Read Ebook: Teddy Bears by Sutton Adah Louise Schaefer A J Illustrator

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Ebook has 69 lines and 5306 words, and 2 pages

"Shall you stay all the afternoon, mamma? and will you let me hear all you say to Mrs Bridget and Stephen?"

"I am afraid that will not interest you much, my dear," replied Mrs Herbert, smiling; "but you deserve to have your wishes granted, to reward you for your endeavours this morning. Was I not right in saying that you would be far happier if you attended to your lessons first, and thought of your amusements afterwards?"

"Ah! mamma," said Amy, "you know you are always right, and I am always wrong; but then it does not signify so much while you are with me to teach me."

Mrs Herbert sighed. "You must not look to me, my dear child: I cannot keep you right. It is God alone who can do that, and He only knows how long I may live to tell you what you ought to do. But do not look so grave now, I did not mean to make you unhappy. You must get your bonnet and take one turn with me in the shady walk, and by that time dinner will be ready."

That afternoon was one of perfect enjoyment to Amy. The drive in the rector's carriage was an unusual treat, and the road through the forest had never before seemed so beautiful; the light danced amongst the trees, and sparkled on the gay primroses and harebells, and the deep blue violets, which peeped from amongst the thick underwood. The rich moss which covered the trunks of the old oak trees, was of a hue so bright as to be surpassed only by the vivid green of the young leaves, which had reached their full beauty, undimmed as yet by the scorching rays of the summer's sun; and when at length they reached the park gate of Emmerton, and drove under the long rows of oak and chestnuts, and by the side of the clear silver lake, Amy's delight was unbounded. Several months had passed since she had last been there, and the beauty of the place was now increased by the thought that she should soon be able to visit it constantly, and might, perhaps, at times, spend days, and even weeks there with her cousins.

"Dear, dear mamma!" she exclaimed, as she jumped up in the carriage to look at the lake, "do you think my uncle can be unhappy while he is here?"

"Why should he not be, my love?" asked Mrs Herbert.

"Oh! because it is so beautiful, mamma," said Amy; "and it is all his own, and he may go where he pleases, and do what he pleases, and you say he has plenty of money: I am sure if I were he, I should have nothing to wish for. If I lived at Emmerton, nothing could ever happen to vex me, except," she added, looking grave, as she saw a tear in her mother's eye, "except if anything were the matter with you: but here comes Stephen down the avenue. I wonder what he will say when he hears that my uncle is coming back?"

The steward approached the carriage as Amy spoke; he was a tall, hearty man, of about seventy, with a step as firm, and a back as unbent, as if he had numbered thirty years less. His features were very strongly marked, and expressive of great intelligence, and might even have been called handsome, though his complexion was completely tanned by age, and many years' exposure to the variations of the weather. There was a bright, happy look in his clear, gray eye, and a smile about his mouth, and yet a person who had watched him narrowly might have seen the trace of care on his brow; but it seemed as if it had only recently been acquired, as if joyousness were the natural inmate of his breast, and melancholy only its occasional visitant: and so, indeed, it was. Stephen Browning had entered the service of Mrs Herbert's father when quite a lad, and had risen from being a mere stable-boy to the higher offices of groom and coachman; he had been the instructor of the young ladies of the family in horsemanship, and of the young gentlemen in all their boyish sports, and considered himself--and was indeed considered by many others--as the most important personage about Emmerton Hall, always excepting Mr Harrington.

During this period, his life had been a very happy one; and the pride with which he watched the children as they grew up was scarcely inferior to that of their parents. Even the death of old Mr Harrington did not in any serious degree disturb his peace of mind, after the first shock was over; for death, as he said, was the lot of all men, and 'twas no use to grieve for him who was gone to happiness; and so Stephen consoled himself for his loss, and still looked with delight upon the scenes he had known from his childhood, and interested himself as much in the new generation that had sprung up, as he had done in those who had long been beyond his instruction. But a most bitter trial awaited him in the removal of the family from Emmerton, and it was one for which he was totally unprepared; the first intelligence was so astounding, that it was some time before he could be induced to believe it; and when at last the truth forced itself upon his mind, he sank into a state of listless indifference, which was for a time in no slight degree alarming. He did, however, recover from it; and at Mr Harrington's request consented to remain at the Hall, and to take charge of it as steward; but his occupations, his enjoyments, all seemed gone, and his only remaining pleasure was to visit the cottage, and talk over the old days with Mrs Herbert, and tell Amy stories of the feats of her uncles and aunts in horsemanship, long before, as he said, she was ever thought of. For Mrs Bridget, the housekeeper, who had only lived about twelve years in the family, Stephen had an especial contempt. She was quite a new body, and 'twas no good talking to her; she could not remember the good old times when the master was a young gentleman, and used to ride about the park on his Shetland pony, and learn to play at cricket and leap-frog; and then she dressed herself out smart, with gay ribands and silks, not befitting the housekeeper of Emmerton Hall, who ought to keep to the ancient fashion; and she would have young idle lads and lassies about the place, which was never known in his days, when everything was kept strict and in order; and, above all, she would never admit him and his pipe into the house, but turned away when she saw it, as if she was too fine a lady to bear what he knew she must have seen a hundred times in her father's farm kitchen. Mrs Bridget, on her part, quite returned the feeling; and though she acknowledged that Stephen might be very honest and trustworthy, and she would not for the world say a word against any one, yet she could not help hinting occasionally that he was growing old, and would be better by his own fireside than attempting to give directions which he could know nothing about; and certainly the air with which she was accustomed to turn her back upon him, and tell him, whenever he approached with his pipe, not to come near her with that thing in his mouth, would have been quite sufficient to deter a less adventurous person than Stephen from making a second attempt.

The steward's loud exclamation of "Sure, 'tis young madam and little miss!" was heard when he was still at some distance from the carriage, and he turned immediately to the house with the quickest step which his age and gouty foot would allow, that he might be ready to receive them.

"Well, 'tis a strange sight, to be sure," he said, as he lifted Amy from the carriage. "I thought Emmerton was never going to see any of you again; and I have said to myself fifty times within the last month, that, for certain, young madam couldn't have forgotten me, and my pretty little miss, too, who used to be here so often."

"Ah, but Stephen," said Amy, "poor mamma cannot walk so far as she did, and you know we have only the rector's carriage; but why don't you come to see us?"

"The gout, the gout, Miss Amy, that's what keeps me; in the old days, I could almost have run there and back in less than the hour, but 'tis all changed--house, and garden, and servants, 'tis all alike--and little it signifies what comes to me. But, madam," he added, turning to Mrs Herbert, "you'll be for walking in and resting yourself, and Mrs Bridget will attend upon you; she won't let me put foot within doors, if she can help it, since I last threw some tobacco on her new gown, which was more loss to me than to her, seeing 'twas all I had, and there was nobody to send to get some more."

"I want to talk to you first, Stephen, for a few minutes," said Mrs Herbert.

"Ah sure, ma'am," replied Stephen, "and 'twill do me good to listen; for there's no one here to whom one can talk that will understand, seeing they are all new,--all new;" and the old man's sigh almost amounted to a groan.

"I have had a letter from your master to-day, Stephen," said Mrs Herbert, fearing to impart too suddenly the death of his young favourite, Edward.

"Have you, ma'am? and does he say he's well, and the young gentlemen and ladies? 'tis the best I can hope to hear now."

"He does not wri

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