," she
cried, laughing, "I believe you will have to teach me manners, Miss
Massie pronounced me quite incorrigible, my sister is a perfect model
according to her idea, but I could never be like Grace, I think mamma
has given up all thought of it."
"I don't know about teaching you manners, but I must try what I can do
with Alice and Rose, they are sadly deficient even in politeness."
"Ah, you have found that out already have you," cried Emily laughing.
Isabel colored, and murmured something about forgetting who she was
speaking to. "O you needn't mind, I like people who say what they think"
said Emily, "besides that is just what papa says about them, but you
must own that Amy is a nice little thing, I don't think she could be
rude or unkind."
"Yes Amy is a sweet child."
"It will not be quite so dull here next week, for Everard is coming
home. I do wish so much for you to see him, he is my idea of perfection
as far as attainable in human nature. Oh! he's so handsome, and such a
dear nice fellow, I'm sure you will like him."
"Perhaps you are not an impartial judge, I may not be able to see his
perfections so clearly."
"You can't help seeing them, they are as clear as daylight," returned
Emily, warmly. "What do you think he asked me in his last letter--to
tell him what sort of a gorgon the new governess was, so as I wrote
to-day, I said she was beyond all description, and not to be compared
with Miss Manning, so if he does not imagine something awful its very
strange, (Isabel did not look well pleased) I hope you wont mind; it was
such a nice opportunity for a trick, but it is time I dressed for
dinner, dear me how tiresome, and away she bounded. What a funny girl,
thought Isabel, I wonder if I shall like her, at all events she means to
be kind.
CHAPTER III.
Isabel was not happy in her new home, it was no easy task to teach such
unruly girls as Alice and Rose, whose chief object was to get as much
fun as possible at the expense of their governess, but she trusted in
time to be able to bring them to better order by the exercise of
firmness and kindness combined. With Amy, however it was quite
different, she seemed never so happy as when with Isabel.
It was Sunday afternoon, the children did not seem to know how to employ
themselves, but sat sullenly each with a book, tho' it was very evident
that they were not reading. Indeed, Isabel had seen by their manners all
day, that they had not been accustomed to have Sunday made pleasant.
"Come here Amy dear," said Isabel, "would you like me to read to you."
"Yes please, for it makes my head ache to read all the afternoon."
So Isabel read a portion of scripture and several nice little hymns.
Very soon as she had expected, Alice and Rose, drew near. Then she read
them part of the 'chief's daughter,' and after that she played several
sacred pieces and sang a hymn to the tune tranquility. The children all
gathered round her asking her to teach them to sing it. She promised to
do so if they would learn the words, which they immediately commenced to
do.
After tea they had a most unexpected and very welcome visitor. "Oh!
Everard, when did you come home," they all exclaimed.
"While you were at church," he returned.
"What a shame you didn't come to see us before," said Alice
reproachfully.
"O then, I suppose it was you who shut the door when we were singing
this afternoon," interposed Rose, "why didn't you come in."
"I did not wish to disturb you" he answered, "but why don't some of you
have the politeness to introduce me to your new governess."
Isabel colored deeply as he used the distasteful appellation, and bent
lower over her book, and when Rose said, Mr. Everard Arlington, Miss
Leicester," her bow was more haughty and dignified than she was aware
of. He seated himself at the window with Amy on his knee, while the
others stood one on either side. Isabel heard a great deal being said
about Miss Leicester in an under tone, and was about to leave the room,
when Everard interposed, saying "I shall go, unless you stay Miss
Leicester, I'm not going to turn you out of the room."
"Indeed I would rather go," said Isabel.
"Indeed I would rather you stayed." returned Everard.
"I do not wish to be any restraint on the children, it would be better
for me to go."
"Well," said Everard putting his hand on the door, "I may as well have
it out with you at once, as I did with Miss Manning, I am very fond of
my little sisters, and often come to see them here."
"I have no objection, only let me go."
"But that is just what I don't want you to do, and I always have my own
way at Elm Grove. You must not run away whenever I come, or I shall
think you consider me an intruder."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14