David Herbert Lawrence

was a family _trait_.

Miss Frost mattered more than any one else to Alvina Houghton,

during the first long twenty-five years of the girl's life. The

governess was a strong, generous woman, a musician by nature. She

had a sweet voice, and sang in the choir of the chapel, and took the

first class of girls in the Sunday-School of which James Houghton

was Superintendent. She disliked and rather despised James Houghton,

saw in him elements of a hypocrite, detested his airy and gracious

selfishness, his lack of human feeling, and most of all, his fairy

fantasy. As James went further into life, he became a dreamer. Sad

indeed that he died before the days of Freud. He enjoyed the most

wonderful and fairy-like dreams, which he could describe perfectly,

in charming, delicate language. At such times his beautifully

modulated voice all but sang, his grey eyes gleamed fiercely under

his bushy, hairy eyebrows, his pale face with its side-whiskers had

a strange _lueur_, his long thin hands fluttered occasionally. He

had become meagre in figure, his skimpy but genteel coat would be

buttoned over his breast, as he recounted his dream-adventures,

adventures that were half Edgar Allan Poe, half Andersen, with

touches of Vathek and Lord Byron and George Macdonald: perhaps more

than a touch of the last. Ladies were always struck by these

accounts. But Miss Frost never felt so strongly moved to impatience

as when she was within hearing.

For twenty years, she and James Houghton treated each other with a

courteous distance. Sometimes she broke into open impatience with

him, sometimes he answered her tartly: "Indeed, indeed! Oh, indeed!

Well, well, I'm sorry you find it so--" as if the injury consisted

in her finding it so. Then he would flit away to the Conservative

Club, with a fleet, light, hurried step, as if pressed by fate. At

the club he played chess--at which he was excellent--and conversed.

Then he flitted back at half-past twelve, to dinner.

The whole morale of the house rested immediately on Miss Frost. She

saw her line in the first year. She must defend the little Alvina,

whom she loved as her own, and the nervous, petulant, heart-stricken

woman, the mother, from the vagaries of James. Not that James had

any vices. He did not drink or smoke, was abstemious and clean as an

anchorite, and never lowered his fine tone. But still, the two

unprotected ones must be sheltered from him. Miss Frost

imperceptibly took into her hands the reins of the domestic

government. Her rule was quiet, strong, and generous. She was not

seeking her own way. She was steering the poor domestic ship of

<<BackPagesTo menuForward>>