First Love. Mrs. Loudon
being thus arranged, so much to Lady L.’s satisfaction, the family retired for the night.
CHAPTER VIII.
“Thou wilt see him.”
Mrs. Montgomery received an account, in the morning, from Mrs. Smyth, of how good Edmund had been, and of his having become so great a favourite, not only with the good doctor, but also with the clergyman, that both had had him to dine and play with their children more than once. She also reported, with great self gratulation, the very uncommon progress he had made in learning, under her tuition; and then proceeded to relate an adventure she had met with one evening, when walking with Edmund.
“We were just returning,” said Mrs. Smyth, “from Keswick, where I had been taking a cup of tea wee a vara discreet neighbour. I carried the boy wee me, for I niver like to let a child that is in my care oot o’ my sight; it’s a thing I nivir did, and Edmund is ne trouble; tack him whar ye will, he awways behaves himsel so prettily. So just as we were walking quietly up the hill, before ye git under the shade o’ the trees, hearing voices, I happened to look ehint me, when I saw following us a dacent, vara gentleman looking man, in earnest conversation with a woman, wha from her rags, and the whiff o’ spirituous liquor I found as she passed, seemed a beggar o’ the maist disreputable kind. They keep’t looking, looking, still at little Edmund, as they spoke; and though, when I think upon it, it seems as though ony body might look at his bonny face, heaven love him! yet at the time I felt within myself parfact sure ’at they were no looking at him for the sake o’ looking at him. As they cam’ past I heard the man say, ‘Well, I suppose she’ll be satisfied, now that I have seen him myself.’ I am quite sure o’ these words, but they went on, and I could hear no more. It seemed so strange like, I thought, to follow and speak wee them, when I felt the bairn pull me by the hand; I looked round, and he was trembling aw over, and as pale as death. By the time I had speered at him what ailed him, and spoken him a word o’ comfort, the man and the woman were bathe gane, and the peur thing talt me, that yon graceless wretch was his mother.”
Much commenting followed, on the part of Mrs. Smyth, which it is unnecessary to repeat; while Mrs. Montgomery could not refrain from expressing great regret, that so favourable an opportunity had been lost for compelling the vagrant to give some account of herself, and of the child. The subject was, of course, discussed in the breakfast-room, but nothing could be made of it, except that it would seem there did exist some one who took an interest in Edmund, and who might yet claim him, when their reasons for mystery were at an end. But then, their choice of such an agent as the drunken beggar, was quite unaccountable; for, had she stolen the child, why should she be in the confidence of the decent man, who, it seems, was to satisfy the child’s friends, by being able to say that he had seen him himself. The most diligent search was made in the neighbourhood, but neither man nor woman could be heard of.
Mrs. Montgomery and Lady L. now undertook the instruction of Edmund themselves, till proper arrangements should be made respecting that point, lest he should acquire too much of good Mrs. Smyth’s accent; yet that discreet lady was far from thinking any such precaution necessary, as she prided herself on reading English with great precision, and indulging in her native idiom only in familiar conversation, for the sake, as she averred, of “Auld lang syne.”
This plan of the lessons brought Edmund much into the sitting-rooms, till, by degrees, it passed into a custom for him to remain all the morning with the ladies. Then, when particularly good, he was indulged with a sort of second dinner at the table: and he was always good, so that there was no opportunity to withdraw an indulgence once granted, and, very shortly, a chair and plate were set for him at every meal, as a matter of course; while every one grew so fond of him, that it seemed forgotten he was not a child of the family, and even the servants, of their own accord, all began to call him Master Edmund.
CHAPTER IX.
“This is thy
Birth-day, and thou must be the little idol
Of the festival.”
In the mean time preparations of every kind were making for Lady L.’s expected confinement. The doctor had an apartment assigned him, and now lived at Lodore House, lest his attendance should be a moment too late. A respectable woman, of approved abilities, arrived all the way from Edinburgh. She was provided with an assistant under-nurse from Keswick, and both established at Lodore. Offerings too, at the shrine of the expected stranger, made their appearance every day. A splendid set of caudle-cups, of very curious china, was sent from London by Lady Theodosia R., a sister of Lord L. A set of baby-linen, of needle-work the most exquisite, arrived from Scotland, sent by Major Morven, a rather elderly bachelor-brother of Mrs. Montgomery’s. The major mentioned in his letter, that, as he did not understand those things himself, he had had them chosen by a committee of ladies, the best judges in Edinburgh.
Many, indeed, were the little, very little things, which came from various quarters, more than we entirely understand ourselves; but every band-box that was opened produced something little, so that it seemed a sort of importation from the Liliputian world. Little hats of white beaver, like snow-balls, in which, however, little plumes were not forgotten. Little caps, little bonnets, and even little shoes, wrapped in silver paper. In short, there was nothing big, but the good woman from Edinburgh, and Major Morven. The major came to be in time for the christening, as he was to be one of the sponsors.
At length another little arrival took place, and a beautiful little girl commenced her earthly pilgrimage. Quickly was the young stranger dressed in the raiment of needle-work, and carried by its grandmamma, and followed by its nurse, to the drawing-room, there to receive the caresses, and claim the admiration of its happy papa. There also was Edmund, wondering much at the bustle, and at his lessons having been entirely omitted. His ecstacies of delight and astonishment on seeing the baby were so great, and his entreaties so eager, first to be allowed to look at, then to touch this quite new object of wonder, all the time trying each expedient to add to his height, now leaping straight up, now climbing the chair nearest to Lord L., then the arm of the sofa, and, finally, the sofa-table itself, to the imminent danger of his neck, that Mrs. Montgomery was at length induced, after making him sit down on the said table, to hold the infant, for a second or two, across his knees.
During those seconds it was, we have good reason to believe, that the first idea of self-importance ever entertained by our hero, entered his mind: it accompanied the proud consciousness of fancying that he afforded support to a creature more helpless than himself. He touched its soft cheek, then its miniature hand, which soon began to close itself round his finger, in the manner that infants do. It seemed to Edmund, as though his caresses were kindly returned. His little heart overflowed with fondness. He looked up, his face beaming with delight, and asked if he might kiss the darling little baby.
“A pretty bold request indeed!” said Lord L., laughing, “kiss my eldest daughter, you urchin.”
Mrs. Montgomery, laughing also, told him he might, and Edmund accordingly approached his rosy lips to those of his precious charge, with, however, the greatest gentleness, lest, as he said, he should hurt it.
Mrs. Montgomery, on her return back from the drawing-room, was much surprised to hear the cry of an infant inside her daughter’s apartment, while she herself, if she were not dreaming, held the baby in her own arms, outside the door. The fact was, an occurrence had taken place, which, with all their preparation, they were not at all prepared for. A second little girl had made her appearance. Two dress caps, certainly, had been provided, one with a cockade for a boy, the other with a suitable rosette for a girl, in case of such a contingency (and bad enough in all conscience) as that of the child being a girl, after doctor, nurse, servants, tenants, and indeed every one knowing perfectly well that it would be a boy, but two girls never had been so much as thought of. The elder young lady, therefore, by three-quarters