Working in the Shade | Page 4

some twenty years of age; a
footman and a lady's-maid also made their appearance; and all drove
off for Riverton Park. Who could count the pairs of eyes that looked
out 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