Read Ebook: Nearly Lost but Dearly Won by Wilson Theodore P

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 355 lines and 32975 words, and 8 pages

"Oh! Nonsense, mamma! Everybody takes it now; it'll do me good, you'll see. Mark often gives me wine; he's a dear good brother is Mark."

Mrs Rothwell sighs, and takes a sip of sherry: she is beginning to brighten up.

"What in the world did your father mean by asking old Mr Tankardew to the party to-night?" she exclaims, turning to her elder daughters.

"Mean! Mamma--you may well ask that: the old scarecrow! They say he looks like a bag of dust and rags."

"Mark says," cries her sister, "that he's just the image of a stuffed Guy Fawkes, which the boys used to carry about London on a chair."

"Well, my dears, we must make the best of matters, we can't help it now."

"Oh! I daresay it'll be capital fun," exclaims Alice; "I shall like to see Mark doing the polite to `Old Tanky,' as he calls him."

"Come, Miss Pert, you must mind your behaviour," says Florence; "remember, Mr Tankardew is a gentleman and an old man."

"Indeed, Miss Gravity, but I'm not going to learn manners of you; mamma pays Miss Craven to teach me that, so good-bye;" and the child, with a mocking courtesy towards her sister, runs out of the room laughing.

And now let us look into the breakfast-room of "The Shrubbery," as Mrs Franklin's house is called.

Mary and her mother are sitting together, the former adding some little adornments to her evening dress, and the latter knitting.

"Don't you like Mark Rothwell, mamma?"

"No, my child."

"Oh! Mamma! What a cruelly direct answer!"

"Shouldn't I speak the direct truth, Mary?"

"Oh! Yes, certainly the truth, only you might have softened it off a little, because I think you must like some things in him."

"Yes, he is cheerful and good-tempered."

"And obliging, mamma?"

"I'm not so sure of that, Mary; self-indulgent people are commonly selfish people, and selfish people are seldom obliging: a really obliging person is one who will cross his own inclination to gratify yours, without having any selfish end in view."

"And you don't think Mark would do this, mamma?"

"I almost think not. I like to see a person obliging from principle, and not merely from impulse: not merely when his being obliging is only another form of self-gratification."

"But why should not Mark Rothwell be obliging on principle?"

"Well, Mary, you know my views. I can trust a person as truly obliging who acts on Christian principle, who follows the rule, `Look not everyone on his own things, but everyone also on the things of others,' because he loves Christ. I am afraid poor Mark has never learned to love Christ."

Mary sighs, and her mother looks anxiously at her.

"My dearest child," she says, earnestly, "I don't want you to get too intimate with the young Rothwells. I am sure they are not such companions as your own heart would approve of."

"Why, no, mamma, I can't say I admire the way in which they have been brought up."

"Admire it! Oh! Mary, this is one of the crying sins of the day. I mean the utter selfishness and self-indulgence in which so many young people are educated; they must eat, they must drink, they must talk just like their elders; they acknowledge no betters, they spurn all authority; the holy rule, `Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right,' is quite out of date with too many of them now."

"I fear it is so, mamma. I don't like the girls much at `The Firs,' but I cannot help liking Mark; I mean," she added, colouring, "as a light- hearted, generous, pleasant boy." A silence of a few moments, and then she looks up and says, timidly and lovingly, "If you think it better, dearest mamma, I won't go to the party to-night."

Mary's reply is a child's earnest embrace and a whispered assurance of unchanging love to her mother, and trust in her judgment.

Six o'clock.--Both drawing-rooms at "The Firs" were thrown into one, and brilliantly lighted up. Mysterious sounds in the dining-room below told of preparations for that part of the evening's proceedings, by no means the least gratifying to the members of a juvenile party. Friends began to assemble: young boys and girls in shoals, the former dazzling in neckties and pins, the latter in brooches and earrings: with a sprinkling of seniors. The host, hostess, and her daughters were all smiles; the last-named especially, unable, indeed, to give expression to their satisfaction at having the happiness of receiving their dear young friends. Mark was there, of course, full of fun, and really enjoying himself, the life and soul of everything.

And now, when Mrs Franklin and Mary had just taken their seats and had begun to look around them, the door was thrown widely open, and the servant announced in a loud voice, "Mr Esau Tankardew!"

Every sound was instantly hushed, every head bent forward, every mouth parted in breathless expectation. Mark crept close up to Mary and squeezed his white gloves into ropes; the next moment Mr Tankardew entered.

Marvellous transformation! The faded garments had entirely disappeared. Was this the man of dilapidation? Yes, it was Mr Tankardew. He was habited in a suit of black, which, though not new, had evidently not seen much service; his trousers ceased at the knee, leaving his silk stockings and shoes conspicuous. No reproach could be cast on the purity of his white neckcloth, nor on the general cleanliness of his person. His greeting of the host and hostess, though a little old- fashioned, was thoroughly easy and courteous, after which he begged them to leave him to himself, and to give their undivided attention to the young, whose special evening it was. Curiosity once gratified, the suspended buzz of eager talk broke out again, and allowed Mr Tankardew to make his way to Mrs Franklin and her daughter. These he saluted very heartily, and added, "Let an old man sit by you awhile, and watch the proceedings of the young people, and realise if he possibly can that he was once young himself--ah yes! Once young," and he sighed deeply.

Fun and frolic were soon at their height. Merry music struck up, and the larger of the two drawing-rooms was cleared for a dance. Mark hurried up to Mary. "Come, Mary," he cried, "I want you for a partner; we shall have capital fun; come along."

"Thank you," she replied; "I prefer to watch the others--at present, at any rate."

"Mary will do her part by trying to amuse some of the very little ones," said her mother; "I think that will be more to her taste."

"Oh! Yes, dear mamma, that it will. Thank you, Mark, all the same."

"Good, very good, very good," cried Mr Tankardew, in a low voice, and beating one hand gently on the other; "keep to that, my child, keep to that."

Mark retired with a very bad grace, and Mary, slipping away from her mother's side, gathered a company around her of the tinier sort, with glowing cheeks and very wide eyes, who were rather scared by the more boisterous proceedings of those somewhat older; she amused them in a quiet way, raising many a little happy laugh, and fairly winning their hearts.

"God bless her," muttered Mr Tankardew, when he had watched her for some time very attentively; "very good, that will do, very good indeed; keep her to it, Mrs Franklin, keep her to it."

"She's a dear, good child," said her mother.

"Very true, madam; yes, dear and good; some are dear and bad--dear at any price. I see some now."

Wine and negus were soon handed round; the tray was presented to Mary. Mr Tankardew lent forward and bent a piercing look at her. She declined, not at all knowing that he was watching her.

"Good again; very good, good girl, wise girl, prudent girl," he murmured to himself.

The tray now came to Mrs Franklin. She took a glass of sherry. Mr Tankardew's brow clouded. "Ah!" he exclaimed, and moved restlessly on his chair. The servant then approached him and offered the contents of the tray, but he waved it off with an imperious gesture of his hand, and did not vouchsafe a word.

The more boisterous party in the other room now became conscious of the presence of the wine and negus, and rushed in, surrounding the maid who was bringing in a fresh supply. Mark was at the head of them, and tossed down two glasses in rapid succession. The rest clamoured for the strong drink with eager hands and outstretched arms. "Give me some, give me some," was uttered on all sides. Self reigned paramount.

Mr Tankardew's tall form rose high above the edge of the struggling crowd, which he had approached.

"Poor things, poor things, poor things!" he said gloomily.

"A pleasant sight, these little ones enjoying themselves," said Mr Rothwell, coming up.

Mr Tankardew seemed scarcely to hear him, and returned to his place by Mrs Franklin.

"Enjoying themselves!" he exclaimed, in an undertone, "call it pampering the flesh, killing the soul, and courting the devil."

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet