A Lifes Morning | Page 5

house in the midst of Surrey's
fairest scenery, nor would Mrs. Rossall allow that the surrender of high
season cost her any effort. This lady had just completed her
thirty-second year; her girls were in their tenth. She was comely and
knew it, but a constitutional indolence had preserved her from
becoming a woman of fashion, and had nurtured in her a reflective
mood, which, if it led to no marked originality of thought, at all events
contributed to an appearance of culture. At the time of her husband's
death she was at the point where graceful inactivity so often
degenerates into slovenliness. Mrs. Rossall's homekeeping tendencies
and the growing childhood of her twins tended to persuade her that her

youth was gone; even the new spring fashions stirred her to but languid
interest, and her music, in which she had some attainments, was all but
laid aside. With widowhood began a new phase of her life. Her
mourning was unaffected; it led her to pietism; she spent her days in
religious observance, and her nights in the study of the gravest
literature. She would have entered the Roman Church but for her
brother's interposition. The end of this third year of discipline was
bringing about another change, perhaps less obvious to herself than to
those who marked her course with interest, as several people did. Her
reading became less ascetic, she passed to George Herbert and the
'Christian Year,' and by way of the decoration of altars proceeded to
thought for her personal adornment. A certain journal of society which
she had long ago abandoned began to show itself occasionally in her
rooms, though only as yet by oversight left to view. She spoke with her
brother on the subject of certain invitations, long neglected, and did not
seem displeased when he went beyond her own motion to propose the
issuing of cards for a definite evening. Then came Wilfrid's
break-down. There was really no need, said Mr. Athel, that she should
transfer herself immediately to the country, just when everybody was
well settled in town. But Mrs. Rossall preferred to go; she was not sure
that the juncture had not some connection with her own spiritual life.
And she maintained, on the whole, a seemly cheerfulness.
Mr. Athel was an Egyptologist of some distinction. Though not in
person or manner suggestive of romantic antecedents, he had yet come
by this taste in a way which bordered on romance. Travelling in
Southern Europe at about the age which Wilfrid had now reached, he
had the good fortune to rescue from drowning an Italian gentleman then
on a tour in Greece. The Italian had a fair daughter, who was travelling
with him, and her, after an acquaintance of a few weeks, Athel
demanded by way of recompense. Her father was an enthusiastic
student of Egyptian antiquities; the Englishman plied at one and the
same time his wooing and the study of hieroglyphics, with marked
success in both directions. The Mr. Athel who at that time represented
parental authority, or at all events claimed filial deference, was
anything but pleased with the step his son had taken; he was a highly
respectable dealer in grain, and, after the manner of highly respectable
men of commerce, would have had his eldest son espouse some

countrywoman yet more respectable. It was his opinion that the lad had
been entrapped by an adventurous foreigner. Philip Athel, who had a
will of his own, wedded his Italian maiden, brought her to England, and
fought down prejudices. A year or two later he was at work in Egypt,
where lie remained for some twelve months; his studies progressed.
Subsequently he published certain papers which were recognised as
valuable. Wilfrid found the amusement of his childhood in his father's
pursuit; he began to decipher hieratic not much later than he learned to
read English. Scarabs were his sacred playthings, and by the time of his
going to school he was able to write letters home in a demotic which
would not perhaps have satisfied Champollion or Brugsch, but yet was
sufficiently marvellous to his schoolfellows and gratifying to his father.
For the rest, Philip Athel was a typical English gentle. man. He enjoyed
out-of-door sports as keenly as he did the pursuit of his study; he had
scarcely known a day's illness in his life, owing, he maintained, to the
wisdom with which he arranged his day. Three hours of study was, he
held, as much as any prudent man would allow himself. He was always
in excellent spirits, ever ready to be of service to a friend, lived with
much moderation on victuals of the best quality procurable, took his
autumnal holiday abroad in a gentlemanly manner. With something of
theoretic Radicalism in his political views, he combined