ON the following midsummer vacation, Mrs. Harewood complied with the wishes of her young family, by consenting to give a ball to their young friends; and as she disapproved very much of late hours, the whole party were invited to dinner, in order that the dance might commence early.
The day previous to this entertainment was a very busy one, as the young people were permitted to display their taste by arranging the ball-room, and ornamenting it in the best manner they were able with flowers, under the inspection and with the assistance of Miss Campbell. The boys, attended by the footman, went out into the country, and returned laden with beautiful spoils from the hedges and copses, consisting of branches of trees, brushwood, and maythorn, together with those green plants which at this season of the year are found in abundance, such as clivers, coltswort, and the various mallows. When these were brought home, the young ladies tied gay flowers, made of various-coloured paper, upon them, at distances, with green worsted; and when these ornaments were finished, the branches themselves were tied together with strong cord, which was hidden by the foliage. By this means they were made into long wreaths, which were hung in festoons all round the room, and had an exceedingly beautiful effect, while over the doors and windows arches were formed of the same materials; but when the greens were brought nearer to the eye, natural flowers were used, which, being cut very short in the stem, preserved themselves fresh and beautiful, and perfumed the place with the most delightful odours.
Though this employment was charming, yet it was necessarily fatiguing, and the children went to bed at an early hour. Not long after they had retired, Mr. and Mrs. Harewood heard a carriage, and while they were conjecturing who it might be, to their great surprise, the long-expected stranger, Mrs. Hanson, was announced.
They were truly rejoiced to see her; for, although personally unknown to them, they were much disposed to esteem and love her, both from the style of her letters, and the many traits of her conduct and character given by Zebby, who was an able eulogist, since she ever spoke from the heart, and although ignorant, was by nature acute and penetrating.
The anxious mother, sensible that forms were not necessary to be attended to, in addressing the worthy couple to whom she came a welcome, though unknown guest, first inquired after her only child. When told that she was in bed, and fast asleep, having been much fatigued when she retired, she immediately declared that she would not have Matilda awoke for her own gratification—a declaration which confirmed the good opinion the family already entertained of her. She could not, however, resist the very natural desire she felt of beholding that dear object of her solicitude, from whom she had been so long parted; and she therefore visited her room, and, softly kissing her forehead, observed, to the great satisfaction of Mrs. Harewood, that she had never seen her look so well before, which was certainly the fact, though her weariness had induced some degree of paleness.
Tears rose to the eyes of the fond mother, and often, often were they turned to the bed which contained all her earthly treasure, ere she could tear herself away; and Mrs. Harewood felt aware that silent prayers occupied her heart for the future welfare and progressive virtue of a being naturally so very dear, and whose bad passions, at the time of their parting, had given so little rational hope of future felicity, either to herself or her widowed parent. Sympathizing truly with her feelings, and aware of the extreme delicacy of the subject, especially to one of whose peculiar feelings she knew so little, Mrs. Harewood left it to time to show the change in Matilda.
Mrs. Hanson was recalled from the fond reverie the sight of her daughter had involved her in, by the voice of Zebby, who had only just learned the arrival of that dear mistress she had ever so justly estimated. The two ladies descended, and found the happy negro weeping for joy, and running about the breakfast-parlour and dining-room, seeking for her lady, whom, when she beheld, she danced about like a wild woman; one moment being ready to cast herself at her feet, and the next longing to embrace her.
“I am very glad to see you, Zebby,” said Mrs. Hanson, “and very happy to find you still my daughter’s servant, as I know you will suit her much better in many respects than any Englishwoman possibly could.”
“Me love Missy ver much, madam, but me no Missy maid now; me housemaid for madam Harewood now; me makee de bed, sweepy de stair, do all sort ting; me never wait on Missy, no, never.”
Mrs. Hanson gave a deep sigh, and said to Mrs. Harewood—“I fear you have had some trouble in procuring a maid for my daughter, ma’am?”
“When your daughter came to us, you may remember, my good madam, that we undertook to treat her in every respect as if she were our own; we have done it, and you will be able to judge to-morrow how far your dear girl is benefited or injured by sharing the attentions of Ellen’s nursemaid, Ellen’s governess, and Ellen’s mother.”
Mrs. Hanson felt that she was much indebted to the kindness evidently intended by this arrangement, especially as it was a plain case, that Zebby had been retained in the family for her accommodation; yet she could not help thinking that the contrast between Matilda’s past and present situation was too great: although she had a thousand times desired that some great change might be adopted in her education, yet her heart shrunk at the idea of the discipline which she had so long felt to be necessary. She was afraid that the terrible passions her child had manifested, had rendered terrible changes necessary, and a train of inflictions and privations arose to her view, which maternal tenderness was unequal to contemplate unmoved; she therefore apologized to her friends, and retired to her room, but her pillow was strewed with those thorns which solicitude had planted there.
