August 18, 2025 • 37 mins
In this captivating novella by the renowned Elizabeth Gaskell, we delve into the life and memories of the aristocratic Lady Ludlow, as narrated by her young charge, Margaret Dawson. Lady Ludlow embodies the resistance of the old English gentry to embrace social reform and technological advancements, including education for the less fortunate and a more lenient approach to religion. Through her reflections on friends from the tumultuous times of the French Revolution, she seeks to protect and mentor the many young ladies under her care. [Summary by Rosie]
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter twelve of My Lady Ludlow by Elizabeth Gaskell. This
is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
LibriVox dot org. Recording by Adina Owen. My Lady Ludlow
by Elizabeth Gaskell, Chapter twelve. I am ashamed to say
(00:25):
what feeling became strongest in my mind about this time,
next to the sympathy we all of us felt for
my dear lady in her deep sorrow. I mean, for
that was greater and stronger than anything else. However contradictory
you may think it when you hear all. It might
arise from my being so far from well at the time,
which produced a diseased mind and a diseased body. But
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I was absolutely jealous for my father's memory when I
saw how many signs of grief there were for my
lord's death, he having done next to nothing for the
village and parish, which now changed, as it were, its
daily life because his lordship died in a far off city.
My father had spent the best years of his manhood
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in laboring hard body and soul for the people amongst
whom he lived. His family, of course claimed the first
place in his heart. He would have been good for little,
even in the way of benevolence, if they had not,
but close after them, he cared for his parishioners and neighbors.
And yet when he died that the church bells told
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and smote upon our hearts with hard, fresh pain at
every beat, the sounds of everyday life still went on,
close pressing around us. Carts and carriages, street cries, distant
barrel organs. The kindly neighbors kept them out of our
street life. Active noisy life pressed on our acute consciousness
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of death, and jarred upon it as on a quick nerve.
And when we went to church, my father's own church,
though the pulpit cushions were black, and many of the
congregation had put on some humble sign of mourning, yet
it did not alter the whole material aspect of the place.
And yet what was Lord Ludlow's relation to Hanbury compared
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to my father's work and place? And oh, it was
very wicked in me. I think if I had seen
my lady, if I had dared to ask to go
to her, I should not have felt so miserable, so discontented.
But she sat in her own room, hung with black
all even over the shutters. She saw no light but
that which was artificial candles, lamps and the like. For
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more than a month, only Adams went near her. Mister
Gray was not admitted, though he called daily. Even Missus
Medlicott did not see her for near a fortnight. The
sight of my lady's griefs, or rather the recollection of it,
made Missus Medlicott talk far more than was her wont
She told us with many tears and much gesticulation, even
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speaking German at times when her English would not That
my lady sat there, a white figure in the middle
of the darkened room, a shaded lamp near her, the
light of which fell on an open bible, the Great
Family Bible. It was not open to any chapter or
consoling verse, but at the page whereon were registered the
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births of her nine children. Five had died in infancy,
sacrificed to the cruel system which forbade the mother to
suckle her babies. Four had lived longer. Urian had been
the first to die, ug Tred Mortimer Earl Ludlow the last.
My lady did not cry. Missus Medlicott said she was
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quite composed, very still, very silent. She put aside everything
that savored of mere business, sent people to mister Horner
for that. But she was proudly alive to every possible
form which might do honor to the last of her race.
In those days, expresses were slow things, and forms still slower.
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Before my lady's directions could reach Vienna, my lord was buried.
Then there was some talk, so Missus Medlicott said about
taking the body up and bringing him to Hanbury, but
his executors, connections to the Ludlow Side, demurred to this.
If he were removed to England, he must be carried
on to Scotland and interred with his Monkshaven forefathers. My lady,
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deeply hurt, withdrew from the discussion before it degenerated to
an unseemly contest. But all the more for this understood
mortification of my ladies. Did the whole village, in a
state of Hanbury assume every outward sign of mourning. The
church bells told morning and evening. The church itself was
draped in black. Inside, hatchments were placed everywhere where hatchments
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could be put all the tenantry spoke in hushed voices
for more than a week, scarcely daring to observe that
all flesh, even that of an earl Ludlow and the
last of the Hanburys, was but grass. After all, the
very fighting lion closed its front door front shutters it
had none, and those who needed drinks stolen at the
back and were silent and maudlin over their cups instead
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of riotous and noisy. Miss Galindo's eyes were swollen up
with crying, and she told me, with a fresh burst
of tears that even humpbacked Sally had been found sobbing
over her bible and using a pocket handkerchief for the
first time in her life, her aprons having hitherto stood
her in the necessary stead, but not being sufficiently in
accordance with etiquette to be used when morning over an
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earl's premature decease. If it was this way out of
the hall, you might work it by the rule of three,
as Miss Galindo used to say, and judge what it was.
In the hall. We none of us spoke, but in
a whisper. We tried not to eat, And indeed the
shock had been still really great and we did really
care so much for my lady that for some days
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we had but little appetite. But after that I fear
our sympathy grew weaker, while our flesh grew stronger. But
we still spoke low, and our hearts ached. Whenever we
thought of my lady sitting there alone in the darkened room,
with the light ever falling on that one solemn page,
we wished, oh how I wished that she would see
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mister Gray. But Adams said she thought my lady ought
to have a bishop come to see her. Still no
one had authority enough to send for one. Mister Horner
all this time was suffering as much as anyone. He
was too faithful a servant of the great Hanbury family,
though now the family had dwindled down to a fragile
old lady, not to mourn acutely over its probable extinction.
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He had, besides a deeper sympathy and reverence with and
for my lady in all things than probably he cared
ever to show, for his manners were always measured and cold.
He suffered from sorrow, he also suffered from wrong. My
Lord's executors kept writing to him continually. My lady refused
to listen to mere business, saying she entrusted all to him,
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but the all was more complicated than I ever thoroughly understood.
As far as I comprehended the case, it was something
of this kind. There had been a mortgage raised on
my lady's property of Hanbury to enable my Lord her
husband to spend money in cultivating his Scotch estates after
some new fashion that required a capital. As long as
my Lord her son lived, who was to succeed both
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the estates after her death. This did not signify, so
she had said and felt. And she had refused to
take any steps to secure the repayment of capital, or
even the payment of the interest of the mortgage from
the possible representatives and possessors of the Scotch estates to
the possible owner of the Hanbury property, saying it ill
became her to calculate on the contingency of her son's death.
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But he had died childless, unmarried. The heir of Monkshaven
property was an Edinburgh advocate, a faraway kinsman of my lord's.
The Hanbury property at my lady's death would go to
the descendants of a third son of the Squire Hanbury
in the days of Queen Anne. This complication of affairs
was most grievous to mister Horner. He had always been
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opposed to the mortgage, had hated the payment of the
interest as obliging my lady to practice certain economies, which,
though she took care to make them as personal as possible,
he disliked his derogatory to the family. Poor mister Horner.
He was so cold and hard in his manner, so
curt and decisive in his speech, that I don't think
we any of us did him justice. Miss Galindo was
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almost the first at this time to speak a kind
word of him, or to take thought of him at all,
any farther than to get out of his way when
we saw him approaching. I don't think mister Horner is well,
she said one day, about three weeks after we had
heard of my lord's death. He says, resting his head
on his hands, and hardly hears me when I speak
to him. But I thought no more of it, as
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Miss Galindo did not name it again. My lady came
amongst us once more. From elderly she had become old,
a little, frail old lady in heavy, black drapery, never
speaking about nor alluding to her great sorrow, quieter, gentler,
paler than ever before, and her eyes dim with much weeping,
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never witnessed by mortal. She had seen mister Gray the
expiration of the month of deep retirement. But I do
not think that even to him she had said one
word of her own particular individual sorrow. All mention of
it seemed to be buried deep for evermore. One day
mister Horner sent word that he was too much indisposed
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to attend to his usual business at the hall, but
he wrote down some directions and requests to Miss Glindo,
saying that he would be at his office early the
next morning. The next morning he was dead. Miss Galindo
told my lady. Miss Galindo herself cried plentifully, but my lady,
although very much distressed, could not cry. It seemed a
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physical impossibility, as if she had shed all the tears
in her power. Moreover, I almost think her wonder was
far greater that she herself lived than that mister Horner died.
It was almost natural that so faithful a servant should
break his heart when the family he belonged to lost
their stay their heir and their last hope. Yes, mister
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Horner was a faithful servant. I do not think there
are so many faithful now, but perhaps that is an
old woman's fancy of mine. When his will came to
be examined, it was discovered that soon after Harry Gregson's accident,
mister Horner had left the few thousands three I think
of which he was possessed in trust for Harry's benefit,
desiring his executors to see that the lad was well
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educated in certain things for which mister Horner had thought
that he had shown a special aptitude. And there was
a kind of implied apology to my lady in one sentence,
where he stated that Harry's lameness would prevent his being
ever able to gain his living by the exercise of
any mere bodily faculties as had been wished by a
lady whose wishes he the test dator, was bound to regard.
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But there was a codicil in the will, dated since
Lord Ludlow's death, feebly written by mister Horner himself, as
if in preparation only for some more formal manner of bequest,
or perhaps only as a mere temporary arrangement till he
could see a lawyer and have a fresh will made.
In this he revoked his previous bequest to Harry Gregson.
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He only left two hundred pounds to mister Gray, to
be used as the gentleman thought best for Henry Gregson's benefit.
With this one exception, he bequeathed all the rest of
his savings to my lady, with a hope that they
might form an est egg, as it were, toward paying
off the mortgage which had been such a grief to
him during his life. I may not repeat all this
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in lawyer's phrase. I heard it through Miss Galindo, and
she might make mistakes, though indeed she was very clear
headed and soon earned the respect of mister Smithson, the
lady's lawyer from Warwick. Mister Smithson knew Miss Galindo a
little before, both personally and by reputation, but I don't
think he was prepared to find her installed as Stewart's clerk,
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and at first he was inclined to treat her in
this capacity with polite contempt. But Miss Galindo was both
a lady and a spirited sense of woman, and she
could put aside her self indulgence in eccentricity of speech
and manner. Whenever she chose nay more. She was usually
so talkative that, if she had not been amusing and
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warm hearted, one might have thought her weir sum occasionally,
but to meet mister Smithson, she came out daily in
her Sunday gown. She said no more than was required
an answer to his questions. Her books and papers were
in thorough order, and methodically kept her statements of matters
of fact accurate and to be relied upon. She was
amusingly conscious of her victory over his contempt of a
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woman clerk and his preconceived opinion of her unpractical eccentricity.
Let me alone, she said one day, when she came
in to sit awhile with me. That man is a
good man, a sensible man, and I have no doubt
he is a good lawyer, but he can't fathom women. Yet,
I make no doubt he'll go back to Warwick and
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never give me credit again to those people who made
him think me half cracked to begin with. Oh, my
dear he did. He showed it twenty times worse than
my poor dear master ever did. It was a form
to be gone through to please my lady, and for
her sake, he would hear my statements and see my books.
It was keeping a woman out of harm's way at
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any rate, to let her fancy herself useful. I read
the man, and I am thankful to say he cannot
read me at least only one side of me. When
I see an end to be gained, I can behave
myself accordingly. Here was a man who thought that a
woman in a black silk gown was a respectable, orderly
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kind of person, and I was a woman in a
black silk gown. He believed that a woman could not
write straight lines, and required a man to tell her
that two and two made four. I was not above
ruling my books, and had cocker a little more at
my fingers ends than he had. But my greatest triumph
has been holding my tongue. He would have thought nothing
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of my books, or my sums, or my black silk
gown if I had spoken unasked. So I have buried
more since in my bosom these ten days than ever
I have uttered in the whole course of my life. Before.
I have been so curt so abrupt, so abominably dull,
that I'll answer for it. He thinks me worthy to
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be a man. But I must go back to him,
my dear, So goodbye to conversation and you. But though
mister Smithson might be satisfied with Miss Galindo, I am
afraid she was the only part of the affair with
which he was content. Everything else went wrong. I could
not say who told me so, But the conviction of
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this seemed to pervade the house. I never knew how
much we had all looked up to the silent gruff
mister Horner for decisions until he was gone. My lady
herself was a pretty good woman of business, as women
of business go. Her father, seeing that she would be
the heiress of the Hanbury property, had given her a training,
which was not unusual in those days. She liked to
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feel herself queen regnant and to have to decide in
all cases between herself and her tenantry. But perhaps mister
Horner would have done it more wisely. Not but what
she had always attended to him. At last, she would
begin by saying pretty clearly and promptly, what she would
have done and what she would not have done if
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mister Horner approved of it. He bowed instead about obeying
her directly if he disapproved of it. He bowed and
lingered so long before he obeyed her that she forced
his opinion out of him with her Well, mister Horner,
and what have you to say against it? For she
always understood his silence as well as if he had spoken.
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But the estate was pressed for ready money, and mister
Horner had grown gloomy in languid since the death of
his wife, and even his own personal affairs were not
in the order in which they had been a year
or two before. For his old clerk had gradually become superannuated,
or at any rate unable by the superfluity of his
own energy and wit to say supply the spirit that
was wanting in mister Horner. Day after day, mister Smithson
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seemed to grow more fidgety, more annoyed at the state
of affairs, like everyone else employed by Lady Ludlow. As
far as I could learn, he had a hereditary tie
to the Hanbury family. As long as the Smithsons had
been lawyers, they had been lawyers to the Hanburys, always
coming in on all great family occasions, and better able
to understand the characters and connect the links of what
had once been a large and scattered family than any
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individual thereof had ever been as long as a man
was at the head of the Hanburys. The lawyers had
simply acted as servants and had only given their advice
when it was required, But they had assumed a different position.
On the memorable occasion of the mortgage, they had remonstrated
against it. My lady had resented this remonstrance, and a
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slight unspoken coolness had existed between her and the father
of this mister Smithson, ever since. I was very sorry
for my lady. Mister Smithson was inclined to blame mister
Horner for the disorderly state in which he found some
of the outlying farms, and for the deficiencies in the
annual payment of rents. Mister Smithson had too much good
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feeling to put this blame into words. But my lady's
quick instinct led her to reply to a thought the
existence of which she perceived, and she quickly told the
truth and explained how she had interfered repeatedly to prevent
mister Horner from taking certain desirable steps which were discordant
to her hereditary sense of right and wrong between landlord
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and tenant. She also spoke of the want of ready
money as a misfortune that could be remedied by more
economical personal expenditure on her own part, by which individual
saving it was possible that a reduction of fifty pounds
a year might have been accomplished. But as soon as
mister Smithson touched on larger economies, such as either affected
the welfare of others or the honor and standing of
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the Great House of Hanbury, she was inflexible. Her establishment
consisted of somewhere about forty servants, of whom nearly as
many as twenty were unable to perform their work properly,
and yet would have been hurt if they had been dismissed.
So they had the credit of fulfilling duties while my
lady paid and kept their substitutes. Mister Smithson made a
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calculation and would have saved some hundreds a year by
pensioning off these old servants, but my lady would not
hear of it. Then again, I know privately that he
urged her to allow some of us to return to
our homes. Bitterly. We should have regretted the separation from
Lady Ludlow, But we would have gone back gladly had
we known at the time that her circumstances required it.
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But she would not listen to the proposal for a moment.
If I cannot act justly towards everyone, I will give
up a plan which has been a source of much satisfaction.
At least I will not carry it out to such
an extent in future. But to these young ladies who
do me the favor to live with me at present,
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I stand pledged. I cannot go back for my word,
Missus Smithson, we had better talk no more of this.
As she spoke, she entered the room where I lay.
She and mister Smithson were coming for some papers contained
in the bureau. They did not know I was there,
and mister Smithson started a little when he saw me,
as he must have been aware that I had overheard something.
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But my lady did not change a muscle of her face.
All the world might overhear her kind just pure sayings,
and she had no fear of their misconstruction. She came
up to me and kissed me on the forehead, and
then went to search for the required papers. I rode
over the Connington Farms yesterday, my lady, I must say
I was quite grieved to see the condition there in
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all the land that is not waste is utterly exhausted
with working successive white crops, not a pinch of manure
laid on the ground for years. I must say that
a greater contrast could never have been presented from that
between Harding's farm and the next field, fences in perfect order, rotation, crops,
sheeps eating down the turn on the wastelands, everything that
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could be desired. Whose farm is that, asked my lady? Why?
I am sorry to say it was on none of
your ladyships that I saw such good methods adopted. I
hoped it was. I stopped my horse to inquire. A
queer looking man, sitting on his horse like a tailor,
watching his men with a couple of the sharpest eyes
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I ever saw, and dropping his ages at every word,
answered my question and told me it was his. I
could not go on asking him who he was, but
I fell into conversation with him and gathered that he
had earned some money in trade in Birmingham and had
bought the estate five hundred acres I think, he said,
on which he was born, and now was setting himself
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to cultivate it in downright earnest, going to Holcombe and
Woolburn and half the county over to get himself up
on the subject. It would be brooke, that dissenting bagger
from Birmingham, said my lady in her most ice tone,
mister Smithson, I am sorry I have been detaining you
so long, but I think these are the letters you
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wished to see. If her ladyship thought by this speech
to quench mister Smithson, she was mistaken. Mister Smithson just
looked at the letters and went on with the old subject. Now,
my lady, it struck me that if you had such
a man to take poor Horner's place, he would work
the rents on the land round most satisfactorily. I should
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not despair of inducing this very man to undertake the work.
I should not mind speaking to him myself on the subject,
for we got capital friends over a snack of luncheon
that he asked me to share with him. Lady Ludlow
fixed her eyes on mister Smithson as he spoke, and
never took them off his face until he had ended.
She was silent a minute before she answered, you are
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very good mister Smithson, but I need not trouble you
with any such arrangements. I am going to write this
afternoon to Captain James, of one of my sons, who
has I hear been severely wounded at Trafalgar, to request
him to honor me by accepting mister Horner's situation. A
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Captain James, a captain in the navy, going to manage
for ladyship's a state. If you be so kind, I
shall esteem it a condescension on his part. But I
hear that he will have to resign his profession. His
state of health is so bad, and a country life
is especially prescribed for him. I am in some hopes
of tempting him here, as I learn he has but
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little to depend on if he gives up his profession.
A Captain James, an invalid captain. You think I am
asking too great a favor, continued my lady. I could
never tell how far it was simplicity, or how far
a kind of innocent malice that made her misinterpret mister
Smithson's words and looks as she did. But he is
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not a post captain, only a commander, and his pension
will be but small. I may be able by offering
him country air and a healthy occupation. To restore him
to health occupation. My lady may I ask how a
sailor is to manage land? Why your tenants will laugh
and to scorn my tenants, I trust will not behave
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so ill as to laugh at any one I choose
to set over them. Captain James has had experience in
managing men. He has remarkable practical talents and great common sense,
as I hear from everyone. But whatever he may be,
the affair rests between him and myself. I can only
say I shall esteem myself fortunate if he comes. There
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was no more to be said after my lady spoke
in this manner. I had heard her mention Captain James
before as a middy who had been very kind to
her son Yurien. Although I thought I remembered then that
she had mentioned that his family circumstances were not very prosperous.
But I confess that little as I knew of the
management of land, I quite sided with mister Smithson. He
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violently prohibited from again speaking to my lady on the subject,
opened his mind to Miss Galindo, from whom I was
pretty sure to hear all the opinions and news of
the household in village. She had taken a great fancy
to me, because she said I talked so agreeably. I
believe it was because I listened so well. Well have
you heard the news she began about this captain James,
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a sailor with a wooden leg. I have no doubt
what would the poor dear deceased master have to say
to it if he had known who was to be
his successor? My dear, I have often thought of the
postman's bringing me a letter as one of the pleasures
I shall miss in heaven. But really I think mister
Horner may be thankful he has got out of the
reach of news, or else he would hear of mister
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Smithson's having made up through the Birmingham Baker, and of
his one legged captain coming to dot and go one
over the estate. I suppose he will look after the
laborers through a spyglass. I only hope you won't stick
in the mud with his wooden leg for all, I,
for one, won't help him out. Yes I would, she said,
correcting herself. I would for my lady's sake. But are
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you sure he has a wooden leg asked, I I
heard Lady Leglow tell mister Smithson about him, and she
only spoke of him as wounded. Wow, sails are almost
always wounded in the leg. Look at Greenwich Hospital, I
should say there were twenty one legged pensioners to one
without an arm there. But say he has got half
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a dozen legs, what has he to do with managing land?
I shall think him very impudent if he comes taking
advantage of my lady's kind heart. However, he did come
in a month from that time the carriage was sent
to meet Captain James, just as three years before it
had been sent to meet me. His coming had been
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so much talked about that we were all as curious
as possible to see him, and to know how so
unusual an experiment it seemed to us. Would answer, But
before I tell you anything about our new agent, I
must speak of something quite as interesting, and I really
think quite as important. And this was my lady's making
friends with Harry Gregson. I do believe she did it
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for mister Horner's sake, But of course I can only
conjecture why my lady did anything. But I heard one
day from Mary Legard that my lady had sent for
Harry to come and see her if he was well
enough to walk so far, And the next day he
was shown into the room he had been in once
before under such unlucky circumstances. The lad looked pale enough
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as he stood, propping himself on his crutch, and the
instant my lady saw him, she bade John Footman place
a stool for him to sit down upon while she
spoke to him. It might be his paleness that gave
his whole face a more refined and gentle look, But
I suspect it was that the boy was apt to
take impressions, and that mister Horner's grave dignified ways and
mister Gray's tender and quiet manners had altered him. And
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then the thoughts of illness and death seemed to turn
many of us into gentlemen and gentlewomen. As long as
such thoughts are in our minds, we cannot speak loudly
or angrily. At such times. We are not apt to
be eager about mere worldly things, For our very awe
at our own quickened sense of the nearness of the
invisible world makes us calm and serene about the petty
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trifles of today. At least I know that was the
explanation mister Gray once gave me of what we all
thought the great improvement in Harry Gregson's way of behaving.
My lady hesitated so long about what she had best
say that Harry grew a little frightened at her silence.
A few months ago it would have surprised me more
than it did now, But since my Lord her Son's death,
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she had seemed altered in many ways, more uncertain and
distrustful of herself as it were. At last, she said,
and I think there were tears in her eyes. My
poor little fellow, you have had a narrow escape with
your life since I saw you last. To this, there
was nothing to be said but yes, And again there
was silence, And you have lost a good kind friend
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to mister Warner. The boy's lips worked, and I think
he said, please don't, but I can't be sure. At
any rate, my lady went on, and so have I
a good kind friend. He was to both of us
and to you. He wished to show his kindness in
even a more generous way than he has done. Mister
Gray has told you about his legacy to you, has
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he not There was no sign of eager joy in
the lad's face, as if he realized the power and
pleasure of having what to him must have seemed like
a fortune. Mister Gray said, as how he left me
a matter of money. Yes, he has left you two
hundred pounds, but I would rather have had him alive,
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my lady. He burst out sobbing, as if his heart
would break. My lad, I believe you. We would rather
have our dead alive, would we not? And there is
nothing in money that can comfort us for their loss.
But you know, mister Gray has told you who has
appointed all our times to die. Mister Horner was a
(29:02):
good just man, and has done well and kindly both
by me and you. You perhaps do not know. And
now I understand what my lady has been making up
our mind to say to Harry all the time. She
was hesitating how to begin. That mister Horner at one
time meant to leave you a great deal more, probably
all he had, with the exception of a legacy to
(29:24):
his old clerk Morrison. But he knew that this estate
on which my forefathers had lived for six hundred years
was in debt, and that I had no immediate chance
of paying off this debt, and yet he felt that
it was a very sad thing for an old property
like this to belong in parts to those other men
(29:44):
who had lent the money. You understand me, I think,
my little man, she said, questioning Harry's face. He had
left off crying and was trying to understand with all
his might and main, and I think he had got
a pretty good general idea of the state of affairs.
Though so probably he was puzzled by the term the
estate being in debt. But he was sufficiently interested to
(30:06):
want my lady to go on, and he nodded his
head at her to signify this to her. So mister
Horner took the money which she had once meant to
be yours, and has left the greater part of it
to me, with the intention of helping me to pay
off this debt I have told you about. It will
go a long way, and I shall try hard to
(30:27):
save the rest, and then I shall die happy in
leaving the land free from debt, she paused. But I
shall not die happy in thinking of you. I do
not know of having money, or even having a great estate,
And much honor is a good thing for any of us.
But God sees fit that some of us should be
(30:47):
called to this condition, and it is our duty then
to stand by our posts like brave soldiers. Now, mister
Horner intended you to have this money first, I shall
only call it borrowing from you, Harry Gregson. If I
take it and use it to pay off the debt,
I shall pay mister Gray interest on this money, because
he is to stand as your guardian, as it were,
till you come of age, and he must fix what
(31:09):
ought to be done with it so as to fit
for you spending the principle rightly when the estate can
repay it to you. I suppose now it will be
right for you to be educated. That will be another
snare that will come with your money. But have courage, Harry.
Both education and money may be used rightly if we
(31:29):
only pray against the temptations they bring with them. Harry
could make no answer, though I am sure he understood
it all. My lady wanted to get him to talk
to her a little by way of becoming acquainted with
what was passing in his mind, and she asked him
what he would like to have done with his money,
if he could have part of it now to such
(31:51):
a simple question, involving no talk about feelings. His answer
came readily enough. Build a cottage for father with stares
in it, and give mister Gray schoolhouse. Oh, Father, do
so want mister Gray for to have his wish? Father
saw all the stones lying quarried in hewn in farmer
Hall's land. Mister Gray had paid for them all himself,
(32:11):
and Father said he would work night and day, and
little Tommy should carry mortar if the parson would let him.
Sooner than that he should be fretted and frabbed as
he was, with no one giving him a helping hand
or a kind word. Harry knew nothing of my lady's
part in the affair. That was very clear. My lady
kept silence. If I might have a piece of my money,
(32:31):
I would buy land from mister Brooks. He's got a
bit to sell, just at the corner of Hendon Lane,
and I would give it to mister Gray. And perhaps,
if your ladyship thinks I may be learned again, I
might grow up into the schoolmaster. You're a good boy,
said my lady. But there are more things to be
thought of in carrying out such a plan than you
are aware of. However, it shall be tried the school,
(32:58):
my lady, I exclaimed, almost thinking she did not know
what she was saying. Yes, the school, for mister Horner's sake,
for mister Gray's sake, and last, not least for this
lad's sake. I will give the new plan a trial.
Ask mister Gray to come up to me this afternoon
about the land he wants. He need not go to
(33:18):
a dissenter for it, and tell your father he shall
have a good share in the building of it, and
Tommy shall carry the mortar. And may I be schoolmaster,
asked Harry eagerly. We'll see about that, said my lady amused.
It will be some time before that plan comes to pass,
my little fellow. And now to return to Captain James.
(33:39):
My first account of him was from Miss Galindo. He's
not above thirty, and I must just pack up my
pens in my paper and be off, for it would
be the height of impropriety for me to be staying
here as his clerk. It was all very well in
the old master's days, but here I am not fifty
till next May. And this young unmarried man who is
(34:00):
not even a widower. Oh, there would be no end
of gossip. Besides, he looks as a skance at me
as I do at him. My black silk gown has
no effect. He's afraid I shall marry him, but I won't.
He may feel himself quite safe from that. And mister
Smithson has been recommending a clerk to my lady. She
would far rather keep me on. But I can't stop.
(34:21):
I really could not think it proper. What sort of
a looking man is he? Oh? Nothing particular, short and
brown and somber. I did not think it became me
to look at him. Well. Now, for the night caps,
I should have grudged anyone else doing them, for I
have got such a pretty pattern. But when it came
to Miss Galindo's leaving, there was a great misunderstanding between
(34:43):
her and my Lady. Miss Galindo had imagined that my
Lady had asked her as a favor to copy the
letters and enter the accounts, and had agreed to do
the work without the notion of being paid for doing so.
She had now and then grieved over a very profitable
order for needlework passing out of her hands on account
of her not having time to do it. Because of
her occupation at the hall. But she had never hinted
(35:03):
this to my lady, but gone on cheerfully at her
writing as long as her clerkship was required. My lady
was annoyed that she had not made her intention of
paying Miss Glindo more clear in the first conversation she
had had with her. But I suppose that she had
been too delicate to be very explicit with regard to
money matters. And now Miss Glindo is quite hurt at
my Lady's wanting to pay her for what she had
(35:25):
done in such write down goodwill, No, Miss Glindo, said
my own dear lady, you may be as angry with
me as you like, but don't offer me money. Think
of six and twenty years ago at my poor Arthur
and as you are to me then. Besides, I wanted money,
I don't disguise it for a particular purpose. And when
(35:46):
I found that, God bless you for asking me I
could do you a service. I turned it over on
my mind, and I gave up one plan and took
up another. And it's all settled. Now Bessie's to leave
school and come live with me. Don't please offer me
money again. You don't know how glad I have been
to do anything for you, have not I Margaret Dawson,
(36:08):
Did you not hear me say one day I would
cut off my hand for my lady, for I am
a stock of stone that I should forget kindness. Oh,
I have been so glad to work for you, And
now Bessie's coming here and no one knows anything about her,
as if she had done anything wrong. Poor child, My
dear Miss Galindo replied my lady, I will never ask
(36:29):
you to take money again. Only I thought it was
quite understood between us, And you know you have taken
money for a set of morning wrappers before. Now, yes,
my lady, but that was not confidential. Now, I was
so proud to have something to do for you confidentially.
But who is Bessie? Asked my lady. I do not
(36:51):
understand who she is or why she is to come
and live with you. Dear Miss Galindo, you must honor
me by being confidential with me in your turn. End
of chapter twelve. Recording by Adina Owen
Chapter twelve of My Lady Ludlow by Elizabeth Gaskell. This
is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
LibriVox dot org. Recording by Adina Owen. My Lady Ludlow
by Elizabeth Gaskell, Chapter twelve. I am ashamed to say
(00:25):
what feeling became strongest in my mind about this time,
next to the sympathy we all of us felt for
my dear lady in her deep sorrow. I mean, for
that was greater and stronger than anything else. However contradictory
you may think it when you hear all. It might
arise from my being so far from well at the time,
which produced a diseased mind and a diseased body. But
(00:48):
I was absolutely jealous for my father's memory when I
saw how many signs of grief there were for my
lord's death, he having done next to nothing for the
village and parish, which now changed, as it were, its
daily life because his lordship died in a far off city.
My father had spent the best years of his manhood
(01:08):
in laboring hard body and soul for the people amongst
whom he lived. His family, of course claimed the first
place in his heart. He would have been good for little,
even in the way of benevolence, if they had not,
but close after them, he cared for his parishioners and neighbors.
And yet when he died that the church bells told
(01:29):
and smote upon our hearts with hard, fresh pain at
every beat, the sounds of everyday life still went on,
close pressing around us. Carts and carriages, street cries, distant
barrel organs. The kindly neighbors kept them out of our
street life. Active noisy life pressed on our acute consciousness
(01:51):
of death, and jarred upon it as on a quick nerve.
And when we went to church, my father's own church,
though the pulpit cushions were black, and many of the
congregation had put on some humble sign of mourning, yet
it did not alter the whole material aspect of the place.
And yet what was Lord Ludlow's relation to Hanbury compared
(02:12):
to my father's work and place? And oh, it was
very wicked in me. I think if I had seen
my lady, if I had dared to ask to go
to her, I should not have felt so miserable, so discontented.
But she sat in her own room, hung with black
all even over the shutters. She saw no light but
that which was artificial candles, lamps and the like. For
(02:35):
more than a month, only Adams went near her. Mister
Gray was not admitted, though he called daily. Even Missus
Medlicott did not see her for near a fortnight. The
sight of my lady's griefs, or rather the recollection of it,
made Missus Medlicott talk far more than was her wont
She told us with many tears and much gesticulation, even
(02:57):
speaking German at times when her English would not That
my lady sat there, a white figure in the middle
of the darkened room, a shaded lamp near her, the
light of which fell on an open bible, the Great
Family Bible. It was not open to any chapter or
consoling verse, but at the page whereon were registered the
(03:17):
births of her nine children. Five had died in infancy,
sacrificed to the cruel system which forbade the mother to
suckle her babies. Four had lived longer. Urian had been
the first to die, ug Tred Mortimer Earl Ludlow the last.
My lady did not cry. Missus Medlicott said she was
(03:37):
quite composed, very still, very silent. She put aside everything
that savored of mere business, sent people to mister Horner
for that. But she was proudly alive to every possible
form which might do honor to the last of her race.
In those days, expresses were slow things, and forms still slower.
(03:58):
Before my lady's directions could reach Vienna, my lord was buried.
Then there was some talk, so Missus Medlicott said about
taking the body up and bringing him to Hanbury, but
his executors, connections to the Ludlow Side, demurred to this.
If he were removed to England, he must be carried
on to Scotland and interred with his Monkshaven forefathers. My lady,
(04:19):
deeply hurt, withdrew from the discussion before it degenerated to
an unseemly contest. But all the more for this understood
mortification of my ladies. Did the whole village, in a
state of Hanbury assume every outward sign of mourning. The
church bells told morning and evening. The church itself was
draped in black. Inside, hatchments were placed everywhere where hatchments
(04:40):
could be put all the tenantry spoke in hushed voices
for more than a week, scarcely daring to observe that
all flesh, even that of an earl Ludlow and the
last of the Hanburys, was but grass. After all, the
very fighting lion closed its front door front shutters it
had none, and those who needed drinks stolen at the
back and were silent and maudlin over their cups instead
(05:02):
of riotous and noisy. Miss Galindo's eyes were swollen up
with crying, and she told me, with a fresh burst
of tears that even humpbacked Sally had been found sobbing
over her bible and using a pocket handkerchief for the
first time in her life, her aprons having hitherto stood
her in the necessary stead, but not being sufficiently in
accordance with etiquette to be used when morning over an
(05:23):
earl's premature decease. If it was this way out of
the hall, you might work it by the rule of three,
as Miss Galindo used to say, and judge what it was.
In the hall. We none of us spoke, but in
a whisper. We tried not to eat, And indeed the
shock had been still really great and we did really
care so much for my lady that for some days
(05:45):
we had but little appetite. But after that I fear
our sympathy grew weaker, while our flesh grew stronger. But
we still spoke low, and our hearts ached. Whenever we
thought of my lady sitting there alone in the darkened room,
with the light ever falling on that one solemn page,
we wished, oh how I wished that she would see
(06:05):
mister Gray. But Adams said she thought my lady ought
to have a bishop come to see her. Still no
one had authority enough to send for one. Mister Horner
all this time was suffering as much as anyone. He
was too faithful a servant of the great Hanbury family,
though now the family had dwindled down to a fragile
old lady, not to mourn acutely over its probable extinction.
(06:27):
He had, besides a deeper sympathy and reverence with and
for my lady in all things than probably he cared
ever to show, for his manners were always measured and cold.
He suffered from sorrow, he also suffered from wrong. My
Lord's executors kept writing to him continually. My lady refused
to listen to mere business, saying she entrusted all to him,
(06:49):
but the all was more complicated than I ever thoroughly understood.
As far as I comprehended the case, it was something
of this kind. There had been a mortgage raised on
my lady's property of Hanbury to enable my Lord her
husband to spend money in cultivating his Scotch estates after
some new fashion that required a capital. As long as
my Lord her son lived, who was to succeed both
(07:12):
the estates after her death. This did not signify, so
she had said and felt. And she had refused to
take any steps to secure the repayment of capital, or
even the payment of the interest of the mortgage from
the possible representatives and possessors of the Scotch estates to
the possible owner of the Hanbury property, saying it ill
became her to calculate on the contingency of her son's death.
(07:34):
But he had died childless, unmarried. The heir of Monkshaven
property was an Edinburgh advocate, a faraway kinsman of my lord's.
The Hanbury property at my lady's death would go to
the descendants of a third son of the Squire Hanbury
in the days of Queen Anne. This complication of affairs
was most grievous to mister Horner. He had always been
(07:54):
opposed to the mortgage, had hated the payment of the
interest as obliging my lady to practice certain economies, which,
though she took care to make them as personal as possible,
he disliked his derogatory to the family. Poor mister Horner.
He was so cold and hard in his manner, so
curt and decisive in his speech, that I don't think
we any of us did him justice. Miss Galindo was
(08:16):
almost the first at this time to speak a kind
word of him, or to take thought of him at all,
any farther than to get out of his way when
we saw him approaching. I don't think mister Horner is well,
she said one day, about three weeks after we had
heard of my lord's death. He says, resting his head
on his hands, and hardly hears me when I speak
to him. But I thought no more of it, as
(08:38):
Miss Galindo did not name it again. My lady came
amongst us once more. From elderly she had become old,
a little, frail old lady in heavy, black drapery, never
speaking about nor alluding to her great sorrow, quieter, gentler,
paler than ever before, and her eyes dim with much weeping,
(08:58):
never witnessed by mortal. She had seen mister Gray the
expiration of the month of deep retirement. But I do
not think that even to him she had said one
word of her own particular individual sorrow. All mention of
it seemed to be buried deep for evermore. One day
mister Horner sent word that he was too much indisposed
(09:19):
to attend to his usual business at the hall, but
he wrote down some directions and requests to Miss Glindo,
saying that he would be at his office early the
next morning. The next morning he was dead. Miss Galindo
told my lady. Miss Galindo herself cried plentifully, but my lady,
although very much distressed, could not cry. It seemed a
(09:40):
physical impossibility, as if she had shed all the tears
in her power. Moreover, I almost think her wonder was
far greater that she herself lived than that mister Horner died.
It was almost natural that so faithful a servant should
break his heart when the family he belonged to lost
their stay their heir and their last hope. Yes, mister
(10:01):
Horner was a faithful servant. I do not think there
are so many faithful now, but perhaps that is an
old woman's fancy of mine. When his will came to
be examined, it was discovered that soon after Harry Gregson's accident,
mister Horner had left the few thousands three I think
of which he was possessed in trust for Harry's benefit,
desiring his executors to see that the lad was well
(10:23):
educated in certain things for which mister Horner had thought
that he had shown a special aptitude. And there was
a kind of implied apology to my lady in one sentence,
where he stated that Harry's lameness would prevent his being
ever able to gain his living by the exercise of
any mere bodily faculties as had been wished by a
lady whose wishes he the test dator, was bound to regard.
(10:46):
But there was a codicil in the will, dated since
Lord Ludlow's death, feebly written by mister Horner himself, as
if in preparation only for some more formal manner of bequest,
or perhaps only as a mere temporary arrangement till he
could see a lawyer and have a fresh will made.
In this he revoked his previous bequest to Harry Gregson.
(11:07):
He only left two hundred pounds to mister Gray, to
be used as the gentleman thought best for Henry Gregson's benefit.
With this one exception, he bequeathed all the rest of
his savings to my lady, with a hope that they
might form an est egg, as it were, toward paying
off the mortgage which had been such a grief to
him during his life. I may not repeat all this
(11:29):
in lawyer's phrase. I heard it through Miss Galindo, and
she might make mistakes, though indeed she was very clear
headed and soon earned the respect of mister Smithson, the
lady's lawyer from Warwick. Mister Smithson knew Miss Galindo a
little before, both personally and by reputation, but I don't
think he was prepared to find her installed as Stewart's clerk,
(11:50):
and at first he was inclined to treat her in
this capacity with polite contempt. But Miss Galindo was both
a lady and a spirited sense of woman, and she
could put aside her self indulgence in eccentricity of speech
and manner. Whenever she chose nay more. She was usually
so talkative that, if she had not been amusing and
(12:11):
warm hearted, one might have thought her weir sum occasionally,
but to meet mister Smithson, she came out daily in
her Sunday gown. She said no more than was required
an answer to his questions. Her books and papers were
in thorough order, and methodically kept her statements of matters
of fact accurate and to be relied upon. She was
amusingly conscious of her victory over his contempt of a
(12:34):
woman clerk and his preconceived opinion of her unpractical eccentricity.
Let me alone, she said one day, when she came
in to sit awhile with me. That man is a
good man, a sensible man, and I have no doubt
he is a good lawyer, but he can't fathom women. Yet,
I make no doubt he'll go back to Warwick and
(12:54):
never give me credit again to those people who made
him think me half cracked to begin with. Oh, my
dear he did. He showed it twenty times worse than
my poor dear master ever did. It was a form
to be gone through to please my lady, and for
her sake, he would hear my statements and see my books.
It was keeping a woman out of harm's way at
(13:15):
any rate, to let her fancy herself useful. I read
the man, and I am thankful to say he cannot
read me at least only one side of me. When
I see an end to be gained, I can behave
myself accordingly. Here was a man who thought that a
woman in a black silk gown was a respectable, orderly
(13:35):
kind of person, and I was a woman in a
black silk gown. He believed that a woman could not
write straight lines, and required a man to tell her
that two and two made four. I was not above
ruling my books, and had cocker a little more at
my fingers ends than he had. But my greatest triumph
has been holding my tongue. He would have thought nothing
(13:56):
of my books, or my sums, or my black silk
gown if I had spoken unasked. So I have buried
more since in my bosom these ten days than ever
I have uttered in the whole course of my life. Before.
I have been so curt so abrupt, so abominably dull,
that I'll answer for it. He thinks me worthy to
(14:18):
be a man. But I must go back to him,
my dear, So goodbye to conversation and you. But though
mister Smithson might be satisfied with Miss Galindo, I am
afraid she was the only part of the affair with
which he was content. Everything else went wrong. I could
not say who told me so, But the conviction of
(14:39):
this seemed to pervade the house. I never knew how
much we had all looked up to the silent gruff
mister Horner for decisions until he was gone. My lady
herself was a pretty good woman of business, as women
of business go. Her father, seeing that she would be
the heiress of the Hanbury property, had given her a training,
which was not unusual in those days. She liked to
(15:00):
feel herself queen regnant and to have to decide in
all cases between herself and her tenantry. But perhaps mister
Horner would have done it more wisely. Not but what
she had always attended to him. At last, she would
begin by saying pretty clearly and promptly, what she would
have done and what she would not have done if
(15:21):
mister Horner approved of it. He bowed instead about obeying
her directly if he disapproved of it. He bowed and
lingered so long before he obeyed her that she forced
his opinion out of him with her Well, mister Horner,
and what have you to say against it? For she
always understood his silence as well as if he had spoken.
(15:42):
But the estate was pressed for ready money, and mister
Horner had grown gloomy in languid since the death of
his wife, and even his own personal affairs were not
in the order in which they had been a year
or two before. For his old clerk had gradually become superannuated,
or at any rate unable by the superfluity of his
own energy and wit to say supply the spirit that
was wanting in mister Horner. Day after day, mister Smithson
(16:05):
seemed to grow more fidgety, more annoyed at the state
of affairs, like everyone else employed by Lady Ludlow. As
far as I could learn, he had a hereditary tie
to the Hanbury family. As long as the Smithsons had
been lawyers, they had been lawyers to the Hanburys, always
coming in on all great family occasions, and better able
to understand the characters and connect the links of what
had once been a large and scattered family than any
(16:28):
individual thereof had ever been as long as a man
was at the head of the Hanburys. The lawyers had
simply acted as servants and had only given their advice
when it was required, But they had assumed a different position.
On the memorable occasion of the mortgage, they had remonstrated
against it. My lady had resented this remonstrance, and a
(16:48):
slight unspoken coolness had existed between her and the father
of this mister Smithson, ever since. I was very sorry
for my lady. Mister Smithson was inclined to blame mister
Horner for the disorderly state in which he found some
of the outlying farms, and for the deficiencies in the
annual payment of rents. Mister Smithson had too much good
(17:09):
feeling to put this blame into words. But my lady's
quick instinct led her to reply to a thought the
existence of which she perceived, and she quickly told the
truth and explained how she had interfered repeatedly to prevent
mister Horner from taking certain desirable steps which were discordant
to her hereditary sense of right and wrong between landlord
(17:30):
and tenant. She also spoke of the want of ready
money as a misfortune that could be remedied by more
economical personal expenditure on her own part, by which individual
saving it was possible that a reduction of fifty pounds
a year might have been accomplished. But as soon as
mister Smithson touched on larger economies, such as either affected
the welfare of others or the honor and standing of
(17:51):
the Great House of Hanbury, she was inflexible. Her establishment
consisted of somewhere about forty servants, of whom nearly as
many as twenty were unable to perform their work properly,
and yet would have been hurt if they had been dismissed.
So they had the credit of fulfilling duties while my
lady paid and kept their substitutes. Mister Smithson made a
(18:13):
calculation and would have saved some hundreds a year by
pensioning off these old servants, but my lady would not
hear of it. Then again, I know privately that he
urged her to allow some of us to return to
our homes. Bitterly. We should have regretted the separation from
Lady Ludlow, But we would have gone back gladly had
we known at the time that her circumstances required it.
(18:34):
But she would not listen to the proposal for a moment.
If I cannot act justly towards everyone, I will give
up a plan which has been a source of much satisfaction.
At least I will not carry it out to such
an extent in future. But to these young ladies who
do me the favor to live with me at present,
(18:56):
I stand pledged. I cannot go back for my word,
Missus Smithson, we had better talk no more of this.
As she spoke, she entered the room where I lay.
She and mister Smithson were coming for some papers contained
in the bureau. They did not know I was there,
and mister Smithson started a little when he saw me,
as he must have been aware that I had overheard something.
(19:18):
But my lady did not change a muscle of her face.
All the world might overhear her kind just pure sayings,
and she had no fear of their misconstruction. She came
up to me and kissed me on the forehead, and
then went to search for the required papers. I rode
over the Connington Farms yesterday, my lady, I must say
I was quite grieved to see the condition there in
(19:40):
all the land that is not waste is utterly exhausted
with working successive white crops, not a pinch of manure
laid on the ground for years. I must say that
a greater contrast could never have been presented from that
between Harding's farm and the next field, fences in perfect order, rotation, crops,
sheeps eating down the turn on the wastelands, everything that
(20:02):
could be desired. Whose farm is that, asked my lady? Why?
I am sorry to say it was on none of
your ladyships that I saw such good methods adopted. I
hoped it was. I stopped my horse to inquire. A
queer looking man, sitting on his horse like a tailor,
watching his men with a couple of the sharpest eyes
(20:23):
I ever saw, and dropping his ages at every word,
answered my question and told me it was his. I
could not go on asking him who he was, but
I fell into conversation with him and gathered that he
had earned some money in trade in Birmingham and had
bought the estate five hundred acres I think, he said,
on which he was born, and now was setting himself
(20:45):
to cultivate it in downright earnest, going to Holcombe and
Woolburn and half the county over to get himself up
on the subject. It would be brooke, that dissenting bagger
from Birmingham, said my lady in her most ice tone,
mister Smithson, I am sorry I have been detaining you
so long, but I think these are the letters you
(21:07):
wished to see. If her ladyship thought by this speech
to quench mister Smithson, she was mistaken. Mister Smithson just
looked at the letters and went on with the old subject. Now,
my lady, it struck me that if you had such
a man to take poor Horner's place, he would work
the rents on the land round most satisfactorily. I should
(21:28):
not despair of inducing this very man to undertake the work.
I should not mind speaking to him myself on the subject,
for we got capital friends over a snack of luncheon
that he asked me to share with him. Lady Ludlow
fixed her eyes on mister Smithson as he spoke, and
never took them off his face until he had ended.
She was silent a minute before she answered, you are
(21:51):
very good mister Smithson, but I need not trouble you
with any such arrangements. I am going to write this
afternoon to Captain James, of one of my sons, who
has I hear been severely wounded at Trafalgar, to request
him to honor me by accepting mister Horner's situation. A
(22:12):
Captain James, a captain in the navy, going to manage
for ladyship's a state. If you be so kind, I
shall esteem it a condescension on his part. But I
hear that he will have to resign his profession. His
state of health is so bad, and a country life
is especially prescribed for him. I am in some hopes
of tempting him here, as I learn he has but
(22:34):
little to depend on if he gives up his profession.
A Captain James, an invalid captain. You think I am
asking too great a favor, continued my lady. I could
never tell how far it was simplicity, or how far
a kind of innocent malice that made her misinterpret mister
Smithson's words and looks as she did. But he is
(22:55):
not a post captain, only a commander, and his pension
will be but small. I may be able by offering
him country air and a healthy occupation. To restore him
to health occupation. My lady may I ask how a
sailor is to manage land? Why your tenants will laugh
and to scorn my tenants, I trust will not behave
(23:17):
so ill as to laugh at any one I choose
to set over them. Captain James has had experience in
managing men. He has remarkable practical talents and great common sense,
as I hear from everyone. But whatever he may be,
the affair rests between him and myself. I can only
say I shall esteem myself fortunate if he comes. There
(23:38):
was no more to be said after my lady spoke
in this manner. I had heard her mention Captain James
before as a middy who had been very kind to
her son Yurien. Although I thought I remembered then that
she had mentioned that his family circumstances were not very prosperous.
But I confess that little as I knew of the
management of land, I quite sided with mister Smithson. He
(24:00):
violently prohibited from again speaking to my lady on the subject,
opened his mind to Miss Galindo, from whom I was
pretty sure to hear all the opinions and news of
the household in village. She had taken a great fancy
to me, because she said I talked so agreeably. I
believe it was because I listened so well. Well have
you heard the news she began about this captain James,
(24:23):
a sailor with a wooden leg. I have no doubt
what would the poor dear deceased master have to say
to it if he had known who was to be
his successor? My dear, I have often thought of the
postman's bringing me a letter as one of the pleasures
I shall miss in heaven. But really I think mister
Horner may be thankful he has got out of the
reach of news, or else he would hear of mister
(24:44):
Smithson's having made up through the Birmingham Baker, and of
his one legged captain coming to dot and go one
over the estate. I suppose he will look after the
laborers through a spyglass. I only hope you won't stick
in the mud with his wooden leg for all, I,
for one, won't help him out. Yes I would, she said,
correcting herself. I would for my lady's sake. But are
(25:08):
you sure he has a wooden leg asked, I I
heard Lady Leglow tell mister Smithson about him, and she
only spoke of him as wounded. Wow, sails are almost
always wounded in the leg. Look at Greenwich Hospital, I
should say there were twenty one legged pensioners to one
without an arm there. But say he has got half
(25:29):
a dozen legs, what has he to do with managing land?
I shall think him very impudent if he comes taking
advantage of my lady's kind heart. However, he did come
in a month from that time the carriage was sent
to meet Captain James, just as three years before it
had been sent to meet me. His coming had been
(25:51):
so much talked about that we were all as curious
as possible to see him, and to know how so
unusual an experiment it seemed to us. Would answer, But
before I tell you anything about our new agent, I
must speak of something quite as interesting, and I really
think quite as important. And this was my lady's making
friends with Harry Gregson. I do believe she did it
(26:12):
for mister Horner's sake, But of course I can only
conjecture why my lady did anything. But I heard one
day from Mary Legard that my lady had sent for
Harry to come and see her if he was well
enough to walk so far, And the next day he
was shown into the room he had been in once
before under such unlucky circumstances. The lad looked pale enough
(26:32):
as he stood, propping himself on his crutch, and the
instant my lady saw him, she bade John Footman place
a stool for him to sit down upon while she
spoke to him. It might be his paleness that gave
his whole face a more refined and gentle look, But
I suspect it was that the boy was apt to
take impressions, and that mister Horner's grave dignified ways and
mister Gray's tender and quiet manners had altered him. And
(26:54):
then the thoughts of illness and death seemed to turn
many of us into gentlemen and gentlewomen. As long as
such thoughts are in our minds, we cannot speak loudly
or angrily. At such times. We are not apt to
be eager about mere worldly things, For our very awe
at our own quickened sense of the nearness of the
invisible world makes us calm and serene about the petty
(27:14):
trifles of today. At least I know that was the
explanation mister Gray once gave me of what we all
thought the great improvement in Harry Gregson's way of behaving.
My lady hesitated so long about what she had best
say that Harry grew a little frightened at her silence.
A few months ago it would have surprised me more
than it did now, But since my Lord her Son's death,
(27:37):
she had seemed altered in many ways, more uncertain and
distrustful of herself as it were. At last, she said,
and I think there were tears in her eyes. My
poor little fellow, you have had a narrow escape with
your life since I saw you last. To this, there
was nothing to be said but yes, And again there
was silence, And you have lost a good kind friend
(27:59):
to mister Warner. The boy's lips worked, and I think
he said, please don't, but I can't be sure. At
any rate, my lady went on, and so have I
a good kind friend. He was to both of us
and to you. He wished to show his kindness in
even a more generous way than he has done. Mister
Gray has told you about his legacy to you, has
(28:19):
he not There was no sign of eager joy in
the lad's face, as if he realized the power and
pleasure of having what to him must have seemed like
a fortune. Mister Gray said, as how he left me
a matter of money. Yes, he has left you two
hundred pounds, but I would rather have had him alive,
(28:41):
my lady. He burst out sobbing, as if his heart
would break. My lad, I believe you. We would rather
have our dead alive, would we not? And there is
nothing in money that can comfort us for their loss.
But you know, mister Gray has told you who has
appointed all our times to die. Mister Horner was a
(29:02):
good just man, and has done well and kindly both
by me and you. You perhaps do not know. And
now I understand what my lady has been making up
our mind to say to Harry all the time. She
was hesitating how to begin. That mister Horner at one
time meant to leave you a great deal more, probably
all he had, with the exception of a legacy to
(29:24):
his old clerk Morrison. But he knew that this estate
on which my forefathers had lived for six hundred years
was in debt, and that I had no immediate chance
of paying off this debt, and yet he felt that
it was a very sad thing for an old property
like this to belong in parts to those other men
(29:44):
who had lent the money. You understand me, I think,
my little man, she said, questioning Harry's face. He had
left off crying and was trying to understand with all
his might and main, and I think he had got
a pretty good general idea of the state of affairs.
Though so probably he was puzzled by the term the
estate being in debt. But he was sufficiently interested to
(30:06):
want my lady to go on, and he nodded his
head at her to signify this to her. So mister
Horner took the money which she had once meant to
be yours, and has left the greater part of it
to me, with the intention of helping me to pay
off this debt I have told you about. It will
go a long way, and I shall try hard to
(30:27):
save the rest, and then I shall die happy in
leaving the land free from debt, she paused. But I
shall not die happy in thinking of you. I do
not know of having money, or even having a great estate,
And much honor is a good thing for any of us.
But God sees fit that some of us should be
(30:47):
called to this condition, and it is our duty then
to stand by our posts like brave soldiers. Now, mister
Horner intended you to have this money first, I shall
only call it borrowing from you, Harry Gregson. If I
take it and use it to pay off the debt,
I shall pay mister Gray interest on this money, because
he is to stand as your guardian, as it were,
till you come of age, and he must fix what
(31:09):
ought to be done with it so as to fit
for you spending the principle rightly when the estate can
repay it to you. I suppose now it will be
right for you to be educated. That will be another
snare that will come with your money. But have courage, Harry.
Both education and money may be used rightly if we
(31:29):
only pray against the temptations they bring with them. Harry
could make no answer, though I am sure he understood
it all. My lady wanted to get him to talk
to her a little by way of becoming acquainted with
what was passing in his mind, and she asked him
what he would like to have done with his money,
if he could have part of it now to such
(31:51):
a simple question, involving no talk about feelings. His answer
came readily enough. Build a cottage for father with stares
in it, and give mister Gray schoolhouse. Oh, Father, do
so want mister Gray for to have his wish? Father
saw all the stones lying quarried in hewn in farmer
Hall's land. Mister Gray had paid for them all himself,
(32:11):
and Father said he would work night and day, and
little Tommy should carry mortar if the parson would let him.
Sooner than that he should be fretted and frabbed as
he was, with no one giving him a helping hand
or a kind word. Harry knew nothing of my lady's
part in the affair. That was very clear. My lady
kept silence. If I might have a piece of my money,
(32:31):
I would buy land from mister Brooks. He's got a
bit to sell, just at the corner of Hendon Lane,
and I would give it to mister Gray. And perhaps,
if your ladyship thinks I may be learned again, I
might grow up into the schoolmaster. You're a good boy,
said my lady. But there are more things to be
thought of in carrying out such a plan than you
are aware of. However, it shall be tried the school,
(32:58):
my lady, I exclaimed, almost thinking she did not know
what she was saying. Yes, the school, for mister Horner's sake,
for mister Gray's sake, and last, not least for this
lad's sake. I will give the new plan a trial.
Ask mister Gray to come up to me this afternoon
about the land he wants. He need not go to
(33:18):
a dissenter for it, and tell your father he shall
have a good share in the building of it, and
Tommy shall carry the mortar. And may I be schoolmaster,
asked Harry eagerly. We'll see about that, said my lady amused.
It will be some time before that plan comes to pass,
my little fellow. And now to return to Captain James.
(33:39):
My first account of him was from Miss Galindo. He's
not above thirty, and I must just pack up my
pens in my paper and be off, for it would
be the height of impropriety for me to be staying
here as his clerk. It was all very well in
the old master's days, but here I am not fifty
till next May. And this young unmarried man who is
(34:00):
not even a widower. Oh, there would be no end
of gossip. Besides, he looks as a skance at me
as I do at him. My black silk gown has
no effect. He's afraid I shall marry him, but I won't.
He may feel himself quite safe from that. And mister
Smithson has been recommending a clerk to my lady. She
would far rather keep me on. But I can't stop.
(34:21):
I really could not think it proper. What sort of
a looking man is he? Oh? Nothing particular, short and
brown and somber. I did not think it became me
to look at him. Well. Now, for the night caps,
I should have grudged anyone else doing them, for I
have got such a pretty pattern. But when it came
to Miss Galindo's leaving, there was a great misunderstanding between
(34:43):
her and my Lady. Miss Galindo had imagined that my
Lady had asked her as a favor to copy the
letters and enter the accounts, and had agreed to do
the work without the notion of being paid for doing so.
She had now and then grieved over a very profitable
order for needlework passing out of her hands on account
of her not having time to do it. Because of
her occupation at the hall. But she had never hinted
(35:03):
this to my lady, but gone on cheerfully at her
writing as long as her clerkship was required. My lady
was annoyed that she had not made her intention of
paying Miss Glindo more clear in the first conversation she
had had with her. But I suppose that she had
been too delicate to be very explicit with regard to
money matters. And now Miss Glindo is quite hurt at
my Lady's wanting to pay her for what she had
(35:25):
done in such write down goodwill, No, Miss Glindo, said
my own dear lady, you may be as angry with
me as you like, but don't offer me money. Think
of six and twenty years ago at my poor Arthur
and as you are to me then. Besides, I wanted money,
I don't disguise it for a particular purpose. And when
(35:46):
I found that, God bless you for asking me I
could do you a service. I turned it over on
my mind, and I gave up one plan and took
up another. And it's all settled. Now Bessie's to leave
school and come live with me. Don't please offer me
money again. You don't know how glad I have been
to do anything for you, have not I Margaret Dawson,
(36:08):
Did you not hear me say one day I would
cut off my hand for my lady, for I am
a stock of stone that I should forget kindness. Oh,
I have been so glad to work for you, And
now Bessie's coming here and no one knows anything about her,
as if she had done anything wrong. Poor child, My
dear Miss Galindo replied my lady, I will never ask
(36:29):
you to take money again. Only I thought it was
quite understood between us, And you know you have taken
money for a set of morning wrappers before. Now, yes,
my lady, but that was not confidential. Now, I was
so proud to have something to do for you confidentially.
But who is Bessie? Asked my lady. I do not
(36:51):
understand who she is or why she is to come
and live with you. Dear Miss Galindo, you must honor
me by being confidential with me in your turn. End
of chapter twelve. Recording by Adina Owen
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