The Home at Greylock. E. Prentiss
not only was her tale adorned by a pretty foreign accent, but by sound common sense and good feeling.
She had married, young, a poor artist, who found her in her Swiss home, and was too eager to secure her to perfect himself in his profession. Neither of their families approved of the match, and they had made a foolish, runaway affair of it, coming to this country full of hope, but without a friend in it.
"My mother hadn't any mother, or brothers, or sisters; and her father wasn't her own father, and wasn't good to her."
Mrs. Grey looked the girl full in the face and smiled. "You think that makes a difference?" she said.
"I do, Madam. My mother never did anything wrong in her life."
What a firm young head was set on those young shoulders! It is not easy to describe, in words, the impression made by both mother and daughter.
"And how did you get on?" Mrs. Grey inquired, turning once more to Mrs. Haydon.
"Well, Madam, we got the punishment our self-will deserved. We knew no one in this country. My husband worked hard, but had no friend to encourage him. He sold pictures enough to keep us alive and, at times, comfortable. But we lived from hand to mouth, and if we had sickness, things went very hard with us. Then he began to get disgusted with his work. He would begin a picture that looked beautiful to me, but would throw it aside unfinished. And it ended just as such stories always end. He died, and I was left alone with my little ones to support myself as best I could."
"You must have married very young?"
"Madam, we were a boy and a girl, nothing more. The laws of my country compel education. I was at school when this folly took place, and when I was left a widow, my position was a very embarrassing one. I was not capable of teaching because I had left school so young; and yet I had come of a good family and been used to certain comforts. For a time I supported myself by embroidery, but this life of confinement and deprivation of sleep—for I had to work till midnight—injured my health; and a physician, whom I consulted a few weeks ago, told me that, what with over-work, poor food, want of exercise, and living in a sphere so different from that in which I was born, I should soon break down completely."
"What do you propose to do, then? Apply to your own or your husband's family?"
"Madam, they return my letters unread. No! I have made up my mind, and Margaret will make up hers when she sees that there is but one way of saving her mother's life. It is a poor life, not worth saving in itself; but it is everything to her. We have supported ourselves with needlework up to the present time, and the work I finished last night will bring in enough to give me a few days' rest, and we shall then go out to service."
"To service!" cried Margaret. "My mother go out to service!"
"Yes, my child. The bad air and the midnight work are killing me. The doctor says so. If we can get a situation in a gentleman's family, and get good air and good food, we yet may be well and happy."
"And your other children?"
"They are all, Madam, safe with the Good Shepherd."
"I admire and respect your resolution, and wish more of my countrywomen were of your mind. Thousands might lead useful, happy lives in our homes, who now lead aimless and comfortless ones. Servitude is no disgrace. I have formed friendships with women in my kitchen that I expect to last a lifetime. Still, I wish I could find some more suitable position for you. You would look for that of seamstress, I suppose?"
"The doctor says I must use my needle no longer."
"Ah, I have it! One of my daughters wants a nursery governess. That would be the very thing. You would take your meals with the children, drive out with them, get excellent compensation, and be as happy as the day is long. And to have a woman in her nursery who fears God, would be most delightful to her."
Mrs. Haydon looked down, and was silent.
"You think you could not have Margaret with you, perhaps?" asked Mrs. Grey, surprised. "But I could manage that, I think."
"Madam, have you a young daughter?" Mrs. Haydon somewhat abruptly asked, in the pretty foreign accent that made everything she said pleasing.
"Yes, and a very beloved one."
"Well, Madam, the position you so kindly propose would be everything I could ask for myself, but no lady would allow a girl of Margaret's age to associate, on equal terms, with her own children, nor live in her house in idleness. This would bring her into contact with other servants, who might be such persons as I should be willing to have her associate with, and might not; probably not. But if I undertake general housework, I have my kitchen all to myself, shall be free from the mental strain of not knowing to-day how we are to live to-morrow, can look after Margaret, and keep her out of harm's way. You see, Madam, that my child's welfare ought to be my only thought. If she were older, and steadier, and had fixed religious principle, it would be different. But as it is, I will submit to anything rather than be separated from her."
"But general housework is very hard; and you look so delicate. And you would get very low wages."
"I am stronger than I look. Housework will come hard at first, after so many years of sitting all day and half the night at needlework; but I gain strength very fast by using what I have, and Margaret is very handy, and will save me a great many steps."
"Still, you do not look like a woman born for a general housemaid."
"And I don't look like a woman born to be a lady," was the reply, with a faint smile. "You see, Madam, that it is my own fault that I am in this difficult position. A girl who makes a runaway match deserves to suffer for it. But it would grieve me sorely to drag my poor child down with me, and therefore I mean to educate her as well as I can, and try to prepare her for some useful position in the world."
"But are you sure of getting situations together?" asked Mrs. Grey.
"Yes, Madam—quite sure. God has humbled my pride, which has long held out against this method of support, and made me willing to live in any honest way He suggests. And He will not forsake me now. He knows that my Margaret is not at an age to face the world without her mother's restraint and her mother's love."
"But," said Mrs. Grey, "you talk like an educated woman, and Margaret's language is not such as one expects to find in a house like this."
"What education we have will make us all the better servants," was the reply.
"I hate to have you call yourself a servant!" Margaret broke forth, impetuously.
"If it is a disgrace, it is one I deserve," was the reply. "I have brought my trials on to myself."
CHAPTER II.
Mrs. Grey went home thoroughly interested in her new charge, and tried to concoct some plan for keeping the two together in a sphere better fitted to their evident refinement. She could think of nothing; therefore she tried the next best thing, namely, to find a family capable of appreciating their good fortune in obtaining such services. In this quest she was successful. Mrs. Haydon and Margaret found a home in a small, Christian family; they had a neat room to themselves, and were treated not only with kindness, but consideration. Mrs. Haydon was respectful, quiet, made a system of her work, found time to read, to attend to Margaret's lessons, and the ladies of the family confided to Mrs. Grey that they should feel as if heaven had come down to earth but for the girl. They did not know what to make of her, and did not like her. Mrs. Grey thought she did understand her; she had not forgotten the anguish of the child when she fancied her mother dying, nor the sudden act of self-control occasioned by her presence. She knew she had heart and soul, and that innate desire rather to hide than to display them, only found in a refined nature.
And now, as she sat meditating by her lonely fireside, she came to the conclusion that if it could be managed,