Dwell Deep; Or, Hilda Thorn's Life Story
Copyright© 2026 by Amy Le Feuvre
Chapter 4: An Opening for Work
‘Whoever fears God, fears to sit at ease.’—E. B. Browning.
‘Hilda, mother wants to speak to you in her boudoir. We have just been having a grand discussion about our dresses for the Walkers’ affair, and she wants to find out from you whether you are really going or not.’
I sighed as Nelly finished speaking.
I was picking some roses on the lawn, and Captain Gates had just sauntered out of the smoking-room, cigar in mouth.
It was such a lovely morning that I was meditating spending it in my favourite nook in the plantation, and for the time I had forgotten everything unpleasant.
‘You poor little creature!’ said Nelly sympathetically, ‘aren’t you tired of it? You have discussed the subject with father, given us a long preach last night, and now there still remains mother! Let me advise you, don’t be too outspoken with her. Constance told her about our dance last night, and mother seems to think that it must be pure wilfulness on your part if you still refuse to go with us.’
‘I wish I could be left alone,’ I said a little wistfully; ‘I shall only make your mother angry.’
‘Are you tired of showing your colours?’ questioned Captain Gates.
‘I hope not,’ I said in a brighter tone, and then I went into the house.
Mrs. Forsyth was kind at first, but when she saw that I was really determined she became vexed.
‘It is placing me in a very awkward position, Hilda. What excuse can I make for you? You have not even delicacy of health to account for your absence. I am anxious to take you about with my own daughters, and people will think I am purposely keeping you in the background. I do wish you had given us some intimation of these strange views before you came to live with us. It will be a continual annoyance to us.’
‘Do you think I had better go back to my cousin’s in London?’ I asked. ‘I really do not want to be such a trouble. If you would only let me be happy in my own way, and stay quietly at home, I should be so grateful, because you have all been so kind to me that I love to be here.’
‘I really don’t know what we shall do with you,’ Mrs. Forsyth replied, in a milder tone. ‘I believe General Forsyth has his own plans for you, and if you will not fall in with them, it would be better for us all that you should be away from us. However, of course, we cannot force you to go with us next Wednesday, so I must try and explain it as best I can to Lady Walker. I need hardly say that General Forsyth will not be at all pleased about it.’
I left her feeling rather downhearted. Looking at it from their point of view, I must be somewhat of a trial to them, and yet I knew I could not act otherwise.
As I was stepping out into the garden again, deep in thought, I was startled by the sudden appearance of little Roddy Walters from behind a large tree close to the house. His hands were full of yellow marsh marigolds and blue forget-me-nots.
‘Roddy has brought them for you,’ were his first words, as he caught sight of me.
I had seen the little fellow several times since our first meeting, but this was the first time that he had ventured to come up to the house to see me, though whenever I passed through the village he would run after me, and I had great difficulty in getting away from him.
‘How lovely!’ I exclaimed, as I took the bunch from his hot little hands; ‘but, Roddy, you ought to be at school. Have you run away?’
He laughed and nodded: ‘Bess Brown did take me to school, but she slapped me, and I runned away, and Jim tooked me down to the water, and we picked these booful flowers, and I loves you, and Jim said I might give ‘em to you.’
‘And who is Jim?’
‘Jim is waiting for me, Jim is, he’s sittin’ on the gate; you come and I’ll show you him.’
He led me down the avenue as fast as his little legs could carry him, and there on a side gate that led into some fields was a lad about fifteen. He got down directly he saw me, and I noticed that he was a cripple and had a crutch by his side.
‘Are you Jim?’ I asked.
‘Yes, mum!’
‘Don’t you know that Roddy ought to be at school? It isn’t right of you to encourage him to play truant.’
Jim laughed. ‘He’s such a little ‘un, he is.’
And then we drifted into talk. Jim told me he lived with his uncle, who was a cobbler, but he himself had no occupation except that of gathering wild flowers, and taking them into the market town near, twice a week. I found to my surprise that he could not read.
‘I was on my back for years when I might ‘a had my schoolin’, and when I was able to get about with my crutch I was that ‘shamed to go, being such a big ‘un, and such a dunce. Uncle Sam, he has a tried to teach me, but he has a awful temper, and says I’m that slow I aggrewate him into fits.’
‘How I wish I could teach you!’ I exclaimed; ‘wouldn’t you like to learn?’
‘Ay, shouldn’t I! but I’m an awful dullard.’
We talked a little longer. I took a great fancy to this thin lanky lad, with his great dark questioning eyes—he seemed lonely—and his affection for little Roddy was very touching. That afternoon the old rector happened to call while we were at tea, and I took the opportunity of asking him about the boy; he seemed quite pleased at my interest in him, and then of his own accord he broached the subject of Sunday School.
‘I should like to get one of you young ladies to have a class of the little ones on Sunday. I am an old man myself, and don’t feel up to it. I sometimes wish I had a wife or daughter to help me about these things. Mrs. Forsyth, what do you think about it?’
‘I have no doubt Miss Thorn would be delighted to do what you wish. She has already expressed a desire, I believe, to do something of the sort.’
Mrs. Forsyth’s tone was a little stiff, but I was so glad that she made no objection to the suggestion that I felt quite grateful to her. And before the rector left us he had settled that I should start a class the following Sunday afternoon from three to four in the vestry of the little church.
‘I will go round to my parishioners and let them know. Of course you will be prepared for very little ones, as the bigger ones attend a school a little distance off. And as for Jim Carter, if you can give him a reading lesson now and then in the week, I shall be delighted.’
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