"What a comfort!the day-light is lengthening.I think this has been the very dreariest winter I ever knew.Has it not,my little daughter?Who brought her these violets?"And John placed himself on a corner of my own particular armchair,where,somehow or other,Muriel always lay curled up at tea-time now--(ay,and many hours in the day-time,though we hardly noticed it at first).Taking between his hands the little face,which broke into smiles at the merest touch of the father's fingers,be asked her "when she intended to go a walk with him?""To-morrow."
"So we have said for a great many to-morrows,but it is always put off.What do you think,mother--is the little maid strong enough?"Mrs.Halifax hesitated;said something about "east winds.""Yet I think it would do her good if she braved east winds,and played out of doors as the boys do.Would you not like it,Muriel?"The child shrank back with an involuntary "Oh,no.""That is because she is a little girl,necessarily less strong than the lads are.Is it not so,Uncle Phineas?"continued her father,hastily,for I was watching them.
"Muriel will be quite strong when the warm weather comes.We have had such a severe winter.Every one of the children has suffered,"said the mother,in a cheerful tone,as she poured out a cup of cream for her daughter,to whom was now given,by common consent,all the richest and rarest of the house.
"I think every one has,"said John,looking round on his apple-cheeked boys;it must have been a sharp eye that detected any decrease of health,or increase of suffering,there."But my plan will set all to rights.I spoke to Mrs.Tod yesterday.She will be ready to take us all in.Boys,shall you like going to Enderley?
You shall go as soon as ever the larch-wood is green."For,at Longfield,already we began to make a natural almanack and chronological table."When the may was out"--"When Guy found the first robin's nest"--"When the field was all cowslips"--and so on.
"Is it absolutely necessary we should go?"said the mother,who had a strong home-clinging,and already began to hold tiny Longfield as the apple of her eye.
"I think so,unless you will consent to let me go alone to Enderley."She shook her head.
"What,with those troubles at the mills?How can you speak so lightly?""Not lightly,love--only cheerfully.The troubles must be borne;why not bear them with as good heart as possible?They cannot last--let Lord Luxmore do what he will.If,as I told you,we re-let Longfield for this one summer to Sir Ralph,we shall save enough to put the mill in thorough repair.If my landlord will not do it,I will;and add a steam-engine,too."Now the last was a daring scheme,discussed many a winter night by us three in Longfield parlour.At first,Mrs.Halifax had looked grave--most women would,especially wives and mothers,in those days when every innovation was regarded with horror,and improvement and ruin were held synonymous.She might have thought so too,had she not believed in her husband.But now,at mention of the steam-engine,she looked up and smiled.
"Lady Oldtower asked me about it to-day.She said,'she hoped you would not ruin yourself,like Mr.Miller of Glasgow!'I said I was not afraid."Her husband returned a bright look."It is easier to make the world trust one,when one is trusted by one's own household.""Ah!never fear;you will make your fortune yet,in spite of Lord Luxmore."For,all winter,John had found out how many cares come with an attained wish.Chiefly,because,as the earl had said,his lordship possessed an "excellent memory."The Kingswell election had worked its results in a hundred small ways,wherein the heavy hand of the landlord could be laid upon the tenant.He bore up bravely against it;but hard was the struggle between might and right,oppression and staunch resistance.It would have gone harder,but for one whom John now began to call his "friend;"at least,one who invariably called Mr.Halifax so--our neighbour,Sir Ralph Oldtower.
"How often has Lady Oldtower been here,Ursula?""She called first,you remember,after our trouble with the children;she has been twice since,I think.To-day she wanted me to bring Muriel and take luncheon at the Manor House.I shall not go--I told her so.""But gently,I hope?--you are so very outspoken,love.You made her clearly understand that it is not from incivility we decline her invitations?--Well--never mind!Some day we will take our place,and so shall our children,with any gentry in the land."I think--though John rarely betrayed it--he had strongly this presentiment of future power,which may often be noticed in men who have carved out their own fortunes.They have in them the instinct to rise;and as surely as water regains its own level,so do they,from however low a source,ascend to theirs.
Not many weeks after,we removed in a body to Enderley.Though the chief reason was,that John might be constantly on the spot,superintending his mills,yet I fancied I could detect a secondary reason,which he would not own even to himself;but which peered out unconsciously in his anxious looks.I saw it when he tried to rouse Muriel into energy,by telling her how much she would enjoy Enderley Hill;how sweet the primroses grew in the beechwood,and how wild and fresh the wind swept over the common,morning and night.His daily longing seemed to be to make her love the world,and the things therein.He used to turn away,almost in pain,from her smile,as she would listen to all he said,then steal off to the harpsichord,and begin that soft,dreamy music,which the children called "talking to angels."We came to Enderley through the valley,where was John's cloth-mill.
