Working in the Shade | Page 4

from various windows in Franchope as the carriage drove rapidly through the town? A glance, a flash, and the new-comers were gone.
And now, in a few days, the whole household having twice occupied the family pews in the old parish church on the Lord's day, the neighbouring gentry began to make their calls.
The first to do so were Lady Willerly and her daughter. Her ladyship had discovered that she was distantly connected with the colonel, and hastened to show her interest in him as speedily as possible. Having cordially shaken hands with her and her daughter. Colonel Dawson turned to the lady and young man by his side and introduced them as, "My sister Miss Dawson; my nephew Mr Horace Jackson." So the relationships were settled, and public curiosity set at rest.
Numerous other callers followed, and by all it was agreed that the family was a decided acquisition; a pity perhaps that there was not a Mrs Dawson and a few more young people to fill the roomy old house and add liveliness to the various parties and social gatherings among the gentry. A younger man than the colonel would undoubtedly have been more to the general taste, especially as it was soon found that the family at Park House neither accepted nor gave dinner invitations, nor indeed invitations to any gatherings except quiet afternoon friendly meetings, where intercourse with a few neighbours could be enjoyed without mixing with the gaieties of the fashionable world.
So good society shrugged its shoulders, and raised its eyebrows, and regretted that the colonel, who doubtless was a good man, should have taken up such strict and strange notions. However, people must please themselves; and so it came to pass that the family at Riverton Park was soon left pretty much to itself, just exchanging civil calls now and then with the principal neighbours, and being left out of the circle of fashionable intimacy.
Three families, however, kept up a closer acquaintance, which ripened, more or less, into friendship. About a mile and a half from the Park, on the side that was farthest from Franchope, lived Mr Arthur Wilder, a gentleman of independent means, with a wife, a grown-up son, and three daughters. Horace Jackson was soon on the most intimate terms with young Wilder, and with his sisters, who had the reputation of being the most earnest workers in all good and benevolent schemes, so that in them the clergyman of their parish had the benefit of three additional right hands; while their parents and brother gave time, money, and influence to many a good cause and useful institution.
Adjoining the Riverton estate, in the direction of Franchope, was, as has been already stated, the property of the elderly Miss Stansfield, whose niece, Mary, has been introduced to our readers. The old lady was an early caller on the colonel's family, having made a special effort to rouse herself to pay the call, as she rarely left her own grounds. She at once took to Colonel Dawson; and, whether or no the liking was returned on his part, he frequently visited his infirm neighbour, and would spend many a quiet hour with her, to her great satisfaction. The old lady was one who wished to do good, and did it, but not graciously. So she had won respect and a good name among her dependants, but not love. The world called her selfish, but the world was wrong. She was self-absorbed, but not selfish in the ordinary sense of the term. She acted upon principle of the highest kind; her religion was a reality, but she had been used ever to have her own way, and could not brook thwarting or contradiction; while her ailments and infirmities had clustered her thoughts too much round herself, and had generated a bitterness in her manner and speech, which made the lot of her niece, who was her constant companion, a very trying one.
To the north of Riverton Park was the estate of Lady Willerly. Her ladyship was one of those impetuous characters who are never content unless they are taking castles by storm; she must use a hatchet where a penknife would answer equally well or better. She was a widow, and dwelt with her only child Grace, a grown-up daughter, in her fine old family mansion, in the midst of her tenants and the poor, who lived in a state of chronic alarm lest she should be coming down upon them with some new and vigorous alteration or improvement. Her daughter was in some respects like her mother, as full of energy, but with a little more discretion; bright as a sunbeam, and honest as the day; abounding also in good works. Such were the three families who maintained an intimacy with Colonel Dawson, when the