That Stick ...

p. 105Yet Herbert Morton was a better boy than he seemed at that moment; his errors were chiefly caused by understanding noblesse oblige in a different way from his uncle.  Moreover, it would have been better for him if his tutor had lived beyond the neighbourhood of Northmoor, where he heard, losing nothing in the telling, the remarks of the other pupils’ mothers upon his uncle and aunt; more especially as it was not generally the highest order of boy that was to be found there.  If he had heard what the fathers said, he would have learnt that, though shy and devoid of small talk, and of the art of putting guests together, Lord Northmoor was trusted and esteemed.  He might perhaps be too easily talked down; he could not argue, and often gave way to the noisy Squire; but he was certain in due time to see the rights of a question, and he attended thoroughly to the numerous tasks of an active and useful county man, taking all the drudgery that others shirked.  While, if by severe stress he were driven to public speaking, he could acquit himself far better than any one had expected.  The Bishop and the Chairman of the Quarter Sessions alike set him down on their committees, not only for his rank, but for his industry and steadiness of work.  Nor had any one breathed any imputation upon the possession of what used to be known as gentility, before that good word was degraded, to mean something more like what Mrs. Morton aspired to.  Lord and Lady Northmoor might not be lively, nor a great accession to society, but the anticipations of either amusement or annoyance from vulgarity or arrogance were entirely p. 106disappointed.  No one could call them underbred, or anything but an ingrain gentleman and lady, while there were a few who could uphold Lady Northmoor as thoroughly kind, sweet, sensible, and helpful to her utmost in all that was good.

All this, however, was achieved not only unconsciously but with severe labour by a man whose powers could only act slowly, and who was not to the manner born.  Conscientiousness is a costly thing, and Strafford’s watchword is not to be adopted for nothing.  The balance of duties, the perplexities of managing an impoverished and involved estate, the disappointment of being unable to carry out the responsibilities of a landlord towards neglected cottagers, the incapacity of doing what would have been desirable for the Church, and the worry and harass that his sister-in-law did not spare, all told as his office work had never done, and in spite of quiet, happy hours with his Mary, and her devoted and efficient aid whenever it was possible, a course of disabling neuralgic headaches had set in, and a general derangement of health, which had become alarming, and called for immediate remedy.

p. 107CHAPTER XVI

WHAT IS REST?

‘Rest, there is nothing for it but immediate rest and warm baths,’ said Lady Northmoor to Constance, who was waiting anxiously for the doctor’s verdict some hours later.  ‘It is only being overdone—no, my dear, there is nothing really to fear, if we can only keep business and letters out of his way for a few weeks, my dear child.’

For Constance, who had been dreadfully frightened by the sight of the physician’s carriage, which seemed to her inexperienced eyes the omen of something terrible, fairly burst into tears of relief.

‘Oh, I am so glad!’ she said, as caresses passed—which might have been those of mother and daughter for heartfelt sympathy and affection.

‘You will miss your Saturdays and Sundays, my dear,’ continued the aunt, ‘for we shall have to go abroad, so as to be quite out of the way of everything.’

‘Never mind that, dear aunt, if only Uncle Frank is better.  Will it be long?’

‘I cannot tell.  He says six weeks, Dr. Smith p. 108says three months.  It is to be bracing air—Switzerland, most likely.’

‘Oh, how delightful!  How you will enjoy it!’

‘It has always been a dream, and it is strange now to feel so downhearted about it,’ said her aunt, smiling.

‘Uncle Frank is sure to be better there,’ said Constance.  ‘Only think of the snowy mountains—

Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;

  They crown’d him long ago

On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,

  With a diadem of snow.’

And the girl’s eyes brightened with an enthusiasm that the elder woman felt for a moment, nor did either of them feel the verse hackneyed.

‘Ah, I wish we could take you, my dear,’ said Lady Northmoor; then, ‘Do you know where Herbert is?’

‘No,’ said Constance.  ‘Oh, aunt, I am so sorry!  I don’t think he would have done it if the other boys had not teased him.’

‘Perhaps not; but, indeed, I am grieved, not only on the poor rook’s account, but that he should have the heart to vex your uncle just now.  However, perhaps he did not understand how ill he has been all this week.  And I am afraid that young Stanhope is not a good companion for him.’