CHAPTER IV.
When Anna returned with her kind friend to Rosewood, she sought forBella in order to tell her that she was sorry that she had hithertogiven her so much trouble, and found her busily employed at needle-work,and two or three little girls of the village with her, to whom shewas distributing several articles of clothing. This, for the present,prevented Anna's speaking of what she came to say, and she only asked,"what she was about?" and why these little girls were there.
They were not unknown to her, and she had formerly played with thembefore she left the farm; but now they saw her white frock and yellowshoes, and remembered she was taken to be Mrs. Meridith's daughter, theyeach made her a curtesy:
"Oh, don't curtesy to _me_;" said Anna, full of what had passed in themorning; "I am only a little girl like yourselves, and if it had notbeen for a good uncle and aunt, and Mrs. Meridith's kindness, I shouldhave been a great deal worse off than you, for I had no father or motherto take care of me."
"Oh, Miss Anna, don't talk so," said Bella; "every body loves you, andwould be glad to take care of you."
"But I would wish her not only to talk so, but to think so also," saidMrs. Meridith, who just then entered the room, and had heard Annaspeaking, "if it will keep her mindful not to give more trouble than shecan help; and I should be sorry she should forget, that these littlegirls have as much right to her kindness as she has to mine, when shehas it in her power to show them any."
"I will, Mamma, I will," replied Anna, "for they are all my oldplayfellows, and I used to love them very much."
Mrs. Meridith then inquired into the work Bella was doing, and Annafound she was going to clothe them also, and she heard her givedirections for more things to be made, and tell the children to sendanother family out of the village to her.
As soon as they were gone she burst into tears, and said, "Oh, Mamma, Imight have been one of these little girls, and you would have been goodto me as you are to them. But how much more kind to take me as your own!And why was it _me_? why not one of them? they are better little girlsthan I have been, and would never have given you so much trouble; but mydear Bella I am ashamed of it; you shall never have to mend my frocks asyou have done."
"I never complained of it, my dear," returned Bella, who did not knowwhat had passed.
"But you will have more time to assist the poor children in thevillage," observed Mrs. Meridith, "who are all obliged to do somethingtowards supporting themselves already, and therefore your working forthem will be more useful than for Anna."
The little girl agreed to all her Mamma said, and she sat down to dinnerwith her with very different ideas than the day before.
As soon as she saw William and John coming up the lawn, whom Mrs.Meridith had asked to tea, she asked her leave to go and meet them; andas they walked slowly round the garden together, she told them all aboutthe torn frock which she had vainly endeavoured to mend. "You told me,"said she to William, "that these fine clothes did not make me happier,a little while ago, and I have found it out now; but however I willnever tear another if I can help it; at least I shall know what troubleit must be to Bella to mend it."
The afternoon passed rapidly away, and when she went to bed, Annafelt more grateful for the happy home provided for her, than shehad ever done before. She frequently reverted to her former state,in conversation with Mrs. Meridith, and her uncle and aunt, whilethe latter always endeavoured to imprint on her mind the sense ofher obligation to her kind benefactress, by whose name she was nowuniversally known, though that which really belonged to her wasEastwood, for so her parents were called.
In the course of a few years Mrs. Meridith evidently grew happier, whileaccording to her own maxim she added to the happiness of others; shesuffered no one to want work who were capable of it, and she regularlysupplied those who were old or ill in the village with every comfortthey needed. Blankets were sent to every house, and each year her housewas open for a whole week at Christmas. A plentiful meal was providedevery day, but nothing superfluous; and her barrels of home-brewed alewere tapped, that all might have their allotted portion. In short, fromher extensive fortune and her earnest endeavour to make these poorpeople happy, there was not a family in Downash who had not at least oneof their children apprenticed to some useful trade, while the othersworked in the fields; nor was there a child in the village who had notlearned to write and read; and while Mrs. Meridith was thus careful forDownash and its inhabitants, she was not unmindful of the poor on theestate she had left in Lincolnshire, but gave orders to her agent therethat they should be provided with what was necessary for them; andoften sent Syphax, her confidential servant, to see that it was done.
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell continued to receive many marks of her favour,and as their family increased, she added to her liberality; nor did sheforget the other brother and his family, but on his first visit to thefarm after her settling at Rosewood, recognized him as one of her earlyfriends with her usual kindness. She also sent handsome presents to hiswife and children; and was always endeavouring to find out where shecould be materially useful to both of them. At length the farm whichthe younger Mr. Campbell rented was to be sold; and unless he becamethe purchaser he expected to be turned out. On hearing this, Mrs.Meridith advanced the money for him, and at the same time presented adeed of gift to the elder brother, of the farm which he rented of her.This perhaps would have been carrying her generosity too far, had shenot possessed so ample a fortune, with no near relation to inherit itafter her death, and those she had were all in a state of affluence. Shetherefore gratified herself by thus obliging two worthy families, andconvincing them that the kindness of their mother to her in infancy wasnot forgotten. All who heard of these acts of kindness, rejoiced thatthey were shewn to men so deserving of them, except the other farmer inthe village, whose name was Ward: he could not see what the Campbellshad done to merit such a recompense, nor bear that they should be theowners of their farms while he only rented his. At market, or whereverthey met, his envy was apparent; and yet he could attach no blame toeither of the brothers, since they were both ignorant of her intention,and would have declined her offer had she made it to them before thepurchase was necessary. As it was, Edward Campbell insisted on payingher what money he had laid up against the time he expected the farmwould be sold; and to satisfy his scruples Mrs. Meridith accepted it;and also the same sum from his elder brother, which she immediately, andunknown to them, placed in the funds in the names of their respectivechildren. But yet farmer Ward was still hard to credit that they hadpaid _any_ purchase money: he had for some time viewed the notice Mrs.Meridith took of the family with a jealous eye, and much had beensaid by his wife and daughters of the increased consequence of farmerCampbell and his family, since the lady of the manor had done so muchfor them.
This last event did not take place till after Anna had been ten yearswith her kind patroness, whom she was now accustomed to look on as morethan a mother, though often the circumstance of the torn frock wasreverted to by her uncle, and he reminded her that it was the humanityof Mrs. Meridith, and not from any claim she had to her kindness, whichhad placed her in the situation she was.
As she was now arrived at the age of fourteen, the best mastersthe country afforded for music, French, and drawing, attended her;"and these," said her attentive uncle, "you ought to be assiduousin learning, that you may be able to amuse Mrs. Meridith as her ageincreases;" but Anna's attention to these accomplishments did notprevent her from paying the same to more domestic concerns.
"It may be," said Mrs. Meridith, "you may never wish to play, or sing,after your masters have left you; but you will always have a family toattend to."
As music was what Anna was particularly desirous of improvement in, andas she had a very good voice, her kind friend did not discourage herendeavours to advance in it; "but remember," said she, "that to addto the happiness of others, you must do something more than sing tothem.--A song, or a concerto on the piano will not satisfy the callsof hunger, or still the pains of
sickness; and the poor in the villagewill not thank you for sitting whole hours at your instrument, if itleads you to neglect them; and may you recollect my dear, that one chiefreason, why I adopted you for my daughter, was that you should supply myplace to the poor of Downash, when I am no longer here to assist them."Anna always heard her with tears upon this subject, and faithfullypromised to regard her injunctions.
At this time she often walked among the villagers and listened to theirwants, or rather their account of how they had been relieved; and thepraises of good Mrs. Meridith: and when the purchase of the farms weremade, she met with various congratulations.
"I am sure both your uncles were deserving of it," said one of theirlabourers, at whose house she called to know why his daughter was not atschool the week before; "they are as good masters to work for as can befound in all the country, and _we be_ all heartily glad that the farmsare their own."
"Mrs. Meridith," replied Anna, "has given us all reason to rejoice thatshe came to live here; what has she not done for me?"
"Ah, dear Miss," returned the man, "now you _speaks_ of that, your poordear mother was deserving of it."
"It is all for _her_ sake," answered Anna, "but did _you_ know her?"
"Ah, and your father too, Miss, if he deserved to be called so, whocould leave you as he did."
Anna sighed. "I wonder where he is," said she, not expecting the old mancould inform her.
"Why some do say that he went for a sailor," returned he, "but I didhear a little while ago that some one _see'd_ a man that had seen himabout a twelvemonth before."
"You don't say so," returned Anna, with eagerness, half afraid yetanxious to hear more: "Who was it, and where was he?"
"Why I don't know for the truth of it, Miss," said he, "nor whereaboutsit was he _see'd him_, but I thinks it was somewhere beyond sea; but itwas at farmer Ward's my daughter heard it, and the reason, Ma'am, she_h'an't_ been to school this week, is, she has been there, while theirgirl was gone home to see her mother."
"At farmer Ward's?" replied Anna, "I thought they would have had some oftheir own labourer's daughters."
"And so should I, Miss, but somehow Nancy Ward has taken a great fancyto my girl, so I let her go, as 'twas but for a little while; but I_hopes_ to get her into your aunt's, Miss, when she wants a girl, andif you would be so good as to speak for her it would be doing a greatkindness; she is very handy, and knows how to do a great many things.But here she comes, and Nancy Ward with her, I declare." Anna looked outand saw them coming towards the little wicket, she therefore would notleave the house till they entered it; and as it was at farmer Ward'sthat something had been heard of her father, she thought she might hearmore of it from Nancy, whom, though she had not seen for some months,yet as children they were often together; but she was not aware of thedifference Mrs. Meridith's late kindness to her uncles had made in _her_behaviour, as well as in that of her father.
"How do you do, Nancy?" said she, "I hope you are well? You are muchgrown since I saw you."
"And so are you, Miss," replied Nancy, with a saucy air; "and all yourfamily I think,--the farmer Campbells are quite gentlemen now, and MissMeridith, or Miss Campbell, or Miss Eastwood, or whatever name I maycall you by, is quite a fine lady."
"Not more so than I was a few years ago, when you did not account meso," answered Anna, with rather a haughty air; but it was immediatelyhumbled when the insolent girl proceeded, "according to the old proverb,set a beggar on horseback."
"A beggar!" returned Anna.
"Yes," said Nancy, "your father was one, or is one now; and it would bea good thing for him if he could come in for some of Mrs. Meridith'sbounty."
"I believe," replied Anna, with some spirit, "that if he needed anddeserved it, he would not have long to wait for it; but can you tell mewhere he is?"
"O dear no, Miss, I have no acquaintance with him, nor do I wish it:I only think that if he knew how generous Mrs. Meridith is to all whobelong to _you_, he would soon be here to get a little out of her."
"Fye, Nancy, fye, I am ashamed of you," said the old man; "if you can'ttalk better than that, you should hold your tongue; you may be ashamedof yourself; can any one help the faults of their parents?"
"It is the first time," thought Anna, "that I have suffered for thefaults of mine; till now every body pitied me for having such a father."
"Oh!" returned the girl, determined now to vent her spleen as she hadbegan, "the poor little Anna Eastwood, or Campbell as she was called, isso proud since she has become Mrs. Meridith's daughter, that she oughtto be told of what she was; she was only taken out of charity at first."
"I know it," replied Anna, with a dignified air; "and I am obliged toMrs. Meridith for giving me such an education as has not disgraced thatcharity. If I _am_ proud, I am sorry for it, for I well know I havenothing to be proud of; but I hope I shall never be insensible to thekindness of Mrs. Meridith, or my uncle and aunts; and as for what thatlady has done for _them_, it was because their mother was her firstfriend; they wanted not her assistance, though they know how to valueher friendship and condescension in noticing me as she has done; andthere are other people who rejoice at it for my mother's sake.
"That we all do, Miss," said the old man; "and as for your being proud,no one thinks you so, any more than Mrs. Meridith herself; and it is arare thing to see ladies like her with so little, and remember formerkindnesses and friends as she does. I am sure old Mrs. Campbell was agood nurse to her, and she has rewarded her family for it."
"I think so, indeed," replied the envious girl, "when she has given themboth farms for it."
"You are mistaken there," said Anna, very mildly, for the honestencomiums of the poor man had calmed her anger. "My uncles had notlaboured so long, nor my grandfather before them, not to be ableto purchase the farms you mention; and Mrs. Meridith only gave thepreference to any other buyer."
"My father could buy a farm as well as them, I fancy," replied Nancy,with a toss of the head.
"I dare say he could," returned Anna, "but you do not imagine Mrs.Meridith would have sold that in which my uncle lived, away from him,if it was in his power to purchase it, any more than she would sellyour father's to another person if _he_ wished to have it." Nancy Wardnow looked half ashamed, and Anna turning from her, said somethingto the other girl (who had stood by in evident distress during thisconversation) about her coming to school the next week, and then biddingthe old man farewell, she hastened home ruminating on what she hadheard, and particularly on that which concerned her father.