Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 March 1884 — LADY BEST'S MISTAKE. [ARTICLE]

LADY BEST'S MISTAKE.

They lived in a creeper-covered cottage, nosthng among verdure in the highly cultivated valley of one of the Home counties. There was a small dairy farm attached to it, upon which Lady 'Best bestowed all her leisure hoars, and thereby managed to add no inoonsiderable sum to her income, which since her husband’s death had been rather limited. With the money derived from this source she had been able to send her only son, Arthur, to Oxford—Arthur, who was the apple of her eve, the one only being for whom she really oared. She had given him a first-class education, and it had not been received on stony ground, for Arthur was clever, and a book-worm, too much so for worldly purposes, since he had indulged in study and contemplation till he had become a dreamer. By the time he reached the age of 25 it had been declared by all the neighbors, and Lady Best’s circle generally, that Arthur would never do any good for himself in life —a hard verdict, considering that he had not a single vice, and was handsome and manly looking. Not that his habits and pursuits were exactly manly; fishing was the only sport in which he had ever been known to indulge, and he spent his time for the most part in wandering listlessly about the valleys wearing clothes of a somewhat aesthetic cut, which was particularly distasteful to his rural neighbors, a slouching felt has on his head, and a book—generally poetry—in his hand. Idolizing Arthur though she did, it depressed Lady Best not a little to see him take to an effeminate, do-nothing-atyio of life; and since he had now wasted more than a year in this sort of dream, she began to despair of seeing him embark uv any of the professions for which she had hoped his education would have fitted him. What she was to do—how she iras to change the current of events—she did not know. “Was he in love? Had he had a disappointment?” her acquaintances asked her till she ’ was tired of answering. The question, however, at last suggested a remedy. Why should hot a touch of the very disease from which people thought he was suffering, bring about his cure? _ Girls! she would surround him with girls; of course, while she had a due regard for good looks, never forgetting that, in her estimation, nothing made the eyes glisten with so much pleasure as the sight of gold. So Lady Best gave a tennis party, and invited all the beauty of the oounty, including two or three heiresses ; but before the afternoon was half over, Arthur had disappeared. He had wandored down the valley, away from “the noise,” as he called the musical laughter of these maidens, promising liimseif to return as soon as they should *ll be gone.

Lady Best was disappointed, but not -crushed; she would try again, this time jin a quieter, but, she hoped, more effectual way. # “Arthur was out so much, she was at very dull,” she told him; “moreover she wanted some assistance in effecting one or two dairy reforms. Her eldest brother's daughter-—Hannah Milton— aged 19,. was, she understood, a decidedly practical, energetic girl. She had not seen her since she was a . baby, but she should like to invite her on a long visit, and tiiake her acquaintance. Had Arthur any objection ?” “No; none whatever; Of course his mother was perfectlyfreo tq do as she liked.” ■ * -c But woulchie ' bh npidkiad to this unknown owwin when she came?” “If she pleased, him,: certainly; jbut doubtless, she would in no woyinterfere with lus purlfftts ” ‘ ** * l ' Not very encouraging if Lady Best had any sentras-intentions-in reference ,to Miss Hannah Milton, who—we will observe in parenthesis—she believath ■would sooner or later, : come into, the possess bn of at lealt:|[ eand pounds. Not a word of this did she, however, utter to Arthh?; but, withqpt father disoussion, wrote «n ftffeetiOhate'letter to her nieoe. aakinglier to come and stay at the cottage as long as she could endure the frugality and smallness of their impecunious life. Miss Hannah Milton answered by re-

turn of post that she would be delighted to avail herself of her aunt’s invitation, more especially as her father was going abroad on business, and she shotud be her own mistress for the next two months. She might be expected to arrive, bag and baggage, at the cottage on the sth of July.■•?.< then the end of June. ' ’ ... To this anuouncement followed a postscript that she hoped her dear sunt did not object to living animals, as of course she could not leave hers all alone at Milton Hall during her own and her father’s absence. ; Lady Best was delighted at the success of her letter, and wrote again to say that both she and Arthur were particularly fond of pets. Arthur had read Miss Milton’s letter, and merely ski d that ho hoped the dogs, if they wore-dogs, were thoroughbreds; he hated everything that was not perfeet So, till the sth of July, the Cottage, whenever Arthur went out—for it could

not be expected that he should endure fuss and clatter—was convulsed with preparations for the arrival of the heir-ess-niece and her retinue. A bedroom was turned into a boudoir for her private use, and two bedrooms adjoining were set aside for herself and her maid. The Cottage was one erf those elastic establishments, with countless small rooms, capable of taking in a far larger number of people than its exterior would lead you to imagine. Hannah Milton’s home was in the north; it would be quite evening before she wou d arrive, and Lady Best passed all the day in a state of feverish excitement, wandering from room to room. She seemed to feel that there was a destiny at stake; while Arthur—the individual who was in all probability the most concerned —was* perfectly cool and collected, and .passed the hours in his habitual placid enjoyment of a book. The mystic shade of twilight was already creeping up the valley when wheels were heard approaching the cottage, and Lady Best went out into the porch to receive her guest. Fain would she have persuaded Arthur to accompany her, but he preferred an arm-chair by the window. At last the carriage is at the door, and Hannah Milton, having sprung oat, is clamorously kissing her aunt. There is nothing aesthetic or dreamy about her. She has a broad, plain, honest, open face, with fine eyes, and a large month full of strong-looking white teeth—not the slightest pretension to beauty, but you can see at a glance that Hannah Milton is a thoroughly good, kind, sincere woman. Her voice is very loud, but it has the ring of a true heart. It frightens Lady Best, however, as she thinks, “What will Arthur say? Will he run away from Hannah, or allow himself to be subdued by her ?” In the carriage besides Hannah—half concealed by bird-cages, a Persian cat, and three small dogs of different breeds —there is a girl; the maid, of course. The dogs and the cat spring out after Hannah, and the footman takes the bird-cages. Just as the unnoticed occupant of the carriage is stepping out, Hannah turns round.

“Oh, I forgot; let me introduce my dearest friend, Agatha Burghlev. Of course you expected her; she” never leaves me, you know. ” Lady Best held out her hand in a welcome to which her heart did not respond; nor did she speak, except to say: “And your maid, Hannah!” Miss Milton burst out laughing. “That is a luxury in which we don’t indulge—do we, Aggy? We arrange our toilets ourselves, and very effective they are sometimes —eh?” ■-,*■* Lady Best loolfed again at this companion of whom she had never heard before. No, decidedly not; if she had known of her’ existence she would never have asked Hannah to the cottage. For Agatha was beautiful, of that refined, spiritualized beauty about which poets rave. For an indefinite period she had invited Hannah, and this companion, this Agatha, was she also to be their daily associate for weeks ? The meeting with Arthur, however, could not be deferred, and Lady Best led the way into the drawing-room. He was as cordial as it was in his nature to be in his reception of his cousin, but when the same formula of introduction with which Lady Best had been greeted was gone through, and Agatha, dragged forward by her energetic friend, stood before him, with the pale gleam of the rising moonlight on her face, he started back as though he had seen a specter, more in fear than in admiration, as it seemed to his anxious watching mother.

There was no time, however, for speculation as to what feelings Agatha had awakened in Arthur’s breast, the necessities were asserting themselves, and Hannah, in her blunt way, declared herself to be famishing. “A rapid toilet and dinner. Come on, Agatha, we shall not keep Lady Best waiting long,” and the two girls went quickly up into the rooms that had been prepared for them. In less than a quarter of an hour they came back, looking as spic-and-span as if they had made no long journey. It was very obvious that the services of a maid were unnecessary. The evening, however, was scarcely a merry one. Arthur was more than usually silent and meditative, Agatha very tired; she was not so robust as Hannah, who wps'the only lively one of the party, and chattered ceaselessly to Lady Best, who, fpr once in her life, was hot a good listener. All her , attention was riveted On “that young person.” as she, already, in her mind, designated the somewhat lackadaisical Agatha. Hannah was very full of the projected dairy reforms. She laved everything that gave her practical tendencies full vent ;i bid Lady Best was by no means as keen as she was. "While they were reforming, wliat would Arthur and his beautiful Agatha be doing?” she a*ked ( hevsrnf. if Hannah would ogly turn her full attention on the far mire important work of reforming Arthur!”

Lady Best was, however, too, much of a diplomatist to letter thoughts appear in words; ho, she must act, maneuver, watch. Of course the first thing next morning HannaiK expressed a. wish to go over the farm, and, accompanied by Agatha, she anu Lady Best started on a tour of insprection. Arthur had seen the farm ad nauseam, he said, and it did not, amuse him; he preferred remaining in the hous4 till luncheontime. With the explanations and discussions which this fanning pilgrimage entailed, Lady Best’s spirits xose, and she became thoroughly absorbed in her subject, rejoicing that she had found so congenial a companion and able coworker as Hannah. On a sudden, however, her spirits fell to zero—Agatha had disappeared. “Of course, she had gone to join Arthur; it was a preconcerted plan between them,” ana the mother as she thought of it became perfectly miserable. No more talk Abcrot gaUpns of milk, London jiarket, home consumption,etc. She was tired, she said, and if Hannah did not mind, they would return to the house, ; Reached the bottom of

the garden, which lay in front of the drawing-room windows, just as Agatha, accompanied by Arthur, strolled up the terrace toward the wood. The sight was past bearing; this then was to be the end of her loving care for Arthpr; he was to marry Hannah’s penniless companion. Nor did Hannah’s remark, as she, too, perceived them, tend to calm the excited mother’s fears. “Oh! they are going to have a little chat. I told Aggy the sooner it was j over the better. “A chat with my V>n ? Has this — this Miss Burghley met Arthur before ?” Hannah laughed. “Did you not know? Oh, then I must not tell the secrets of the prison-house. But pray don’t look so rueful, aunty mine. The secret is not of a very dreadful nature.” Lady Best was, however, by no means comforted by this intelligence. “Arthur bad been carrying on with this girl unknown to her, and hence the reason of his dejection and listlessness; of course the neighbors were right, love was the root of all evil. And to the little minx forcing herself in here under Hannah’s auspices! Oh! it was too bad —very much too bad; she had been treated shamefully!” And, her heart too full to speak, without committing herself,which pride prevented when she remembered that this niece had been conniving to deceive her, she went indoors, up into her own room, of which she locked the door, and then indulged in the luxury of a tempestuous burst of tears. For more than an hour she remained there, sobbing and composing herself by turns, till at last she heard voices under the window. Carefully concealing herself, she peeped from behind the curtain. ■ There they were, all three talking and laughing, a “woke-up” look on Arthur’s face which she had not seen there for months.

It was strange, very strange; and, as she stood and watched them, she could not make up her mind whether she had not made a mistake in asking these people to come. After all, if his love for Agatha saved Arthur from despondency and made a man of him, she ought to consider her object gaiSed. Any way, she made up her mind to be silent for the present and take notes; and, so deciding, she washed her face, smoothed her silvering hair, set her cap daintily on her head, and went down stairs, -jrhere the lunoheon was decidedly far more cheery than the dinner had been on the previous evening. And the days passed on—life at the Cottage seemed Very bright to all but its mistress, who cbuld not reconcile herself to the fact that she had been deceived—not even though it gladdened her heart to hear Arthur laughing merrily, as he sometimes' did at his cousin’s sallies, or to see him take an interest he never took before in the farm and its workings. Agatha’s pale, beautiful face would come between the mother and the change her presence seemed to have effected, and Lady Best felt that she could never love Agatha, even though Arthur’s whole happiness was centered in her. But if she had lost a son she had gained a daughter; for, appreciating Hannah’s merits as she did to the fullest, she felt that she was each day learning to love her more and more. Many times was it on her lips to tell her how grieved she was at the direction Arthur’s fancy seemed to have taken, but pride held her back. At last, almost before they could believe in its approach, St. Partridge arrived, and with it a letter from Mr. Milton, saying he should be back in less than a week, that he would take the Cottage on his way, see his sister, and escort his daughter home. What tears and heart-burnings did this letter produce! Hannah was evidently in despair at leaving the Cottage. Arthur became as despondent as he was two months ago; only Agatha seemed to have no regret. “Of course not, since she expects to stay here always; not with me, though. She will not live here with me, ” raged Lady Best to herself. And in this mood Arthur found her one morning when he sought her in the little morning-room she called her den. He broke the ice without any preliminary skating over ik “Mother, will it not be a pleasure to yon if I bring you a daughter to welcome ?” “Oh, Arthur, if you only knew how I have (treaded this question!” “Dreaded it, mother ? I thought you would be delighted. ” “Ilaw could you ? A penniless, lack* adaisichl, intriguing * the vest of her sentence was a sob, interrupted, however, by, an exclamation from Arthur.

“Penniless Hannah? Why, her only fault in my eves is that she has money, and my unde may think-—” ’ “Hanpah? You ddb*t mean to say it is Hannah you love? Oh, you dear Arthur—any awn bay 1” “You did not think it was Agatha? Why, she hpa been engaged to my old college chum, Laurence Wilmot, lor the last year? They had a little breeze just before she came here, which I had the pleasure of making up. I could not tell you because the whole thing was a secret on account of his uncle. The old gentleman, however, has given in, and they tire to be married very soon. Lady Best soon fofgot all her anxiety and the unhappiness of the past few weeks in her prestot joy; and of course she promised to negotiate matters with Mr. Milton when he should arrive, and she did so most effectually, for he seemed as pleased as she was; and from tye day that the marriage was finally settled she began to unbend and find a Elace for Agatha in her capacious eart, showering upon the girl—in very gratitude for finding that her love for Arthur was all a mistake —as many kindnesses and presents as she bestowed on her well-beloved Hannah. And when, at last, the two marriages took place at Milton Hall on the same day, the uninitiated would almost have thought that Lady Best was the mother of both the brides.— Cassell’s Magazine. Repentance without amendment is like continually pumping without mending a leak.— Pliny.