Mistress and Maid | Page 8

quiet opportunity of explaining to Elizabeth that sharp language
was only "her way," and must be put up with. Humiliating as this was,
and fatal to domestic authority that the first thing to be taught a new
servant was to "put up" with one of her mistresses, still there was no
alternative.--Hilary had already foreboded and made up her mind to
such a possibility, but she had hoped it would not occur the very first
evening.
It did, however, and its climax was worse even than she anticipated.
Whether, irritated by the intense sullenness of the girl. Selina's temper
was worse than usual, or whether, as is always the case with people like
her, something else had vexed her, and she vented it upon the first
cause of annoyance that occurred, certain it is that her tongue went on
unchecked till it failed from sheer exhaustion. And then, as she flung
herself on the sofa--oh, sad mischance!--she caught sight of her nephew
standing at the school-room door, grinning with intense delight, and
making faces at her behind her back.

It was too much. The poor lady had no more words left to scold with;
but she rushed up to Ascott, and big lad as he was, she soundly boxed
his ears.
On this terrible climax let the curtain fall.
CHAPTER II.
Common as were the small fends between Ascott and his Aunt Selina,
they seldom reached such a catastrophe as that described in my last
chapter. Hilary had to fly to the rescue, and literally drag the furious lad
back into the school-room; while Johanna, pale and trembling,
persuaded Selina to quit the field and go and lie down. This was not
difficult; for the instant she saw what she had done, how she had
disgraced herself and insulted her nephew. Selina felt sorry. Her
passion ended in a gush of "nervous" tears under the influence of which
she was led up stairs and put to bed, almost like a child--the usual
termination of these pitiful outbreaks.
For the time nobody thought of Elizabeth. The hapless cause of all
stood "spectatress of the fray" beside her kitchen fire. What she thought
history saith not. Whether in her own rough home she was used to see
brothers and sisters quarrelling, and mothers boxing their childrens'
ears, can not be known; whether she was or was not surprised to see the
same proceedings among ladies and gentlemen, she never betrayed, but
certain it is that the little servant became uncommonly serious; yes,
serious rather than sulky, for her "black" looks vanished gradually, as
soon as Miss Selina left the kitchen.
On the reappearance of Miss Hilary it had quite gone. But Hilary took
no notice of her; she was in search of Johanna, who, shaking and cold
with agitation, came slowly down stairs.
"Is she gone to bed?"
"Yes, my dear. It was the best thing for her; she is not at all well
to-day."

Hilary's lip curled a little, but she replied not a word. She had not the
patience with Selina that Johanna had. She drew her elder sister into the
little parlor, placed her in the arm-chair, shut the door, came and sat
beside her, and took her hand. Johanna pressed it, shed a quiet tear or
two, and wiped them away. Then the two sisters remained silent, with
hearts sad and sore.
Every family has its skeleton in the house: this was theirs. Whether
they acknowledged it or not, they knew quite well that every
discomfort they had, every slight jar which disturbed the current of
household peace, somehow or other originated with "poor Selina."
They often called her "poor" with a sort of pity--not unneeded. Heaven
knows! for if the unhappy are to be pitied, ten times more so are those
who make others miserable.
This was Selina's case, and had been all her life. And, sometimes, she
herself knew it. Sometimes, after an especially bad outbreak, her
compunction and remorse would be almost as terrible as her passion;
forcing her sisters to make every excuse for her; she "did not mean it,"
it was only "ill health," or "nerves," or her "unfortunate way of taking
things."
But they knew in their hearts that not all their poverty and the toils it
entailed, not all the hardships and humiliation of their changed estate,
were half so bitter to bear as this something--no moral crime, and yet in
its results as fatal as crime--which they called Selina's "way."
Ascott was the only one who did not attempt to mince matters. When a
little boy he had openly declared he hated Aunt Salina; when he grew
up he as openly defied her, and it was a most difficult matter to keep
even decent peace between them. Hilary's wrath had never gone