The Honorable Miss | Page 5

had passed into

the army with tolerable credit. He was very fond of his mother,
devotedly fond of her, but since he entered the army he certainly
contrived to cost her a good deal.
She spoke to him on the subject, believed as much as she chose of his
earnest promises to amend, took her own counsel and no one else's,
gave up her neat little house in Kensington, and came to live at
Northbury.
Catherine and Mabel did not like this change, but as their mother never
dreamt of consulting them, they had to keep their grumbles to
themselves.
Mrs. Bertram considered she had taken a wise step, and she told the
girls so frankly. Their house in Kensington was small and expensive. In
the country they had secured a delightful old Manor--Rosendale Manor
was its pretty name--for a small rent.
Mrs. Bertram found herself comparatively rich in the country, and she
cheered the girls by telling them that if they would study economical
habits, and try to do with very little dress for the present, she would
save some money year by year, so that by the time Catherine was
twenty they might have the advantage of a couple of seasons in town.
"Catherine will look very young at twenty," remarked the mother. "By
that time I shall have saved quite a fair sum out of my income.
Catherine looked younger at twenty than Mabel at eighteen. They can
both come out together, and have their chances like other girls."
Catherine did not want to wait for the dear delights of society until she
had reached so mature an age. But there was no murmuring against her
mother's decree, and as she was a healthy-minded, handsome,
good-humored girl, she soon accommodated herself to the ways and
manners of country folk, and was happy enough.
"I shall live on five hundred a year at Rosen dale Manor," determined
Mrs. Bertram. "And I have made up my mind that Loftie shall not cost
me more than three. Thus I shall save four hundred a year. Catherine is
only seventeen now. By the time she is twenty I shall have a trifle over
and above my income to fall back upon. Twelve hundred pounds is a
bagatelle with most people, but I feel I shall effect wonders with it.
Catherine and Mabel will be out of the common, very out of the
common. Unique people have an advantage over those who resemble
the herd. Catherine and Mabel are to be strongly individual. In any

room they are to be noticeable. Little hermits, now, some day they shall
shine. They are both clever, just clever enough for my purpose.
Catherine might with advantage be a shade less beautiful, but Mabel
will, I am convinced, fulfil all my expectations. Then, if only Loftie,"
but here Mrs. Bertram sighed. She was returning from her visit to Mrs.
Meadowsweet, walking slowly down the long avenue which led to the
Manor. This avenue was kept in no order; its edges were not neatly cut,
and weeds appeared here and there through its scantily gravelled
roadway. The grass parterre round the house, however, was smooth as
velvet, and interspersed with gay flower-beds. It looked like a little
agreeable oasis in the middle of a woodland, for the avenue was shaded
by forest trees, and the house itself had a background of two or three
acres of an old wood.
Mrs. Bertram was tired, and walked slowly. She did not consider
herself a proud woman, but in this she was mistaken. Every line of her
upright figure, each glance of her full, dark eyes, each word that
dropped from her lips spoke of pride both of birth and position. She
often said to herself, "I am thankful that I don't belong to the common
folk; it would grate on my nerves to witness their vulgarities,--their bad
taste would torture me; their want of refinement would act upon my
nature like a blister. But I am not proud, I uphold my dignity, I respect
myself and my family, but with sinful, unholy pride I have no part."
This was by no means the opinion held of her, however, by the
Northbury folk. They had hailed her advent with delight; they had
witnessed her arrival with the keenest, most absorbing interest, and, to
the horror of the good lady herself, had one and all called on her. She
was petrified when this very natural event happened. She had bargained
for a life of retirement for herself and her girls. She had never imagined
that society of a distinctly lower strata than that into which she had
been born would be forced on her. Forced! Whoever yet had forced
Mrs. Bertram into any path she did not care to walk in?
She was