The Hallam Succession - Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (chromebook ebook reader TXT) 📗

the men were as hard as their wives. They had resented the fact of a woman being set among the ranks of great English squires; but having been put there, they expected from her virtues of far more illustrious character than they would have demanded from a man. "For whativer can a woman need wi' so much brass?" asked Squire Horton, indignantly. "She doesn't hunt, and she can't run for t' county, and what better could she hev done than clear an old Yorkshire name o' its dirty trade stain. I'll lay a five-pound note as Squire Henry left her all for t' varry purpose. He nivver thought much o' his son Antony's fine schemes."

"There's them as thinks he left her Hallam to prevent Antony wearing it on his creditors."

"There's them thet thinks evil o' God Almighty himsen, Thomas Baxter. Henry Hallam was a gentleman to t' bone. He'd hev paid ivery shilling afore this if he'd been alive. Yorkshire squires like their own, but they don't want what belongs to other folk; not they. Squire Hallam was one o' t' best of us. He was that."

And though Elizabeth had expected nothing better from her neighbors, their continued coldness hurt her. Who of us is there that has not experienced that painful surprise that the repulsion of others awakens in our hearts? We feel kindly to them, but they draw back their hand from us; an antipathy estranges them, they pass us by. What avail is it to tell them that appearances deceive, that calumny has done us wrong? What good is it to defend ourself, when no one cares to listen? when we are condemned before we have spoken? Nothing is so cruel as prejudice; she is blind and deaf; she shuts her eyes purposely, that she may stab boldly; for she knows, if she were to look honestly at her victim, she could not do it.

But O, it is from these desolate places that heart-cry comes which brings God out of his sanctuary, which calls Jesus to our side to walk there with us. It is in the deserts we have met angels. A great trial is almost a necessity for a true Christian life; for faith needs a soil that has been deeply plowed. The seed cast upon the surface rarely finds the circumstances that are sufficient for its development. And blessed also are those souls to whom the "long watches" of sorrow are given! It is a great, soul that is capable of long-continued suffering, and that can bring to it day after day a heart at once submissive and energetic and all vibrating with hope.

Yet it may be fairly said that Elizabeth Hallam was now upon this plane. Her road was still rough, but she was traveling in the daylight, strong and cheerful, and very happy in the added pleasure of her life. Her five years of enforced poverty had taught her simple habits. She felt rich with the L800 yearly rental of the home farm. And it was such a delight to have Harry ride by her side; she was so proud of the fair, bright boy. She loved him so dearly. He had just begun to study two hours every day with the curate, and to the two women at the hall it was a great event every morning to watch him away to the village on his pony, with his books in a leather strap hung at his saddle-bow. They followed him with their eyes until a turn in the road hid the white nag and the little figure in a blue velvet suit upon it from them. For it was Elizabeth's pride to dress the child daintily and richly as the "young squire of Hallam" ought to dress. She cut up gladly her own velvets for that purpose, and Martha considered the clear-starching of his lace collars and ruffles one of her most important duties.

One morning, at the close of January, Elizabeth had to go to the village, and she told Harry when his lessons were finished to wait at the Curate's until she called for him. It was an exquisite day; cold, but clear and sunny, and there was a particular joy in rapid riding on such a morning. They took a circuitous route home, a road which led them through lonely country lanes and across some fields. The robins were singing a little, and the wrens twittering about the hawthorn berries on the bare hedges. Elizabeth and Harry rode rapidly, their horses' feet and their merry laughter making a cheery racket in the lanes. They reached the hall gates in a glow of spirits. Martha was standing there, her round rosy face all smiles. She said little to Elizabeth, but she whispered something to Harry, and took him away with her.

"Martha! Martha!" cried Elizabeth, "you will spoil the boy, and make him sick. What dainty have you ready for him? Cannot I share it? I am hungry enough, I can tell you!"

Martha laughed and shook her head, and Elizabeth, after a word to the groom, went into the parlor. The angels that loved her must have followed her there. They would desire to see her joy. For there, with glowing, tender face, stood Richard. She asked no questions. She spoke no word at all. She went straight to the arms outstretched to clasp her. She felt his tears, mingling with her own. She heard her name break softly in two the kisses that said what last the hour for which she had hoped and prayed so many years.

And Richard could hardly believe in his joy. This splendid Elizabeth of twenty-eight, in all the glory and radiance of her calmed and chastened soul, and her perfected womanhood, was infinitely more charming and lovable than he had ever seen her before. He told her so in glad and happy words, and Elizabeth listened, proud and well-contented with his praise. For an hour he would not suffer her to leave him; yes, it took him an hour, to tell her how well she looked in her riding-dress.

Neither of them spoke of the events which had separated or re-united them. It was enough that they were together. They perfectly trusted each other without explanations. Those could come afterward, but this day was too fair for any memory of sorrow. When Elizabeth came down to dinner she found Harry standing at Richard's knee, explaining to him the lessons he was studying. Her eyes took in with light the picture--the thoughtful gentleness of the dark head, the rosy face of the fair-haired boy.

"I have been showing the gentleman my new book, aunt;" then he bowed to Richard, and, gently removing himself from his arm, went to his aunt's side.

"He says he is called Henry Hallam."

"Yes, he is my brother's only child."

And Richard dropped his eyes; and, turning the subject, said, "I called at the rector's as I came here. He insists upon my staying with him, Elizabeth. He says the hall is not prepared for visitors."

"I think he is right, Richard."

"I brought him a likeness of Phyllis and her husband. I have a similar gift for you."

"No one will prize them more. When did you see Phyllis?"

"A month ago. She is well and happy. John is a member of the Legislature this year. He seems to vibrate between the Senate and the frontier. He is a fine fellow, and they are doing well."

Then they fell into talking of Texas and of the disastrous Santa Fe expedition; and Harry listened with blazing eyes to the tale of cruelty and wrong. Then the rector came and Elizabeth made tea for her guests, and after a happy evening, she watched them walk away together over the familiar road, down the terraces, and across the park. And she went to her room and sat down, silent with joy, yet thinking thoughts that were thanksgivings, and lifting up her heart in speechless gratitude and adoration.

By and by Martha came to her. "I couldn't frame mysen to sleep to-night, Miss Hallam, till I said a word to you. God gave you a glad surprise this morning; that's his way mostly. Hev you noticed that great blessings come when we are nivver expecting 'em?"

"No, I don't think I have; and why should they?"

"I hev my own thoughts about it. Mebbe it isnt allays as easy for God's angels to do _his will_ as we think for. T' devil hes angels too, princes and powers o' evil; and I shouldn't wonder if they took a deal o' pleasure in makkin good varry hard to do."

"What, makes you think such a strange thing as that?"

"Why-a! I could tell you what looks uncommon like it out o' my own life; but you may tak' your Bible and find it plain as t' alphabet can put it, Miss Hallam. Turn up t' tenth chapter o' t' book o' t' prophet Daniel, and read t' twelfth and thirteenth verses out to me." Then, as Martha stood watching and waiting, with a bright expectant face, Elizabeth lifted the book, and read,

"'Fear not, Daniel: for from the first day that thou didst set thine heart to understand, and to chasten thyself before thy God, thy words were heard, and I am come for thy words. But the prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood me one and twenty days: but, lo, Michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me.'"

"Yet he was an angel, Miss Hallam, whose face was like lightning, and his eyes like lamps o' fire, and his arms and feet like polished brass, and his voice like the voice of a multitude."

"Then you think, Martha, that the Bible teaches us that evil as well as good angels interfere in human life?"

"Ay, I'm sure it does, Miss Hallam. If God is said to open t' eyes o' our understanding, t' devil is said to blind 'em. Are Christians filled wi' t' Spirit o' God? 'Why,' said Peter to Ananias, 'Why hath Satan filled thy heart?' Does God work in us to will and to do? T' devil also works in t' children o' disobedience. What do you mak' o' that now?"

"I think it is a very solemn consideration. I have often thought of good angels around me; but we may well 'work out our salvation with fear and trembling,' if evil ones are waiting to hinder us at every turn."

"And you see, then, how even good angels may hev to be varry prudent about t' blessings they hev on t' road to us. So they come as surprises. I don't think it's iver well, even wi' oursel's, to blow a trumpet before any thing we're going to do. After we hev got t' good thing, after we hev done t' great thing, it'll be a varry good time to talk about it. Many a night I've thought o' t' words on my little Wesley tea-pot, and just said 'em softly, down in my heart, 'In God we trust.' But tonight I hev put a bit o' holly all around it, and I hev filled it full o' t' freshest greens and flowers I could get, and I s'all stand boldly up before it, and say out loud--'In God we trust!'"


CHAPTER X.

"When we have hoped and sought and striven and lost our aim, then the
truth fronts us, beaming out of the darkness."

"Speaking of things remembered, and so sit
Speechless while things forgotten call to us."

"We, who say as we go,