and the paddock, the old tree over the west gable where the
owl made his nest--the owl that used to come and sit on our school-room
windowsill and hoot at night. You know, the sun-dial where the screaming
peacock used to perch and spread his tail; the dove-cote, where the
silver-necks and fan-tails used to coo and ruffle their feathers. You
know, too, all the quaint plannings and accidents of the old house; how
the fiery creeper ran riot through the ivy on the dark walls, dangling
its burning wreaths over the windows; how the hall door lay open all day
with the dogs sleeping on the broad door-step. Also, within, that there
were long dark passages, rooms with low ceilings; a step up here, and a
step down there; fireplaces twisted into odd corners, narrow pointed
windows, and wide latticed ones. You know all the household recesses,
the dairies and pantries and store-rooms; but you cannot know how Mrs.
Hollingford toiled amongst them, filling them with her industry one day
that they might be emptied the next; hardening her delicate hands with
labour to the end that justice might be done, that some who had lost
might gain, that a portion of her husband's heavy debts might be paid,
and a portion of the curse of the impoverished lifted from his guilty
shoulders.
No luxury was ever permitted in that household. Old gowns were worn and
mended till they could be worn and mended no longer. The girls were of
an age to go abroad to school, but they must be contented with such
education as they could pick up at home, so long as one poor creature
suffered straits through their father's fault. The only indulgence
allowed was almsgiving. Mopsie might divide her dinner with a hungry
child, or Jane bestow her new petticoat on an aged woman; but they must,
in consequence, deny themselves and suffer inconvenience till such time
as it came to be again their turn to have their absolute wants relieved.
I did, indeed, feel like a drone in a hive when, on leaving my room in
the mornings, I met Mrs. Hollingford coming from her work in the dairy,
John Hollingford arriving from his early visit to a distant part of the
farm, Jane from her sewing closet where she made and mended the linen of
the household, and Mopsie from the kitchen with a piled dish of
breakfast-cakes, showing what her morning task had been. I could not eat
for envy. Why could I not be of use to somebody? I gave Mopsie some gay
ribbons, which were returned to me by her mother. N
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