diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/3610-h.htm.2018-01-16')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/3610-h.htm.2018-01-16 | 42004 |
1 files changed, 42004 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/3610-h.htm.2018-01-16 b/old/3610-h.htm.2018-01-16 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a3dfcc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3610-h.htm.2018-01-16 @@ -0,0 +1,42004 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Daisy Chain, Or Aspirations, by Charlotte Yonge + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Daisy Chain, by Charlotte Yonge + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Daisy Chain + or Aspirations + +Author: Charlotte Yonge + +Release Date: February 2, 2010 [EBook #3610] +Last Updated: July 28, 2017 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DAISY CHAIN *** + + + + +Produced by Sandra Laythorpe, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE DAISY CHAIN, + </h1> + <h2> + OR ASPIRATIONS + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Charlotte Yonge + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>THE DAISY CHAIN</b> </a><br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART"> <b>PART 1.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART"> <b>PART II</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE. + </h2> + <p> + No one can be more sensible than is the Author that the present is an + overgrown book of a nondescript class, neither the “tale” for the young, + nor the novel for their elders, but a mixture of both. + </p> + <p> + Begun as a series of conversational sketches, the story outran both the + original intention and the limits of the periodical in which it was + commenced; and, such as it has become, it is here presented to those who + have already made acquaintance with the May family, and may be willing to + see more of them. It would beg to be considered merely as what it calls + itself, a Family Chronicle—a domestic record of home events, large + and small, during those years of early life when the character is chiefly + formed, and as an endeavour to trace the effects of those aspirations + which are a part of every youthful nature. That the young should take one + hint, to think whether their hopes and upward-breathings are truly + upwards, and founded in lowliness, may be called the moral of the tale. + </p> + <p> + For those who may deem the story too long, and the characters too + numerous, the Author can only beg their pardon for any tedium that they + may have undergone before giving it up. Feb. 22nd, 1856. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE DAISY CHAIN + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART 1. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Si douce est la Marguerite.—CHAUCER. +</pre> + <p> + “Miss Winter, are you busy? Do you want this afternoon? Can you take a + good long walk?” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, my dear, how often have I told you of your impetuosity—you + have forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well”—with an impatient twist—“I beg your pardon. + Good-morning, Miss Winter,” said a thin, lank, angular, sallow girl, just + fifteen, trembling from head to foot with restrained eagerness, as she + tried to curb her tone into the requisite civility. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Ethel, good-morning, Flora,” said the prim, middle-aged + daily governess, taking off her bonnet, and arranging the stiff little + rolls of curl at the long, narrow looking-glass, the border of which + distorted the countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning,” properly responded Flora, a pretty, fair girl, nearly two + years older than her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Will you—” began to burst from Etheldred’s lips again, but was + stifled by Miss Winter’s inquiry, “Is your mamma pretty well to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very well,” said both at once; “she is coming to the reading.” And + Flora added, “Papa is going to drive her out to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad. And the baby?” + </p> + <p> + “I do believe she does it on purpose!” whispered Ethel to herself, + wriggling fearfully on the wide window-seat on which she had precipitated + herself, and kicking at the bar of the table, by which manifestation she + of course succeeded in deferring her hopes, by a reproof which caused her + to draw herself into a rigid, melancholy attitude, a sort of penance of + decorum, but a rapid motion of the eyelids, a tendency to crack the joints + of the fingers, and an unquietness at the ends of her shoes, betraying the + restlessness of the digits therein contained. + </p> + <p> + It was such a room as is often to be found in old country town houses, the + two large windows looking out on a broad old-fashioned street, through + heavy framework, and panes of glass scratched with various names and + initials. The walls were painted blue, the skirting almost a third of the + height, and so wide at the top as to form a narrow shelf. The fireplace, + constructed in the days when fires were made to give as little heat as + possible, was ornamented with blue and white Dutch tiles bearing + marvellous representations of Scripture history, and was protected by a + very tall green guard; the chairs were much of the same date, solid and + heavy, the seats in faded carpet-work, but there was a sprinkling of + lesser ones and of stools; a piano; a globe; a large table in the middle + of the room, with three desks on it; a small one, and a light cane chair + by each window; and loaded book-cases. Flora began, “If you don’t want + this afternoon to yourself—” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was on her feet, and open-mouthed. “Oh, Miss Winter, if you would be + so kind as to walk to Cocksmoor with us!” + </p> + <p> + “To Cocksmoor, my dear!” exclaimed the governess in dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, but hear,” cried Ethel. “It is not for nothing. Yesterday—” + </p> + <p> + “No, the day before,” interposed Flora. + </p> + <p> + “There was a poor man brought into the hospital. He had been terribly hurt + in the quarry, and papa says he’ll die. He was in great distress, for his + wife has just got twins, and there were lots of children before. They want + everything—food and clothes—and we want to walk and take it.” + </p> + <p> + “We had a collection of clothes ready, luckily,” said Flora; “and we have + a blanket, and some tea and some arrowroot, and a bit of bacon, and mamma + says she does not think it too far for us to walk, if you will be so kind + as to go with us.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Winter looked perplexed. “How could you carry the blanket, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we have settled that,” said Ethel, “we mean to make the donkey a + sumpter-mule, so, if you are tired, you may ride home on her.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear, has your mamma considered? They are such a set of wild + people at Cocksmoor; I don’t think we could walk there alone.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Saturday,” said Ethel, “we can get the boys.” + </p> + <p> + “If you would reflect a little! They would be no protection. Harry would + be getting into scrapes, and you and Mary running wild.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish Richard was at home!” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I know!” cried Ethel. “Mr. Ernescliffe will come. I am sure he can walk + so far now. I’ll ask him.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel had clapped after her the heavy door with its shining brass lock, + before Miss Winter well knew what she was about, and the governess seemed + annoyed. “Ethel does not consider,” said she. “I don’t think your mamma + will be pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “My dear—a gentleman walking with you, especially if Margaret is + going!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think he is strong enough,” said Flora; “but I can’t think why + there should be any harm. Papa took us all out walking with him yesterday—little + Aubrey and all, and Mr. Ernescliffe went.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear—” + </p> + <p> + She was interrupted by the entrance of a fine tall blooming girl of + eighteen, holding in her hand a pretty little maid of five. “Good-morning. + Miss Winter. I suppose Flora has told you the request we have to make to + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Margaret, but did your mamma consider what a lawless place + Cocksmoor is?” + </p> + <p> + “That was the doubt,” said Margaret, “but papa said he would answer for it + nothing would happen to us, and mamma said if you would be so kind.” + </p> + <p> + “It is unlucky,” began the governess, but stopped at the incursion of some + new-comers, nearly tumbling over each other, Ethel at the head of them. + “Oh, Harry!” as the gathers of her frock gave way in the rude grasp of a + twelve-year-old boy. “Miss Winter, ‘tis all right—Mr. Ernescliffe + says he is quite up to the walk, and will like it very much, and he will + undertake to defend you from the quarrymen.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Miss Winter afraid of the quarrymen?” hallooed Harry. “Shall I take a + club?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take my gun and shoot them,” valiantly exclaimed Tom; and while + threats were passing among the boys, Margaret asked, in a low voice, “Did + you ask him to come with us?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he said he should like it of all things. Papa was there, and said it + was not too far for him—besides, there’s the donkey. Papa says it, + so we must go, Miss Winter.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Winter glanced unutterable things at Margaret, and Ethel began to + perceive she had done something wrong. Flora was going to speak, when + Margaret, trying to appear unconscious of a certain deepening colour in + her own cheeks, pressed a hand on her shoulder, and whispering, “I’ll see + about it. Don’t say any more, please,” glided out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “What’s in the wind?” said Harry. “Are many of your reefs out there, + Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “Harry can talk nothing but sailors’ language,” said Flora, “and I am sure + he did not learn that of Mr. Ernescliffe. You never hear slang from him.” + </p> + <p> + “But aren’t we going to Cocksmoor?” asked Mary, a blunt downright girl of + ten. + </p> + <p> + “We shall know soon,” said Ethel. “I suppose I had better wait till after + the reading to mend that horrid frock?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, since we are so nearly collected,” said Miss Winter; and + Ethel, seating herself on the corner of the window-seat, with one leg + doubled under her, took up a Shakespeare, holding it close to her eyes, + and her brother Norman, who, in age, came between her and Flora, kneeling + on one knee on the window-seat, and supporting himself with one arm + against the shutter, leaned over her, reading it too, disregarding a + tumultuous skirmish going on in that division of the family collectively + termed “the boys,” namely, Harry, Mary, and Tom, until Tom was suddenly + pushed down, and tumbled over into Ethel’s lap, thereby upsetting her and + Norman together, and there was a general downfall, and a loud scream, “The + sphynx!” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve crushed it,” cried Harry, dealing out thumps indiscriminately. + </p> + <p> + “No, here ‘tis,” said Mary, rushing among them, and bringing out a green + sphynx caterpillar on her finger—“‘tis not hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “Pax! Pax!” cried Norman, over all, with the voice of an authority, as he + leaped up lightly and set Tom on his legs again. “Harry! you had better do + that again,” he added warningly. “Be off, out of this window, and let + Ethel and me read in peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the place,” said Ethel—“Crispin, Crispian’s day. How I do + like Henry V.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no use to try to keep those boys in order!” sighed Miss Winter. + </p> + <p> + “Saturnalia, as papa calls Saturday,” replied Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Is not your eldest brother coming home to-day?” said Miss Winter in a low + voice to Flora, who shook her head, and said confidentially, “He is not + coming till he has passed that examination. He thinks it better not.” + </p> + <p> + Here entered, with a baby in her arms, a lady with a beautiful countenance + of calm sweetness, looking almost too young to be the mother of the tall + Margaret, who followed her. There was a general hush as she greeted Miss + Winter, the girls crowding round to look at their little sister, not quite + six weeks old. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Margaret, will you take her up to the nursery?” said the mother, + while the impatient speech was repeated, “Mamma, can we go to Cocksmoor?” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t think it will be too far for you?” said the mother to Miss + Winter as Margaret departed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, not at all, thank you, that was not—But Margaret has + explained.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, poor Margaret,” said Mrs. May, smiling. “She has settled it by + choosing to stay at home with me. It is no matter for the others, and he + is going on Monday, so that it will not happen again.” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret has behaved very well,” said Miss Winter. + </p> + <p> + “She has indeed,” said her mother, smiling. “Well, Harry, how is the + caterpillar?” + </p> + <p> + “They’ve just capsized it, mamma,” answered Harry, “and Mary is making all + taut.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. May laughed, and proceeded to advise Ethel and Norman to put away + Henry V., and find the places in their Bibles, “or you will have the + things mixed together in your heads,” said she. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Margaret, with the little babe, to-morrow to be her + godchild, lying gently in her arms, came out into the matted hall, and + began to mount the broad shallow-stepped staircase, protected by low stout + balusters, with a very thick, flat, and solid mahogany hand-rail, polished + by the boys’ constant riding up and down upon it. She was only on the + first step, when the dining-room door opened, and there came out a young + man, slight, and delicate-looking, with bright blue eyes, and + thickly-curling light hair. “Acting nurse?” he said, smiling. “What an odd + little face it is! I didn’t think little white babies were so pretty! + Well, I shall always consider myself as the real godfather—the other + is all a sham.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” said Margaret; “but I must not stand with her in a draught,” + and on she went, while he called after her. “So we are to have an + expedition to-day.” + </p> + <p> + She did not gainsay it, but there was a little sigh of disappointment, and + when she was out of hearing, she whispered, “Oh! lucky baby, to have so + many years to come before you are plagued with troublesome propriety!” + </p> + <p> + Then depositing her little charge with the nurse, and trying to cheer up a + solemn-looking boy of three, who evidently considered his deposition from + babyhood as a great injury, she tripped lightly down again, to take part + in the Saturday’s reading and catechising. + </p> + <p> + It was pleasant to see that large family in the hush and reverence of such + teaching, the mother’s gentle power preventing the outbreaks of + restlessness to which even at such times the wild young spirits were + liable. Margaret and Miss Winter especially rejoiced in it on this + occasion, the first since the birth of the baby, that she had been able to + preside. Under her, though seemingly without her taking any trouble, there + was none of the smothered laughing at the little mistakes, the fidgeting + of the boys, or Harry’s audacious impertinence to Miss Winter; and no less + glad was Harry to have his mother there, and be guarded from himself. + </p> + <p> + The Catechism was repeated, and a comment on the Sunday Services read + aloud. The Gospel was that on the taking the lowest place, and when they + had finished, Ethel said, “I like the verse which explains that: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘They who now sit lowest here, + When their Master shall appear, + He shall bid them higher rise, + And be highest in the skies.’” + </pre> + <p> + “I did not think of that being the meaning of ‘when He that bade thee + cometh,’” said Norman thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed to be only our worldly advantage that was meant before,” said + Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it means that too,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it does,” said Mrs. May; “but the higher sense is the one + chiefly to be dwelt on. It is a lesson how those least known and regarded + here, and humblest in their own eyes, shall be the highest hereafter.” + </p> + <p> + And Margaret looked earnestly at her mother, but did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “May we go, mamma?” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you three—all of you, indeed, unless you wish to say any + more.” + </p> + <p> + The “boys” availed themselves of the permission. Norman tarried to put his + books into a neat leather case, and Ethel stood thinking. “It means + altogether—it is a lesson against ambition,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “True,” said her mother, “the love of eminence for its own sake.” + </p> + <p> + “And in so many different ways!” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, worldly greatness, riches, rank, beauty,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “All sorts of false flash and nonsense, and liking to be higher than one + ought to be,” said Norman. “I am sure there is nothing lower, or more mean + and shabby, than getting places and praise a fellow does not deserve.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” cried Ethel, “but no one fit to speak to would do that!” + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of people do, I can tell you,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Then I hope I shall never know who they are!” exclaimed Ethel. “But I’ll + tell you what I was thinking of, mamma. Caring to be clever, and get on, + only for the sake of beating people.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that might be better expressed.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Ethel, bending her brow, with the fullness of her thought—“I + mean caring to do a thing only because nobody else can do it—wanting + to be first more than wanting to do one’s best.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right, my dear Ethel,” said her mother; “and I am glad you + have found in the Gospel a practical lesson, that should be useful to you + both. I had rather you did so than that you read it in Greek, though that + is very nice too,” she added, smiling, as she put her hand on a little + Greek Testament, in which Ethel had been reading it, within her English + Bible. “Now, go and mend that deplorable frock, and if you don’t dream + over it, you won’t waste too much of your holiday.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll get it done in no time!” cried Ethel, rushing headlong upstairs, + twice tripping in it before she reached the attic, where she slept, as + well as Flora and Mary—a large room in the roof, the windows gay + with bird-cages and flowers, a canary singing loud enough to deafen any + one but girls to whom headaches were unknown, plenty of books and + treasures, and a very fine view, from the dormer window, of the town + sloping downwards, and the river winding away, with some heathy hills in + the distance. Poking and peering about with her short-sighted eyes, Ethel + lighted on a work-basket in rare disorder, pulled off her frock, threw on + a shawl, and sat down cross-legged on her bed, stitching vigorously, while + meantime she spouted with great emphasis an ode of Horace, which Norman + having learned by heart, she had followed his example; it being her great + desire to be even with him in all his studies, and though eleven months + younger, she had never yet fallen behind him. On Saturday, he showed her + what were his tasks for the week, and as soon as her rent was repaired, + she swung herself downstairs in search of him for this purpose. She found + him in the drawing-room, a pretty, pleasant room—its only fault that + it was rather too low. It had windows opening down to the lawn, and was + full of pretty things, works and knick-knacks. Ethel found the state of + affairs unfavourable to her. Norman was intent on a book on the sofa, and + at the table sat Mr. Ernescliffe, hard at work with calculations and + mathematical instruments. Ethel would not for the world that any one + should guess at her classical studies—she scarcely liked to believe + that even her father knew of them, and to mention them before Mr. + Ernescliffe would have been dreadful. So she only shoved Norman, and asked + him to come. + </p> + <p> + “Presently,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What have you here?” said she, poking her head into the book. “Oh! no + wonder you can’t leave off. I’ve been wanting you to read it all the + week.” + </p> + <p> + She read over him a few minutes, then recoiled: “I forgot, mamma told me + not to read those stories in the morning. Only five minutes, Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit, I’ll come.” + </p> + <p> + She fidgeted, till Mr. Ernescliffe asked Norman if there was a table of + logarithms in the house. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” she answered; “don’t you know, Norman? In a brown book on the + upper shelf in the dining-room. Don’t you remember papa’s telling us the + meaning of them, when we had the grand book-dusting?” + </p> + <p> + He was conscious of nothing but his book; however, she found the + logarithms, and brought them to Mr. Ernescliffe, staying to look at his + drawing, and asking what he was making out. He replied, smiling at the + impossibility of her understanding, but she wrinkled her brown forehead, + hooked her long nose, and spent the next hour in amateur navigation. + </p> + <p> + Market Stoneborough was a fine old town. The Minster, grand with the + architecture of the time of Henry III., stood beside a broad river, and + round it were the buildings of a convent, made by a certain good Bishop + Whichcote, the nucleus of a grammar school, which had survived the + Reformation, and trained up many good scholars; among them, one of + England’s princely merchants, Nicholas Randall, whose effigy knelt in a + niche in the chancel wall, scarlet-cloaked, white-ruffed, and black + doubletted, a desk bearing an open Bible before him, and a twisted pillar + of Derbyshire spar on each side. He was the founder of thirteen + almshouses, and had endowed two scholarships at Oxford, the object of + ambition of the Stoneborough boys, every eighteen months. + </p> + <p> + There were about sixty or seventy boarders, and the town boys slept at + home, and spent their weekly holiday there on Saturday—the happiest + day in the week to the May family, when alone, they had the company at + dinner of Norman and Harry, otherwise known by their school names of June + and July, given them because their elder brother had begun the series of + months as May. + </p> + <p> + Some two hundred years back, a Dr. Thomas May had been headmaster, but + ever since that time there had always been an M. D., not a D. D., in the + family, owning a comfortable demesne of spacious garden, and field enough + for two cows, still green and intact, among modern buildings and + improvements. + </p> + <p> + The present Dr. May stood very high in his profession, and might soon have + made a large fortune in London, had he not held fast to his home + attachments. He was extremely skilful and clever, with a boyish character + that seemed as if it could never grow older; ardent, sensitive, and + heedless, with a quickness of sympathy and tenderness of heart that was + increased, rather than blunted, by exercise in scenes of suffering. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the previous summer holidays, Dr. May had been called one + morning to attend a gentleman who had been taken very ill, at the Swan + Inn. + </p> + <p> + He was received by a little boy of ten years old, in much grief, + explaining that his brother had come two days ago from London, to bring + him to school here; he had seemed unwell ever since they met, and last + night had become much worse. And extremely ill the doctor found him; a + youth of two or three and twenty, suffering under a severe attack of + fever, oppressed, and scarcely conscious, so as quite to justify his + little brother’s apprehensions. He advised the boy to write to his family, + but was answered by a look that went to his heart—“Alan” was all he + had in the world—father and mother were dead, and their relations + lived in Scotland, and were hardly known to them. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been living, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Alan sent me to school at Miss Lawler’s when my mother died, and there I + have been ever since, while he has been these three years and a half on + the African station.” + </p> + <p> + “What, is he in the navy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the boy proudly, “Lieutenant Ernescliffe. He got his promotion + last week. My father was in the battle of Trafalgar; and Alan has been + three years in the West Indies, and then he was in the Mediterranean, and + now on the coast of Africa, in the Atalantis. You must have heard about + him, for it was in the newspaper, how, when he was mate, he had the + command of the Santa Isabel, the slaver they captured.” + </p> + <p> + The boy would have gone on for ever, if Dr. May had not recalled him to + his brother’s present condition, and proceeded to take every measure for + the welfare and comfort of the forlorn pair. He learned from other sources + that the Ernescliffes were well connected. The father had been a + distinguished officer, but had been ill able to provide for his sons; + indeed, he died, without ever having seen little Hector, who was born + during his absence on a voyage—his last, and Alan’s first. Alan, the + elder by thirteen years, had been like a father to the little boy, showing + judgment and self-denial that marked him of a high cast of character. He + had distinguished himself in encounters with slave ships, and in command + of a prize that he had had to conduct to Sierra Leone, he had shown great + coolness and seamanship, in several perilous conjunctures, such as a + sudden storm, and an encounter with another slaver, when his Portuguese + prisoners became mutinous, and nothing but his steadiness and intrepidity + had saved the lives of himself and his few English companions. He was, in + fact, as Dr. May reported, pretty much of a hero. He had not, at the time, + felt the effects of the climate, but, owing to sickness and death among + the other officers, he had suffered much fatigue and pressure of mind and + body. Immediately on his return, had followed his examination, and though + he had passed with great credit, and it had been at once followed by + well-earned promotion, his nervous excitable frame had been overtasked, + and the consequence was a long and severe illness. + </p> + <p> + The Swan Inn was not forty yards from Dr. May’s back gate, and, at every + spare moment, he was doing the part of nurse as well as doctor, + professionally obliged to Alan Ernescliffe for bringing him a curious + exotic specimen of fever, and requiting him by the utmost care and + attention, while, for their own sakes, he delighted in the two boys with + all the enthusiasm of his warm heart. Before the first week was at an end, + they had learned to look on the doctor as one of the kindest friends it + had been their lot to meet with, and Alan knew that if he died, he should + leave his little brother in the hands of one who would comfort him as a + father. + </p> + <p> + No sooner was young Ernescliffe able to sit up, than Dr. May insisted on + conveying him to his own house, as his recovery was likely to be tedious + in solitude at the Swan. It was not till he had been drawn in a chair + along the sloping garden, and placed on the sofa to rest, that he + discovered that the time the good doctor had chosen for bringing a + helpless convalescent to his house, was two days after an eleventh child + had been added to his family. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. May was too sorry for the solitary youth, and too sympathising with + her husband, to make any objection, though she was not fond of strangers, + and had some anxieties. She had the utmost dependence on Margaret’s + discretion, but there was a chance of awkward situations, which papa was + not likely to see or guard against. However, all seemed to do very well, + and no one ever came into her room without some degree of rapture about + Mr. Ernescliffe. The doctor reiterated praises of his excellence, his + principle, his ability and talent, his amusing talk; the girls were always + bringing reports of his perfections; Norman retracted his grumbling at + having his evenings spoiled; and “the boys” were bursting with the secret + that he was teaching them to rig a little ship that was to astonish mamma + on her first coming downstairs, and to be named after the baby; while + Blanche did all the coquetry with him, from which Margaret abstained. The + universal desire was for mamma to see him, and when the time came, she + owned that papa’s swan had not turned out a goose. + </p> + <p> + There were now no grounds for prolonging his stay; but it was very hard to + go, and he was glad to avail himself of the excuse of remaining for the + christening, when he was to represent the absent godfather. After that, he + must go; he had written to his Scottish cousins to offer a visit, and he + had a promise that he should soon be afloat again. No place would ever + seem to him so like home as Market Stoneborough. He was quite like one of + themselves, and took a full share in the discussions on the baby’s name, + which, as all the old family appellations had been used up, was an open + question. The doctor protested against Alice and Edith, which he said were + the universal names in the present day. The boys hissed every attempt of + their sisters at a romantic name, and then Harry wanted it to be + Atalantis! At last Dr. May announced that he should have her named + Dowsabel if they did not agree, and Mrs. May advised all the parties + concerned to write their choice on a slip of paper, and little Aubrey + should draw two out of her bag, trusting that Atalantis Dowsabel would not + come out, as Harry confidently predicted. + </p> + <p> + However, it was even worse, Aubrey’s two lots were Gertrude and Margaret. + Ethel and Mary made a vehement uproar to discover who could have written + Margaret, and at last traced it home to Mr. Ernescliffe, who replied that + Flora, without saying why, had desired him to set down his favourite name. + He was much disconcerted, and did not materially mend the matter by saying + it was the first name that came into his head. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Meadows trim with daisies pied.—MILTON. +</pre> + <p> + Ethel’s navigation lesson was interrupted by the dinner-bell. That long + table was a goodly sight. Few ever looked happier than Dr. and Mrs. May, + as they sat opposite to each other, presenting a considerable contrast in + appearance as in disposition. She was a little woman, with that smooth + pleasant plumpness that seems to belong to perfect content and serenity, + her complexion fair and youthful, her face and figure very pretty, and + full of quiet grace and refinement, and her whole air and expression + denoting a serene, unruffled, affectionate happiness, yet with much + authority in her mildness—warm and open in her own family, but + reserved beyond it, and shrinking from general society. + </p> + <p> + The doctor, on the contrary, had a lank, bony figure, nearly six feet + high, and looking more so from his slightness; a face sallow, thin, and + strongly marked, an aquiline nose, highly developed forehead, and peculiar + temples, over which the hair strayed in thin curling flakes. His eyes were + light coloured, and were seldom seen without his near-sighted spectacles, + but the expressions of the mouth were everything—so varying, so + bright, and so sweet were his smiles that showed beautiful white teeth—moreover, + his hand was particularly well made, small and delicate; and it always + turned out that no one ever recollected that Dr. May was plain, who had + heard his kindly greeting. + </p> + <p> + The sons and daughters were divided in likeness to father and mother; + Ethel was almost an exaggeration of the doctor’s peculiarities, especially + at the formed, but unsoftened age of fifteen; Norman had his long nose, + sallow complexion, and tall figure, but was much improved by his mother’s + fine blue eyes, and was a very pleasant-looking boy, though not handsome; + little Tom was a thin, white, delicate edition of his father; and Blanche + contrived to combine great likeness to him with a great deal of + prettiness. Of those that, as nurse said, favoured their mamma, Margaret + was tall and blooming, with the same calm eyes, but with the brilliance of + her father’s smile; Flora had greater regularity of feature, and was fast + becoming a very pretty girl, while Mary and Harry could not boast of much + beauty, but were stout sturdy pictures of health; Harry’s locks in masses + of small tight yellow curls, much given to tangling and matting, unfit to + be seen all the week, till nurse put him to torture every Saturday, by + combing them out so as, at least, to make him for once like, she said, a + gentleman, instead of a young lion. + </p> + <p> + Little Aubrey was said by his papa to be like nothing but the full moon. + And there he shone on them, by his mamma’s side, announcing in language + few could understand, where he had been with papa. + </p> + <p> + “He has been a small doctor,” said his father, beginning to cut the boiled + beef as fast as if his hands had been moved by machinery. “He has been + with me to see old Mrs. Robins, and she made so much of him, that if I + take him again he’ll be regularly spoiled.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old woman, it must have been a pleasure to her,” said Mrs. May—“it + is so seldom she has any change.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” asked Mr. Ernescliffe. + </p> + <p> + “The butcher’s old mother,” said Margaret, who was next to him. “She is + one of papa’s pet patients, because he thinks her desolate and ill-used.” + </p> + <p> + “Her sons bully her,” said the doctor, too intent on carving to perceive + certain deprecatory glances of caution cast at him by his wife, to remind + him of the presence of man and maid—“and that smart daughter is + worse still. She never comes to see the old lady but she throws her into + an agitated state, fit to bring on another attack. A meek old soul, not + fit to contend with them!” + </p> + <p> + “Why do they do it?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “For the cause of all evil! That daughter marries a grazier, and wants to + set up for gentility; she comes and squeezes presents out of her mother, + and the whole family are distrusting each other, and squabbling over the + spoil before the poor old creature is dead! It makes one sick! I gave that + Mrs. Thorn a bit of my mind at last; I could not stand the sight any + longer. Madam, said I, you’ll have to answer for your mother’s death, as + sure as my name’s Dick May—a harpy dressed up in feathers and lace.” + </p> + <p> + There was a great laugh, and an entreaty to know whether this was really + his address—Ethel telling him she knew he had muttered it to himself + quite audibly, for which she was rewarded by a pretended box on the ear. + It certainly was vain to expect order at dinner on Saturday, for the + doctor was as bad as the boys, and Mrs. May took it with complete + composure, hardly appearing sensible of the Babel which would sometimes + almost deafen its promoter, papa; and yet her interference was + all-powerful, as now when Harry and Mary were sparring over the salt, with + one gentle “Mary!” and one reproving glance, they were reduced to + quiescence. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Dr. May, in a voice above the tumult, was telling “Maggie,” as + he always called his wife, some piece of news about Mr. Rivers, who had + bought Abbotstoke Grange; and Alan Ernescliffe, in much lower tones, + saying to Margaret how he delighted in the sight of these home scenes, and + this free household mirth. + </p> + <p> + “It is the first time you have seen us in perfection,” said Margaret, + “with mamma at the head of the table—no, not quite perfection + either, without Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to have seen it,” repeated Alan. “What a blessing it must + be to your brothers to have such a home!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” said Margaret earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot fancy any advantage in life equal to it. Your father and mother + so entirely one with you all.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret smiled, too much pleased to speak, and glanced at her mother’s + sweet face. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t think how often I shall remember it, or how rejoiced I—” + He broke off, for the noise subsided, and his speech was not intended for + the public ear, so he dashed into the general conversation, and catching + his own name, exclaimed, “What’s that base proposal, Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “To put you on the donkey,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “They want to see a sailor riding,” interposed the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. May!” cried the indignant voice of Hector Ernescliffe, as his honest + Scottish face flushed like a turkey cock, “I assure you that Alan rides + like—” + </p> + <p> + “Like a horse marine,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + Hector and Harry both looked furious, but “June” was too great a man in + their world for them to attempt any revenge, and it was left for Mary to + call out, “Why, Norman, nonsense! Mr. Ernescliffe rode the new black + kicking horse till he made it quite steady.” + </p> + <p> + “Made it steady! No, Mary, that is saying too much for it,” said Mr. + Ernescliffe. + </p> + <p> + “It has no harm in it—capital horse—splendid,” said the + doctor; “I shall take you out with it this afternoon, Maggie.” + </p> + <p> + “You have driven it several times?” said Alan. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I drove him to Abbotstoke yesterday—never started, except at a + fool of a woman with an umbrella, and at the train—and we’ll take + care not to meet that.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only to avoid the viaduct at half-past four,” said Mrs. May, “and + that is easily done.” + </p> + <p> + “So you are bound for Cocksmoor?” said the doctor. “I told the poor fellow + you were going to see his wife, and he was so thankful, that it did one’s + heart good.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he better? I should like to tell his wife,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + The doctor screwed up his face. “A bad business,” he said; “he is a shade + better to-day; he may get through yet; but he is not my patient. I only + saw him because I happened to be there when he was brought in, and Ward + was not in the way.” + </p> + <p> + “And what’s his name?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell—don’t think I ever heard.” + </p> + <p> + “We ought to know,” said Miss Winter; “it would be awkward to go without.” + </p> + <p> + “To go roaming about Cocksmoor asking where the man in the hospital + lives!” said Flora. “We can’t wait till Monday.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve done,” said Norman; “I’ll run down to the hospital and find out. May + I, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Without your pudding, old fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want pudding,” said Norman, slipping back his chair. “May I, + mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure you may;” and Norman, with a hand on the back of Ethel’s + chair, took a flying leap over his own, that set all the glasses ringing. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, stop! know what you are going after, sir,” cried his father. “What + will they know there of Cocksmoor, or the man whose wife has twins? You + must ask for the accident in number five.” + </p> + <p> + “And oh, Norman, come back in time!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be bound I’m back before Etheldred the Unready wants me,” he + answered, bounding off with an elasticity that caused his mother to say + the boy was made of india-rubber; and then putting his head in by the + window to say, “By-the-bye, if there’s any pudding owing to me, that + little chorister fellow of ours, Bill Blake, has got a lot of voracious + brothers that want anything that’s going. Tom and Blanche might take it + down to ‘em; I’m off! Hooray!” and he scampered headlong up the garden, + prolonging his voice into a tremendous shout as he got farther off, + leaving every one laughing, and his mother tenderly observing that he was + going to run a quarter of a mile and back, and lose his only chance of + pudding for the week—old Bishop Whichcote’s rules contemplating no + fare but daily mutton, to be bought at a shilling per sheep. A little + private discussion ensued between Harry and Hector on the merits of the + cakes at Ballhatchet’s gate, and old Nelly’s pies, which led the doctor to + mourn over the loss of the tarts of the cranberries, that used to grow on + Cocksmoor, before it was inhabited, and to be the delight of the scholars + of Stoneborough, when he was one of them—and then to enchant the + boys by relations of ancient exploits, especially his friend Spencer + climbing up, and engraving a name on the top of the market cross, now no + more—swept away by the Town Council in a fit of improvement, which + had for the last twenty years enraged the doctor at every remembrance of + it. Perhaps at this moment his wife could hardly sympathise, when she + thought of her boys emulating such deeds. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Ethel, “will you lend me a pair of spectacles for the walk?” + </p> + <p> + “And make yourself one, Ethel,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care—I want to see the view.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very bad for you, Ethel,” further added her mother; “you will make + your sight much shorter if you accustom your eyes to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mamma, I never do wear them about the house.” + </p> + <p> + “For a very good reason,” said Margaret; “because you haven’t got them.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I believe Harry stole them in the holidays.” + </p> + <p> + “Stole them!” said the doctor; “as if they weren’t my property, + unjustifiably appropriated by her!” + </p> + <p> + “They were that pair that you never could keep on, papa,” said Ethel—“no + use at all to you. Come, do lend me them.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I shan’t let you wear them,” said Harry. “I shan’t go, if you + choose to make yourself such an object.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the father, “the boys thought it time to put a stop to it when + it came to a caricature of the little doctor in petticoats.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in Norman’s Lexicon,” said Ethel, “a capital likeness of you, papa; + but I never could get him to tell me who drew it.” + </p> + <p> + Nor did Ethel know that that caricature had been the cause of the black + eye that Harry had brought home last summer. Harry returned, to protest + that he would not join the walk, if she chose to be seen in the + spectacles, while she undauntedly continued her petition, though answered + that she would attract the attacks of the quarrymen, who would take her + for an attenuated owl. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you were obliged to go about without them yourself, papa!” cried + Ethel, “and then you would know how tiresome it is not to see twice the + length of your own nose.” + </p> + <p> + “Not such a very short allowance either,” said the doctor quaintly, and + therewith the dinner concluded. There was apt to be a race between the two + eldest girls for the honour of bringing down the baby; but this time their + father strode up three steps at once, turned at the top of the first + flight, made his bow to them, and presently came down with his little + daughter in his arms, nodded triumphantly at the sisters, and set her down + on her mother’s lap. + </p> + <p> + “There, Maggie, you are complete, you old hen-and-chicken daisy. Can’t you + take her portrait in the character, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “With her pink cap, and Blanche and Aubrey as they are now, on each side?” + said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret ought to be in the picture herself,” said Ethel. “Fetch the + artist in Norman’s Lexicon, Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “Since he has hit off one of us so well,” said the doctor. “Well! I’m off. + I must see old Southern. You’ll be ready by three? Good-bye, hen and + chicken.” + </p> + <p> + “And I may have the spectacles?” said Ethel, running after him; “you know + I am an injured individual, for mamma won’t let me carry baby about the + house because I am so blind.” + </p> + <p> + “You are welcome to embellish yourself, as far as I am concerned.” + </p> + <p> + A general dispersion ensued, and only Mrs. May, Margaret, and the baby, + remained. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” sighed Margaret; “you can’t be the hen-and-chicken daisy + properly, without all your chickens. It is the first christening we ever + had without our all being there.” + </p> + <p> + “It was best not to press it, my dear,” said her mother. “Your papa would + have had his thoughts turned to the disappointment again and it makes + Richard himself so unhappy to see his vexation, that I believe it is + better not to renew it.” + </p> + <p> + “But to miss him for so long!” said Margaret. “Perhaps it is best, for it + is very miserable when papa is sarcastic and sharp, and he cannot + understand it, and takes it as meaning so much more than it really does, + and grows all the more frightened and diffident. I cannot think what he + would do without you to encourage him.” + </p> + <p> + “Or you, you good sister,” said her mother, smiling. “If we could only + teach him not to mind being laughed at, and to have some confidence in + himself, he and papa would get on together.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very hard,” cried Margaret, almost indignantly, “that papa won’t + believe it, when he does his best.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think papa can bear to bring himself to believe that it is his + best.” + </p> + <p> + “He is too clever himself to see how other people can be slow,” said + Margaret; “and yet”—the tears came into her eyes—“I cannot + bear to think of his telling Richard it was no use to think of being a + clergyman, and he had better turn carpenter at once, just because he + failed in his examination.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I wish you would forget that,” said Mrs. May. “You know papa + sometimes says more than he means, and he was excessively vexed and + disappointed. I know he was pleased with Ritchie’s resolve not to come + home again till he had passed, and it is best that it should not be + broken.” + </p> + <p> + “The whole vacation, studying so hard, and this christening!” said + Margaret; “it is treating him as if he had done wrong. I do believe Mr. + Ernescliffe thinks he has—for papa always turns away the + conversation if his name is mentioned! I wish you would explain it, mamma; + I can’t bear that.” + </p> + <p> + “If I can,” said Mrs. May, rather pleased that Margaret had taken on + herself this vindication of her favourite brother her father’s expense. + “But, after all, Margaret, I never feel quite sure that poor Ritchie does + exert himself to the utmost, he is too desponding to make the most of + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “And the more vexed papa is, the worse it grows!” said Margaret. “It is + provoking, though. How I do wish sometimes to give Ritchie a jog, when + there is some stumbling-block that he sticks fast at. Don’t you remember + those sums, and those declensions? When he is so clear and sensible about + practical matters too—anything but learning—I cannot think why—and + it is very mortifying!” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say it is very good for us not to have our ambition gratified,” + said her mother. “There are so many troubles worse than these failures, + that it only shows how happy we are that we should take them so much to + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “They are a very real trouble!” said Margaret. “Don’t smile, mamma. Only + remember how wretched his schooldays were, when papa could not see any + difficulty in what to him was so hard, and how all papa’s eagerness only + stupified him the more.” + </p> + <p> + “They are a comfort not to have that over again! Yet,” said the mother, “I + often think there is more fear for Norman. I dread his talent and success + being snares.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no self-sufficiency about him,” said Margaret. +</p> + <p> +“I hope not, and + he is so transparent, that it would be laughed down at the first bud: but + the universal good report, and certainty of success, and being so often + put in comparison with Richard, is hardly safe. I was very glad he heard + what Ethel said to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel spoke very deeply,” said Margaret; “I was a good deal struck by it—she + often comes out with such solid thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “She is an excellent companion for Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “The desire of being first!” said Margaret, “I suppose that is a form of + caring for oneself! It set me thinking a good deal, mamma, how many forms + of ambition there are. The craving for rank, or wealth, or beauty, are so + clearly wrong, that one does not question about them; but I suppose, as + Ethel said, the caring to be first in attainments is as bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Or in affection,” said Mrs. May. + </p> + <p> + “In affection—oh, mamma, there is always some one person with whom + one is first!” said Margaret eagerly; and then, her colour deepening, as + she saw her mother looking at her, she said hastily, “Ritchie—I + never considered it—but I know—it is my great pleasure—oh, + mamma!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, I do not say but that you are the first with Richard, and + that you well deserve to be so; but is the seeking to be the first even in + that way safe? Is it not self-seeking again?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps it is. I know it is what makes jealousy.” + </p> + <p> + “The only plan is not to think about ourselves at all,” said Mrs. May. + “Affection is round us like sunshine, and there is no use in measuring and + comparing. We must give it out freely ourselves, hoping for nothing + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma, you don’t mean that!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I should have said, bargaining for nothing again. It will come of + itself, if we don’t exact it; but rivalry is the sure means of driving it + away, because that is trying to get oneself worshipped.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, then, you have never thought of it,” said Margaret, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it would have been rather absurd,” said Mrs. May, laughing, “to + begin to torment myself whether you were all fond of me! You all have just + as much affection for me, from beginning to end, as is natural, and what’s + the use of thinking about it? No, no, Margaret, don’t go and protest that + you love me, more than is natural,” as Margaret looked inclined to say + something very eager, “that would be in the style of Regan and Goneril. It + will be natural by-and-by that you should, some of you, love some one else + better, and if I cared for being first, what should I do then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma! But,” said Margaret suddenly, “you are always sure of papa.” + </p> + <p> + “In one way, yes,” said Mrs. May; “but how do I know how long—” Calm + as she was, she could not finish that sentence. “No, Margaret, depend upon + it, the only security is not to think about ourselves at all, and not to + fix our mind on any affection on earth. The least share of the Love above + is the fullness of all blessing, and if we seek that first, all these + things will be added unto us, and are,” she whispered, more to herself + than to Margaret. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wee modest crimson-tipped flower, + Thou’st met me in an evil hour, + For I maun crush amang the stoure + Thy slender stem. + To spare thee now is past my power, + Thou bonnie gem. + BURNS. +</pre> + <p> + “Is this all the walking party?” exclaimed Mr. Ernescliffe, as Miss + Winter, Flora, and Norman gathered in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Harry won’t go because of Ethel’s spectacles,” answered Flora; “and Mary + and he are inseparable, so they are gone with Hector to have a shipwreck + in the field.” + </p> + <p> + “And your other sisters?” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret has ratted—she is going to drive out with mamma,” said + Norman; “as to Etheldred the Unready, I’ll run up and hurry her.” + </p> + <p> + In a moment he was at her door. “Oh! Norman, come in. Is it time?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so! You’re keeping every one waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! go on; only just tell me the past participle of ‘offero’, and + I’ll catch you up.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Oblatus.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, how stupid. The ‘a’ long or short? Then that’s right. I had such + a line in my head, I was forced to write it down. Is not it a capital + subject this time?” + </p> + <p> + “The devotion of Decius? Capital. Let me see!” said Norman, taking up a + paper scribbled in pencil, with Latin verses. “Oh, you have taken up quite + a different line from mine. I began with Mount Vesuvius spouting lava like + anything.” + </p> + <p> + “But Mount Vesuvius didn’t spout till it overthrew Pompeii.” + </p> + <p> + “Murder!” cried Norman, “I forgot! It’s lucky you put me in mind. I must + make a fresh beginning. There go my six best lines! However, it was an + uncanny place, fit for hobgoblins, and shades, and funny customers, which + will do as well for my purpose. Ha! that’s grand about its being so much + better than the vana gloria triumphalis—only take care of the + scanning there—” + </p> + <p> + “If it was but English. Something like this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For what is equal to the fame + Of forgetting self in the aim? +</pre> + <p> + That’s not right, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, Norman, what are you about?” cried Flora. “Do you mean to go to + Cocksmoor to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” cried Ethel, flying into vehement activity; “only I’ve lost my + blue-edged handkerchief—Flora, have you seen it?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but here is your red scarf.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, there is a good Flora. And oh! I finished a frock all but two + stitches. Where is it gone? Go on, all of you, I’ll overtake you: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Purer than breath of earthly fame, + Is losing self in a glorious aim. +</pre> + <p> + “Is that better, Norman?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll drive us out of patience,” said Flora, tying the handkerchief + round Ethel’s throat, and pulling out the fingers of her gloves, which, of + course, were inside out; “are you ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my frock! my frock! There ‘tis—three stitches—go on, and + I’ll come,” said Ethel, seizing a needle, and sewing vehemently at a + little pink frock. “Go on, Miss Winter goes slowly up the hill, and I’ll + overtake you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Norman, then; it is the only way to make her come at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall wait for her,” said Norman. “Go on, Flora, we shall catch you up + in no time;” and, as Flora went, he continued, “Never mind your aims and + fames and trumpery English rhymes. Your verses will be much the best, + Ethel; I only went on a little about Mount Vesuvius and the landscape, as + Alan described it the other day, and Decius taking a last look, knowing he + was to die. I made him beg his horse’s pardon, and say how they will both + be remembered, and their self-devotion would inspire Romans to all + posterity, and shout with a noble voice!” said Norman, repeating some of + his lines, correcting them as he proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes; but oh, dear, I’ve done! Come along,” said Ethel, crumpling her + work into a bundle, and snatching up her gloves; then, as they ran + downstairs, and emerged into the street, “It is a famous subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have made a capital beginning. If you won’t break down + somewhere, as you always do, with some frightful false quantity, that you + would get an imposition for, if you were a boy. I wish you were. I should + like to see old Hoxton’s face, if you were to show him up some of these + verses.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what, Norman, if I was you, I would not make Decius flatter + himself with the fame he was to get—it is too like the stuff every + one talks in stupid books. I want him to say—Rome—my country—the + eagles—must win, if they do—never mind what becomes of me.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should he not like to get the credit of it, as he did? Fame and + glory—they are the spirit of life, the reward of such a death.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no,” said Ethel. “Fame is coarse and vulgar—blinder than + ever they draw Love or Fortune—she is only a personified newspaper, + trumpeting out all that is extraordinary, without minding whether it is + good or bad. She misses the delicate and lovely—I wished they would + give us a theme to write about her. I should like to abuse her well.” + </p> + <p> + “It would make a very good theme, in a new line,” said Norman; “but I + don’t give into it, altogether. It is the hope and the thought of fame, + that has made men great, from first to last. It is in every one that is + not good for nothing, and always will be! The moving spirit of man’s + greatness!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not sure,” said Ethel; “I think looking for fame is like wanting a + reward at once. I had rather people forgot themselves. Do you think Arnold + von Winkelried thought about fame when he threw himself on the spears?” + </p> + <p> + “He got it,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he got it for the good of other people, not to please himself. Fame + does those that admire it good, not those that win it.” + </p> + <p> + “But!” said Norman, and both were silent for some short interval, as they + left the last buildings of the town, and began to mount a steep hill. + Presently Norman slackened his pace, and driving his stick vehemently + against a stone, exclaimed, “It is no use talking, Ethel, it is all a + fight and a race. One is always to try to be foremost. That’s the spirit + of the thing—that’s what the great, from first to last, have + struggled, and fought, and lived, and died for.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it is a battle, I know it is a race. The Bible says so,” replied + Ethel; “but is not there the difference, that here all may win—not + only one? One may do one’s best, not care whether one is first or last. + That’s what our reading to-day said.” + </p> + <p> + “That was against trumpery vanity—false elevation—not what one + has earned for oneself, but getting into other people’s places that one + never deserved. That every one despises!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! That they do. I say, Norman, didn’t you mean Harvey Anderson?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering, Norman exclaimed, “It is pretension that is hateful—true + excelling is what one’s life is for. No, no, I’ll never be beat, Ethel—I + never have been beat by any one, except by you, when you take pains,” he + added, looking exultingly at his sister, “and I never will be.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Norman!” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, of course, while I have senses. I would not be like Richard for + all the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no, poor Richard!” + </p> + <p> + “He is an excellent fellow in everything else,” said Norman; “I could + sometimes wish I was more like him—but how he can be so amazingly + slow, I can’t imagine. That examination paper he broke down in—I + could have done it as easily as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “I did it all but one question,” said Ethel, “but so did he, you know, and + we can’t tell whether we should have it done well enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I must do something respectable when first I go to Oxford, if I + don’t wish to be known as the man whose brother was plucked,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel; “if papa will but let you try for the Randall + scholarship next year, but he says it is not good to go to Oxford so + young.” + </p> + <p> + “And I believe I had better not be there with Richard,” added Norman. “I + don’t like coming into contrast with him, and I don’t think he can like + it, poor fellow, and it isn’t his fault. I had rather stay another year + here, get one of the open scholarships, and leave the Stoneborough ones + for those who can do no better.” + </p> + <p> + In justice to Norman, we must observe that this was by no means said as a + boast. He would scarcely have thus spoken to any one but Etheldred, to + whom, as well as to himself, it seemed mere matter-of-fact. The others had + in the meantime halted at the top of the hill, and were looking back at + the town—the great old Minster, raising its twin towers and long + roof, close to the river, where rich green meadows spread over the valley, + and the town rising irregularly on the slope above, plentifully + interspersed with trees and gardens, and one green space on the banks of + the river, speckled over with a flock of little black dots in rapid + motion. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are!” exclaimed Flora. “I told them it was of no use to wait + when you and Norman had begun a dissertation.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Ernescliffe, I should like you to say,” cried Ethel, “which do + you think is the best, the name of it, or the thing?” Her eloquence always + broke down with any auditor but her brother, or, perhaps, Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel!” said Norman, “how is any one to understand you? The argument is + this: Ethel wants people to do great deeds, and be utterly careless of the + fame of them; I say, that love of glory is a mighty spring.” + </p> + <p> + “A mighty one!” said Alan: “but I think, as far as I understand the + question, that Ethel has the best of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mean that people should not serve the cause first of all,” said + Norman, “but let them have their right place and due honour.” + </p> + <p> + “They had better make up their minds to do without it,” said Alan. + “Remember— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘The world knows nothing of its greatest men.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Then it is a great shame,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “But do you think it right,” said Ethel, “to care for distinction? It is a + great thing to earn it, but I don’t think one should care for the outer + glory.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it is a great temptation,” said Alan. “The being over-elated or + over-depressed by success or failure in the eyes of the world, + independently of the exertion we have used.” + </p> + <p> + “You call it a temptation?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly so.” + </p> + <p> + “But one can’t live or get on without it,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + There they were cut short. There was a plantation to be crossed, with a + gate that would not open, and that seemed an effectual barrier against + both Miss Winter and the donkey, until by persuasive eloquence and great + gallantry, Mr. Ernescliffe performed the wonderful feat of getting the + former over the tall fence, while Norman conducted the donkey a long way + round, undertaking to meet them at the other side of the plantation. + </p> + <p> + The talk became desultory, as they proceeded for at least a mile along a + cart-track through soft-tufted grass and heath and young fir-trees. It + ended in a broad open moor, stony; and full of damp boggy hollows, forlorn + and desolate under the autumn sky. Here they met Norman again, and walked + on along a very rough and dirty road, the ground growing more decidedly + into hills and valleys as they advanced, till they found themselves before + a small, but very steep hillock, one side of which was cut away into a + slate quarry. Round this stood a colony of roughly-built huts, of mud, + turf, or large blocks of the slate. Many workmen were engaged in splitting + up the slates, or loading wagons with them, rude wild-looking men, at the + sight of whom the ladies shrank up to their protectors, but who seemed too + busy even to spare time for staring at them. + </p> + <p> + They were directed to John Taylor’s house, a low mud cottage, very + wretched looking, and apparently so smoky that Mr. Ernescliffe and Norman + were glad to remain outside and survey the quarry, while the ladies + entered. + </p> + <p> + Inside they found more cleanliness and neatness than they had expected, + but there was a sad appearance of poverty, insufficient furniture, and the + cups and broken tea-pot on the table, holding nothing but toast and water, + as a substitute for their proper contents. The poor woman was sitting by + the fire with one twin on her lap, and the other on a chair by her side, + and a larger child was in the corner by the fire, looking heavy and ill, + while others of different ages lounged about listlessly. She was not + untidy, but very pale, and she spoke in a meek, subdued way, as if the + ills of life were so heavy on her that she had no spirit even to complain. + She thanked them for their gifts but languidly, and did not visibly + brighten when told that her husband was better. + </p> + <p> + Flora asked when the babes would be christened. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t hardly tell, Miss—‘tis so far to go.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose none of the children can go to school? I don’t know their faces + there,” said Flora, looking at a nice tall, smooth-haired girl of thirteen + or fourteen. + </p> + <p> + “No, Miss—‘tis so far. I am sorry they should not, for they always + was used to it where we lived before, and my oldest girl she can work very + nicely. I wish I could get a little place for her.” + </p> + <p> + “You would hardly know what to do without her,” said Miss Winter. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma’am; but she wants better food than I can give her, and it is a bad + wild place for a girl to grow up. It is not like what I was used to, + ma’am; I was always used to keep to my school and to my church—but + it is a bad place to live in here.” + </p> + <p> + No one could deny it, and the party left the cottage gravely. Alan and + Norman joined them, having heard a grievous history of the lawlessness of + the people from a foreman with whom they had met. There seemed to be no + visible means of improvement. The parish church was Stoneborough, and + there the living was very poor, the tithes having been appropriated to the + old Monastery, and since its dissolution having fallen into possession of + a Body that never did anything for the town. The incumbent, Mr. Ramsden, + had small means, and was not a high stamp of clergyman, seldom exerting + himself, and leaving most of his parish work to the two under masters of + the school, Mr. Wilmot and Mr. Harrison, who did all they had time and + strength for, and more too, within the town itself. There was no hope for + Cocksmoor! + </p> + <p> + “There would be a worthy ambition!” said Etheldred, as they turned their + steps homeward. “Let us propose that aim to ourselves, to build a church + on Cocksmoor!” + </p> + <p> + “How many years do you give us to do it in?” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Few or many, I don’t care. I’ll never leave off thinking about it till it + is done.” + </p> + <p> + “It need not be long,” said Flora, “if one could get up a subscription.” + </p> + <p> + “A penny subscription?” said Norman. “I’d rather have it my own doing.” + </p> + <p> + “You agree then,” said Ethel; “do you, Mr. Ernescliffe?” + </p> + <p> + “I may safely do so,” he answered, smiling. Miss Winter looked at + Etheldred reprovingly, and she shrank into herself, drew apart, and + indulged in a reverie. She had heard in books of girls writing poetry, + romance, history—gaining fifties and hundreds. Could not some of the + myriads of fancies floating in her mind thus be made available? She would + compose, publish, earn money—some day call papa, show him her hoard, + beg him to take it, and, never owning whence it came, raise the building. + Spire and chancel, pinnacle and buttress, rose before her eyes, and she + and Norman were standing in the porch with an orderly, religious + population, blessing the unknown benefactor, who had caused the news of + salvation to be heard among them. + </p> + <p> + They were almost at home, when the sight of a crowd in the main street + checked them. Norman and Mr. Ernescliffe went forward to discover the + cause, and spoke to some one on the outskirts—then Mr. Ernescliffe + hurried back to the ladies. + </p> + <p> + “There’s been an accident,” he said hastily—“you had better go down + the lane and in by the garden.” + </p> + <p> + He was gone in an instant, and they obeyed in silence. Whence came Ethel’s + certainty that the accident concerned themselves? In an agony of + apprehension, though without one outward sign of it, she walked home. They + were in the garden—all was apparently as usual, but no one was in + sight. Ethel had been first, but she held back, and let Miss Winter go + forward into the house. The front door was open—servants were + standing about in confusion, and one of the maids, looking dreadfully + frightened, gave a cry, “Oh! Miss—Miss—have you heard?” + </p> + <p> + “No—what? What has happened? Not Mrs. May—” exclaimed Miss + Winter. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ma’am! it is all of them. The carriage is overturned, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Who’s hurt? Mamma! papa! Oh, tell me!” cried Flora. + </p> + <p> + “There’s nurse,” and Ethel flew up to her. “What is it? Oh, nurse!” + </p> + <p> + “My poor, poor children,” said old nurse, passionately kissing Ethel. + Harry and Mary were on the stairs behind her, clinging together. + </p> + <p> + A stranger looked into the house, followed by Adams, the stableman. “They + are going to bring Miss May in,” some one said. + </p> + <p> + Ethel could bear it no longer. As if she could escape, she fled upstairs + into her room, and, falling on her knees, hid her face on her bed. + </p> + <p> + There were heavy steps in the house, then a sound of hasty feet coming up + to her. Norman dashed into the room, and threw himself on a chair. He was + ghastly pale, and shuddered all over. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Norman, Norman, speak! What is it?” He groaned, but could not speak; + he rested his head against her, and gasped. She was terribly frightened. + “I’ll call—” and she would have gone, but he held her. “No—no—they + can’t!” He was prevented from saying more, by chattering teeth and deadly + faintness. She tried to support him, but could only guide him as he sank, + till he lay at full length on the floor, where she put a pillow under his + head, and gave him some water. “Is it—oh, tell me! Are they much + hurt? Oh, try to say!” + </p> + <p> + “They say Margaret is alive,” said Norman, in gasps; “but—And papa—he + stood up—sat—walked—was better-” + </p> + <p> + “Is he hurt—much hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “His arm—” and the tremor and fainting stopped him again. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma?” whispered Ethel; but Norman only pressed his face into the + pillow. + </p> + <p> + She was so bewildered as to be more alive to the present distress of his + condition than to the vague horrors downstairs. Some minutes passed in + silence, Norman lying still, excepting a nervous trembling that agitated + his whole frame. Again was heard the strange tread, doors opening and + shutting, and suppressed voices, and he turned his face upwards, and + listened with his hand pressed to his forehead, as if to keep himself + still enough to listen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what is the matter? What is it?” cried Ethel, startled and recalled + to the sense of what was passing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Norman!” Then springing up, with a sudden thought, “Mr. Ward! Oh! is + he there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norman, in a low hopeless tone, “he was at the place. He said + it—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + Again Norman’s face was out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma?” Ethel’s understanding perceived, but her mind refused to grasp + the extent of the calamity. There was no answer, save a convulsive + squeezing of her hand. + </p> + <p> + Fresh sounds below recalled her to speech and action. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she? What are they doing for her? What—” + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing to be done. She—when they lifted her up, she was—” + </p> + <p> + “Dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Dead.” + </p> + <p> + The boy lay with his face hidden, the girl sat by him on the floor, too + much crushed for even the sensations belonging to grief, neither moving + nor looking. After an interval Norman spoke again, “The carriage turned + right over—her head struck on the kerb stone—” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see?” said Ethel presently. + </p> + <p> + “I saw them lift her up.” He spoke at intervals, as he could get breath + and bear to utter the words. “And papa—he was stunned—but soon + he sat up, said he would go to her—he looked at her—felt her + pulse, and then—sank down over her!” + </p> + <p> + “And did you say—I can’t remember—was he hurt?” + </p> + <p> + The shuddering came again, “His arm—all twisted—broken,” and + his voice sank into a faint whisper; Ethel was obliged to sprinkle him + again with water. “But he won’t die?” said she, in a tone calm from its + bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, no, no—” + </p> + <p> + “And Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “They were bringing her home. I’ll go and see. Oh! what’s the meaning of + this?” exclaimed he, scolding himself, as, sitting up, he was forced to + rest his head on his shaking hand. + </p> + <p> + “You are still faint, dear Norman; you had better lie still, and I’ll go + and see.” + </p> + <p> + “Faint—stuff—how horridly stupid!” but he was obliged to lay + his head down again; and Ethel, scarcely less trembling, crept carefully + towards the stairs, but a dread of what she might meet came over her, and + she turned towards the nursery. + </p> + <p> + The younger ones sat there in a frightened huddle. Mary was on a low chair + by the infant’s cot, Blanche in her lap, Tom and Harry leaning against + her, and Aubrey almost asleep. Mary held up her finger as Ethel entered, + and whispered, “Hush! don’t wake baby for anything!” + </p> + <p> + The first true pang of grief shot through Ethel like a dart, stabbing and + taking away her breath, “Where are they?” she said; “how is papa? who is + with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ward and Alan Ernescliffe,” said Harry. “Nurse came up just now, and + said they were setting his arm.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “On the bed in his dressing-room,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Has he come to himself—is he better?” + </p> + <p> + They did not seem to know, and Ethel asked where to find Flora. “With + Margaret,” she was told, and she was thinking whether she could venture to + seek her, when she herself came fast up the stairs. Ethel and Harry both + darted out. “Don’t stop me,” said Flora—“they want some + handkerchiefs.” + </p> + <p> + “What, is not she in her own room?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Harry, “in mamma’s;” and then his face quivered all over, and + he turned away. Ethel ran after her sister, and pulling out drawers + without knowing what she sought, begged to hear how papa and Margaret + were. + </p> + <p> + “We can’t judge of Margaret—she has moved, and made a little moaning—there + are no limbs broken, but we are afraid for her head. Oh! if papa could but—” + </p> + <p> + “And papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ward is with him now—his arm is terribly hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “But oh! Flora—one moment—is he sensible?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly; he does not take any notice—but don’t keep me.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I do anything?” following her to the head of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “No; I don’t see what you can do. Miss Winter and I are with Margaret; + there’s nothing to do for her.” + </p> + <p> + It was a relief. Etheldred shrank from what she might have to behold, and + Flora hastened down, too busy and too useful to have time to think. Harry + had gone back to his refuge in the nursery, and Ethel returned to Norman. + There they remained for a long time, both unwilling to speak or stir, or + even to observe to each other on the noises that came in to them, as their + door was left ajar, though in those sounds they were so absorbed, that + they did not notice the cold of a frosty October evening, or the darkness + that closed in on them. + </p> + <p> + They heard the poor babe crying, one of the children going down to call + nurse, and nurse coming up; then Harry, at the door of the room where the + boys slept, calling Norman in a low voice. Norman, now nearly recovered, + went and brought him into his sister’s room, and his tidings were, that + their father’s arm had been broken in two places, and the elbow + frightfully injured, having been crushed and twisted by the wheel. He was + also a good deal bruised, and though Mr. Ward trusted there was no + positive harm to the head, he was in an unconscious state, from which the + severe pain of the operation had only roused him, so far as to evince a + few signs of suffering. Margaret was still insensible. + </p> + <p> + The piteous sound of the baby’s wailing almost broke their hearts. Norman + walked about the room in the dark, and said he should go down, he could + not bear it; but he could not make up his mind to go, and after about a + quarter of an hour, to their great relief, it ceased. + </p> + <p> + Next Mary opened the door, saying, “Norman, here’s Mr. Wilmot come to ask + if he can do anything—Miss Winter sent word that you had better go + to him.” + </p> + <p> + “How is baby?” asked Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Nurse has fed her, and is putting her to bed; she is quiet now,” said + Mary; “will you go down, Norman?” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “In the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + Norman paused to ask what he was to say. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Mary, “nobody can do anything. Make haste. Don’t you want + a candle?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, I had rather be in the dark. Come up as soon as you have + seen him,” said Etheldred. + </p> + <p> + Norman went slowly down, with failing knees, hardly able to conquer the + shudder that came over him, as he passed those rooms. There were voices in + the drawing-room, and he found a sort of council there, Alan Ernescliffe, + the surgeon, and Mr. Wilmot. They turned as he came in, and Mr. Wilmot + held out his hand with a look of affection and kindness that went to his + heart, making room for him on the sofa, while going on with what he was + saying. “Then you think it would be better for me not to sit up with him.” + </p> + <p> + “I should decidedly say so,” replied Mr. Ward. “He has recognised Mr. + Ernescliffe, and any change might excite him, and lead him to ask + questions. The moment of his full consciousness is especially to be + dreaded.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not call him insensible?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but he seems stunned—stupified by the shock, and by pain. He + spoke to Miss Flora when she brought him some tea.” + </p> + <p> + “And admirably she managed,” said Alan Ernescliffe. “I was much afraid of + some answer that would rouse him, but she kept her self-possession + beautifully, and seemed to compose him in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “She is valuable indeed—so much judgment and activity,” said Mr. + Ward. “I don’t know what we should have done without her. But we ought to + have Mr. Richard—has no one sent to him?” + </p> + <p> + Alan Ernescliffe and Norman looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Is he at Oxford, or at his tutor’s?” asked Mr. Wilmot. + </p> + <p> + “At Oxford; he was to be there to-day, was he not, Norman?” + </p> + <p> + “What o’clock is it? Is the post gone—seven—no; it is all + safe,” said Mr. Ward. + </p> + <p> + Poor Norman! he knew he was the one who ought to write, but his icy + trembling hand seemed to shake more helplessly than ever, and a piteous + glance fell upon Mr. Wilmot. + </p> + <p> + “The best plan would be,” said Mr. Wilmot, “for me to go to him at once + and bring him home. If I go by the mail-train, I shall get to him sooner + than a letter could.” + </p> + <p> + “And it will be better for him,” said Mr. Ward. “He will feel it + dreadfully, poor boy. But we shall all do better when we have him. You can + get back to-morrow evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Sunday,” said Mr. Wilmot, “I believe there is a train at four.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! thank you, sir,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Since that is settled, perhaps I had better go up to the doctor,” said + Alan; “I don’t like leaving Flora alone with him,” and he was gone. + </p> + <p> + “How fortunate that that youth is here,” said Mr. Wilmot—“he seems + to be quite taking Richard’s place.” + </p> + <p> + “And to feel it as much,” said Mr. Ward. “He has been invaluable with his + sailor’s resources and handiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what shall I tell poor Richard?” asked Mr. Wilmot. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him there is no reason his father should not do very well, if we can + keep him from agitation—but there’s the point. He is of so excitable + a constitution, that his faculties being so far confused is the best + thing, perhaps, that could be. Mr. Ernescliffe manages him very well—used + to illness on that African coast, and the doctor is very fond of him. As + to Miss May, one can’t tell what to say about her yet—there’s no + fracture, at least—it must be a work of time to judge.” + </p> + <p> + Flora at that moment half-opened the door, and called Mr. Ward, stopping + for a moment to say it was for nothing of any consequence. Mr. Wilmot and + Norman were left together. Norman put his hands over his face and groaned—his + master looked at him with kind anxiety, but did not feel as if it were yet + time to speak of consolation. + </p> + <p> + “God bless and support you, and turn this to your good, my dear boy,” said + he affectionately, as he pressed his hand; “I hope to bring your brother + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” was all Norman could say; and as Mr. Wilmot went out by + the front door, he slowly went up again, and, lingering on the + landing-place, was met by Mr. Ward, who told him to his relief—for + the mere thinking of it renewed the faint sensation—that he had + better not go to his father’s room. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to be done but to return to Ethel and Harry, and tell + them all; with some humiliation at being helpless, where Flora was doing + so much, and to leave their father to be watched by a stranger. If he had + been wanted, Norman might have made the effort, but being told that he + would be worse than useless, there was nothing for him but to give way. + </p> + <p> + They sat together in Ethel’s room till somewhere between eight and nine + o’clock, when good old nurse, having put her younger ones to bed, came in + search of them. “Dear, dear! poor darlings,” said she, as she found them + sitting in the dark; she felt their cold hands, and made them all come + into the nursery, where Mary was already, and, fondling them, one by one, + as they passively obeyed her, she set them down on their little old stools + round the fire, took away the high fender, and gave them each a cup of + tea. Harry and Mary ate enough to satisfy her, from a weary craving + feeling, and for want of employment; Norman sat with his elbow on his + knee, and a very aching head resting on his hand, glad of drink, but + unable to eat; Ethel could be persuaded to do neither, till she found old + nurse would let her have no peace. + </p> + <p> + The nurse sent them all to bed, taking the two girls to their own room, + undressing them, and never leaving them until Mary was in a fair way of + crying herself to sleep—for saying her prayers had brought the + tears; while Ethel lay so wide awake that it was of no use to wait for + her, and then she went to the boys, tucked them each in, as when they were + little children, and saying, “Bless your dear hearts!” bestowed on each of + them a kiss which came gratefully to Norman’s burning brow, and which even + Harry’s boyish manliness could not resist. + </p> + <p> + Flora was in Margaret’s room, too useful to be spared. + </p> + <p> + So ended that dreadful Saturday. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They may not mar the deep repose + Of that immortal flower: + Though only broken hearts are found + To watch her cradle by, + No blight is on her slumbers found, + No touch of harmful eye. + LYRA INNOCENTIUM. +</pre> + <p> + Such a strange sad Sunday! No going to church, but all the poor children + moving in awe and oppression about the house, speaking under their breath, + as they gathered in the drawing-room. Into the study they might not go, + and when Blanche would have asked why, Tom pressed her hand and shuddered. + </p> + <p> + Etheldred was allowed to come and look at Margaret, and even to sit in the + room for a little while, to take the place of Miss Winter; but she was not + sensible of sufficient usefulness to relieve the burden of fear and + bewilderment in the presence of that still, pale form; and, what was + almost worse, the sight of the familiar objects, the chair by the fire, + the sofa, the books, the work-basket, the letter-case, the dressing + things, all these were too oppressive. She sat crouched up, with her face + hidden in her hands, and the instant she was released, hastened back to + Norman. She was to tell him that he might go into the room, but he did not + move, and Mary alone went in and out with messages. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May was not to be visited, for he was in the same half-conscious + state, apparently sensible only of bodily suffering, though he answered + when addressed, and no one was trusted to speak to him but Flora and + Ernescliffe. + </p> + <p> + The rest wore through the day as best they might. Harry slept a good deal, + Ethel read to herself, and tried to get Norman to look at passages which + she liked, Mary kept the little ones from being troublesome, and at last + took them to peep behind the school-room blinds for Richard’s coming. + </p> + <p> + There was a simultaneous shout when, at four o’clock, they caught sight of + him, and though, at Ethel’s exclamation of wonder, Mary and Tom hung their + heads at having forgotten themselves, the association of gladness in + seeing Richard was refreshing; the sense of being desolate and forsaken + was relieved, and they knew that now they had one to rely on and to + comfort them. + </p> + <p> + Harry hastened to open the front door, and Richard, with his small trim + figure, and fresh, fair young face, flushed, though not otherwise + agitated, was among them, almost devoured by the younger ones, and dealing + out quiet caresses to them, as he caught from the words and looks of the + others that at least his father and sister were no worse. Mr. Wilmot had + come with him, but only stayed to hear the tidings. + </p> + <p> + “Can I see papa?” were Richard’s first audible words—all the rest + had been almost dumb show. + </p> + <p> + Ethel thought not, but took him to Margaret’s room, where he stood for + many minutes without speaking; then whispered to Flora that he must go to + the others, she should call him if—and went down, followed by Ethel. + </p> + <p> + Tom and Blanche had fallen into teasing tricks, a sort of melancholy play + to relieve the tedium. They grew cross. Norman was roused to reprove + sharply, and Blanche was beginning to cry. But Richard’s entrance set all + at peace—he sat down among them, and, with soft voice and arm round + Blanche, as she leaned against him, made her good in a moment; and she + listened while he talked over with Norman and Ethel all they could bear to + speak of. + </p> + <p> + Late in the day Flora came into her father’s room, and stood gazing at + him, as he lay with eyes closed, breathing heavily, and his brows + contracted by pain. She watched him with piteous looks, as if imploring + him to return to his children. Poor girl, to-day’s quiet, after the last + evening’s bustle, was hard to bear. She had then been distracted from + thought by the necessity of exertion, but it now repaid itself, and she + knew not how to submit to do nothing but wait and watch. + </p> + <p> + “No change?” enquired Alan Ernescliffe; looking kindly in her face. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied she in a low, mournful tone. “She only once said, thank + you.” + </p> + <p> + A voice which she did not expect, asked inquiringly, “Margaret?” and her + heart beat as if it would take away her breath, as she saw her father’s + eyes intently fixed on her. “Did you speak of her?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear papa,” said Flora, not losing presence of mind, though in + extreme fear of what the next question might be. “She is quiet and + comfortable, so don’t be uneasy, pray.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me hear,” he said, and his whole voice and air showed him to be + entirely roused. “There is injury? What is it—” + </p> + <p> + He continued his inquiries till Flora was obliged fully to explain her + sister’s condition, and then he dismayed her by saying he would get up and + go to see her. Much distressed, she begged him not to think of it, and + appealed to Alan, who added his entreaties that he would at least wait for + Mr. Ward; but the doctor would not relinquish his purpose, and sent her to + give notice that he was coming. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ernescliffe followed her out of the room, and tried to console her, as + she looked at him in despair. + </p> + <p> + “You see he is quite himself, quite collected,” he said; “you heard now + clear and coherent his questions were.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t it be helped? Do try to stop him till I can send to Mr. Ward.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try, but I think he is in a state to judge for himself. I do, upon + my word; and I believe trying to prevent him would be more likely to do + him harm than letting him satisfy himself. I really think you need not be + alarmed.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know,” said Flora, coming nearer, and almost gasping as she + whispered and signed towards the door, “she is there—it is mamma’s + room, that will tell all.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he knows,” said Alan. “It was that which made him faint after + the accident, for he had his perceptions fully at first. I have suspected + all day that he was more himself than he seemed, but I think he could not + bear to awaken his mind to understand it, and that he was afraid to hear + about her—your sister, so that our mention of her was a great + relief, and did him good. I am convinced he knows the rest. Only go on, be + calm, as you have been, and we shall do very well.” + </p> + <p> + Flora went to prepare. Ethel eagerly undertook to send to Mr. Ward, and + hastened from the room, as if in a sort of terror, shrinking perhaps from + what might lead to an outburst of grief. She longed to have seen her + father, but was frightened at the chance of meeting him. When she had sent + her message, and told her brothers what was passing, she went and lingered + on the stairs and in the passage for tidings. After what seemed a long + time, Flora came out, and hastened to the nursery, giving her intelligence + on the way. + </p> + <p> + “Better than could be hoped, he walked alone into the room, and was quite + calm and composed. Oh! if this will not hurt him, if the seeing baby was + but over!” + </p> + <p> + “Does he want her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he would have come up here himself, but I would not let him. Nurse, + do you hear? Papa wants baby; let me have her.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, Miss Flora, you can’t hold her while you are all of a tremble! + And he has been to Miss Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, nurse, and he was only rather stiff and lame.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Margaret seem to know him?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “She just answered in that dreamy way when he spoke to her. He says he + thinks it is as Mr. Ward believes, and that she will soon come to herself. + He is quite able to consider—” + </p> + <p> + “And he knows all?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure he does. He desired to see baby, and he wants you, nurse. Only + mind you command yourself—don’t say a word you can help—do + nothing to agitate him.” + </p> + <p> + Nurse promised, but the tears came so fast, and sobs with them, as she + approached her master’s room, that Flora saw no composure could be + expected from her; and taking the infant from her, carried it in, leaving + the door open for her to follow when wanted. Ethel stood by listening. + There was silence at first, then some sounds from the baby, and her + father’s voice soothing it, in his wonted caressing phrases and tones, so + familiar that they seemed to break the spell, drive away her vague + terrors, and restore her father. Her heart bounded, and a sudden impulse + carried her to the bedside, at once forgetting all dread of seeing him, + and chance of doing him harm. He lay, holding the babe close to him, and + his face was not altered, so that there was nothing in the sight to + impress her with the need of caution, and, to the consternation of the + anxious Flora, she exclaimed, abruptly and vehemently, “Papa! should not + she be christened?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May looked up at Ethel, then at the infant; “Yes,” he said, “at once.” + Then added feebly and languidly, “Some one must see to it.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, while Flora looked reproachfully at her sister, and + Ethel became conscious of her imprudence, but in a few moments Dr. May + spoke again, first to the baby, and then asking, “Is Richard here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Send him up presently. Where’s nurse?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel retreated, much alarmed at her rash measure, and when she related it + she saw that Richard and Mr. Ernescliffe both thought it had been a great + hazard. + </p> + <p> + “Papa wants you,” was a welcome sound to the ears of Richard, and brought + a pink glow into his face. He was never one who readily showed his + feelings, and there was no danger of his failing in self-command, though + grievously downcast, not only at the loss of the tender mother, who had + always stood between him and his father’s impatience, but by the dread + that he was too dull and insignificant to afford any help or comfort in + his father’s dire affliction. + </p> + <p> + Yet there was something in the gentle sad look that met him, and in the + low tone of the “How d’ye do, Ritchie?” that drove off a thought of not + being loved; and when Dr. May further added, “You’ll see about it all—I + am glad you are come,” he knew he was of use, and was encouraged and + cheered. That his father had full confidence and reliance in him, and that + his presence was a satisfaction and relief he could no longer doubt; and + this was a drop of balm beyond all his hopes; for loving and admiring his + father intensely, and with depressed spirits and a low estimate of + himself, he had begun to fancy himself incapable of being anything but a + vexation and burden. + </p> + <p> + He sat with his father nearly all the evening, and was to remain with him + at night. The rest were comforted by the assurance that Dr. May was still + calm, and did not seem to have been injured by what had passed. Indeed, it + seemed as if the violence and suddenness of the shock, together with his + state of suffering, had deadened his sensations; for there was far less + agitation about him than could have been thought possible in a man of such + strong, warm affections and sensitive temperament. + </p> + <p> + Ethel and Norman went up arm-in-arm at bedtime. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to ask if I may wish papa good-night,” said Ethel. “Shall I + say anything about your coming?” + </p> + <p> + Norman hesitated, but his cheeks blanched; he shuddered, shook his head + without speaking, ran up after Harry, and waved her back when she would + have followed. + </p> + <p> + Richard told her that she might come in, and, as she slowly advanced, she + thought she had never seen anything so ineffably mournful as the + affectionate look on her father’s face. She held his hand and ventured—for + it was with difficulty she spoke—to hope he was not in pain. + </p> + <p> + “Better than it was, thank you, my dear,” he said, in a soft weak tone: + then, as she bent down to kiss his brow; “you must take care of the little + ones.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa,” she could hardly answer, and a large drop gathered slowly in + each eye, long in coming, as if the heart ached too much for them to flow + freely. + </p> + <p> + “Are they all well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “And good?” He held her hand, as if lengthening the interview. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very good all day.” + </p> + <p> + A long deep sigh. Ethel’s two tears stood on her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “My love to them all. I hope I shall see them to-morrow. God bless you, my + dear, good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel went upstairs, saddened and yet soothed. The calm silent sorrow, too + deep for outward tokens, was so unlike her father’s usually demonstrative + habits, as to impress her all the more, yet those two tears were followed + by no more; there was much strangeness and confusion in her mind in the + newness of grief. + </p> + <p> + She found poor Flora, spent with exertion, under the reaction of all she + had undergone, lying on her bed, sobbing as if her heart would break, + calling in gasps of irrepressible agony on “mamma! mamma!” yet with her + face pressed down on the pillow that she might not be heard. Ethel, + terrified and distressed, timidly implored her to be comforted, but it + seemed as if she were not even heard; she would have fetched some one, but + whom? Alas! alas! it brought back the sense that no mother would ever + soothe them—Margaret, papa, both so ill, nurse engaged with + Margaret! Ethel stood helpless and despairing, and Flora sobbed on, so + that Mary awakened to burst out in a loud frightened fit of crying; but in + a few moments a step was at the door, a knock, and Richard asked, “Is + anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + He was in the room in a moment, caressing and saying affectionate things + with gentleness and fondling care, like his mother, and which recalled the + days when he had been proud to be left for a little while the small nurse + and guardian of the lesser ones. Mary was hushed in a moment, and Flora’s + exhausted weeping was gradually soothed, when she was able to recollect + that she was keeping him from her father; with kind good-nights, he left + Ethel to read to her till she could sleep. Long did Ethel read, after both + her sisters were slumbering soundly; she went on in a sort of dreamy + grief, almost devoid of pain, as if all this was too terrible to be true: + and she had imagined herself into a story, which would give place at dawn + to her ordinary life. + </p> + <p> + At last she went to bed, and slept till wakened by the return of Flora, + who had crept down in her dressing-gown to see how matters were going. + Margaret was in the same state, papa was asleep, after a restless + distressing night, with much pain and some fever; and whenever Richard had + begun to hope from his tranquillity, that he was falling asleep, he was + undeceived by hearing an almost unconsciously uttered sigh of “Maggie, my + Maggie!” and then the head turned wearily on the pillow, as if worn out + with the misery from which there was no escape. Towards morning the pain + had lessened, and, as he slept, he seemed much less feverish than they + could have ventured to expect. + </p> + <p> + Norman looked wan and wretched, and could taste no breakfast; indeed Harry + reported that he had been starting and talking in his sleep half the + night, and had proceeded to groaning and crying out till, when it could be + borne no longer, Harry waked him, and finished his night’s rest in peace. + </p> + <p> + The children were kept in the drawing-room that morning, and there were + strange steps in the house; but only Richard and Mr. Ernescliffe knew the + reason. Happily there had been witnesses enough of the overturn to spare + any reference to Dr. May—the violent start of the horses had been + seen, and Adams and Mr. Ernescliffe agreed, under their breath, that the + new black one was not fit to drive, while the whole town was so used to + Dr. May’s headlong driving, that every one was recollecting their own + predictions of accidents. There needed little to account for the disaster—the + only wonder was that it had not happened sooner. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” announced Harry, soon after they were released again, “I’ve been + in to papa. His door was open, and he heard me, and called me. He says he + should like any of us to come in and see him. Hadn’t you better go, + Norman?” + </p> + <p> + Norman started up, and walked hastily out of the room, but his hand shook + so, that he could hardly open the door; and Ethel, seeing how it was with + him, followed him quickly, as he dashed, at full speed, up the stairs. At + the top, however, he was forced to cling to the rail, gasping for breath, + while the moisture started on his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Norman,” she said, “there’s nothing to mind. He looks just as usual. + You would not know there was anything the matter.” But he rested his head + on his hand, and looked as if he could not stir. “I see it won’t do,” said + Ethel—“don’t try—you will be better by-and-by, and he has not + asked for you in particular.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t be beat by such stuff,” said Norman, stepping hastily forwards, + and opening the door suddenly. He got through the greeting pretty well, + there was no need for him to speak, he only gave his hand and looked away, + unable to bring himself to turn his eyes on his father, and afraid of + letting his own face be seen. Almost at the same moment, nurse came to say + something about Margaret, and he seized the opportunity of withdrawing his + hand, and hurrying away, in good time, for he was pale as death, and was + obliged to sit down on the head of the stairs, and lean his head against + Etheldred. + </p> + <p> + “What does make me so ridiculous?” he exclaimed faintly, but very + indignantly. + </p> + <p> + The first cure was the being forced to clear out of Mr. Ward’s way, which + he could not effect without being seen; and Ethel though she knew that he + would be annoyed, was not sorry to be obliged to remain, and tell what was + the matter with him. “Oh,” said Mr. Ward, turning and proceeding to the + dining-room, “I’ll set that to rights in a minute, if you will ask for a + tumbler of hot water Miss Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + And armed with the cordial he had prepared, Ethel hunted up her brother, + and persuaded him, after scolding her a little, to swallow it, and take a + turn in the garden; after which he made a more successful attempt at + visiting his father. + </p> + <p> + There was another room whither both Norman and Etheldred wished to go, + though they dared not hint at their desire. At last Richard came to them, + as they were wandering in the garden, and, with his usual stillness of + manner, shaded with additional seriousness, said, “Would you like to come + into the study?” + </p> + <p> + Etheldred put one hand into his, Norman took the other, and soon they + stood in that calm presence. Fair, cold, white, and intensely still—that + face brought home to them the full certainty that the warm brightening + look would never beam on them, the soft blue eyes never guide, check, and + watch them, the smile never approve or welcome them. To see her + unconscious of their presence was too strange and sad, and all were + silent, till, as they left the room, Ethel looked out at Blanche and + Aubrey in the garden. “They will never remember her! Oh! why should it + be?” + </p> + <p> + Richard would fain have moralised and comforted, but she felt as if she + knew it all before, and heard with languid attention. She had rather read + than talk, and he sat down to write letters. + </p> + <p> + There were no near relations to be sent for. Dr. May was an only son, and + his wife’s sister, Mrs. Arnott, was in New Zealand; her brother had long + been dead, and his widow, who lived in Edinburgh, was scarcely known to + the May family. Of friends there were many, fast bound by affection and + gratitude, and notes, inquiries, condolences, and offers of service came + in thickly, and gave much occupation to Flora, Richard, and Alan + Ernescliffe, in turn. No one from without could do anything for them—they + had all the help they wanted in Miss Winter and in Alan, who was + invaluable in sharing with Richard the care of the doctor, as well as in + giving him the benefit of his few additional years’ experience, and + relieving him of some of his tasks. He was indeed like one of themselves, + and a most valuable help and comforter. Mr. Wilmot gave them all the time + he could, and on this day saw the doctor, who seemed to find some solace + in his visit, though saying very little. + </p> + <p> + On this day the baby was to be baptized. The usual Stoneborough fashion + was to collect all the christenings for the month into one Sunday, except + those for such persons as thought themselves too refined to see their + children christened before the congregation, and who preferred an empty + church and a week-day. The little one had waited till she was nearly six + weeks old for “a Christening Sunday,” and since that had been missed, she + could not be kept unbaptized for another month; so, late in the day, she + was carried to church. + </p> + <p> + Richard had extremely gratified old nurse, by asking her to represent poor + Margaret; Mrs. Hoxton stood for the other godmother, and Alan Ernescliffe + was desired to consider himself absolutely her sponsor, not merely a + proxy. The younger children alone were to go with them: it was too far + off, and the way lay too much through the town for it to be thought proper + for the others to go. Ethel wished it very much, and thought it nonsense + to care whether people looked at her; and in spite of Miss Winter’s + seeming shocked at her proposing it, had a great mind to persist. She + would even have appealed to her papa, if Flora had not stopped her, + exclaiming, “Really, Ethel, I think there never was a person so entirely + without consideration as you are.” + </p> + <p> + Much abashed, Ethel humbly promised that if she might go into papa’s room, + she would not say one word about the christening, unless he should begin, + and, to her great satisfaction, he presently asked her to read the service + to him. Flora came to the doorway of Margaret’s room, and listened; when + she had finished, all were silent. + </p> + <p> + “How shall we, how can we virtuously bring up our motherless little + sister?” was the thought with each of the girls. The answers were, in one + mind, “I trust we shall do well by her, dear little thing. I see, on an + emergency, that I know how to act. I never thought I was capable of being + of so much use, thanks to dear, dear mamma’s training. I shall manage, I + am sure, and so they will all depend on me, and look up to me. How nice it + was to hear dear papa say what he did about the comfort of my being able + to look after Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + In the other, “Poor darling, it is saddest of all for her, because she + knows nothing, and will never remember her mamma! But if Margaret is but + better, she will take care of her, and oh how we ought to try—and I, + such a naughty wild thing—if I should hurt the dear little ones by + carelessness, or by my bad example! Oh! what shall I do, for want of some + one to keep me in order? If I should vex papa by any of my wrong ways!” + </p> + <p> + They heard the return of the others, and the sisters both sprang up, “May + we bring her to you?” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do, my dears.” + </p> + <p> + The sisters all came down together with the little one, and Flora put her + down within the arm her father stretched out for her. He gazed into the + baby face, which, in its expressionless placidity, almost recalled her + mother’s tranquil sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “Gertrude Margaret,” said Flora, and with a look that had more of + tenderness than grief, he murmured, “My Daisy blossom, my little Maggie.” + </p> + <p> + “Might we?” said Ethel, when Flora took her again, “might we take her to + her godmother to see if she would notice her?” + </p> + <p> + He looked as if he wished it; but said, “No, I think not, better not rouse + her,” and sighed heavily; then, as they stood round his bed, unwilling to + go, he added, “Girls, we must learn carefulness and thoughtfulness. We + have no one to take thought for us now.” + </p> + <p> + Flora pressed the babe in her arms, Ethel’s two reluctant tears stood on + her cheeks, Mary exclaimed, “I’ll try not to be naughty;” and Blanche + climbed up to kiss him, saying, “I will be always good papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Daisy—papa’s Daisy—your vows are made,” whispered Ethel, + gaining sole possession of the babe for a minute. “You have promised to be + good and holy. We have the keeping of you, mamma’s precious flower, her + pearl of truth! Oh, may God guard you to be an unstained jewel, till you + come back to her again—and a blooming flower, till you are gathered + into the wreath that never fades—my own sweet poor little motherless + Daisy!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Through lawless camp, through ocean wild, + Her prophet eye pursues her child; + Scans mournfully her poet’s strain, + Fears for her merchant, loss alike and gain.” + LYRA INNOCENTIUM. +</pre> + <p> + Dr. May took the management of himself into his own hands, and paid so + little attention to Mr. Ward’s recommendations that his sons and daughters + were in continual dread of his choosing to do something that might cause + injurious agitation. + </p> + <p> + However, he did not go further than Margaret’s bedroom where he sat hour + after hour his eyes fixed upon her, as she continued in a state bordering + on insensibility. He took little notice of anything else, and hardly + spoke. There were heavy sighs now and then, but Richard and Flora, one or + other of whom were always watching him, could hardly tell whether to + ascribe them to the oppression of sorrow or of suffering. Their great fear + was of his insisting on seeing his wife’s face, and it was a great relief + that he never alluded to her, except once, to desire Richard to bring him + her ring. Richard silently obeyed, and, without a word, he placed it on + his little finger. Richard used to read the Psalms to him in the morning, + before he was up, and Flora would bring little Daisy and lay her by his + side. + </p> + <p> + To the last moment they dreaded his choosing to attend the funeral, and + Flora had decided on remaining at home, though trembling at the thought of + what there might be to go through. They tried to let him hear nothing + about it, but he seemed to know everything; and when Flora came into + Margaret’s room without her bonnet, he raised his head, and said, “I + thought you were all going.” + </p> + <p> + “The others are—but may I not stay with you and her, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I had rather be alone, my dears. I will take care of her. I should wish + you all to be there.” + </p> + <p> + They decided that his wishes ought to be followed, and that the patients + must be entrusted to old nurse. Richard told Flora, who looked very pale, + that she would be glad of it afterwards, and she had his arm to lean upon. + </p> + <p> + The grave was in the cloister attached to the minster, a smooth green + square of turf, marked here and there with small flat lozenges of stone, + bearing the date and initials of those who lay there, and many of them + recording former generations of Mays, to whom their descent from the + headmaster had given a right of burial there. Dr. Hoxton, Mr. Wilmot, and + the surgeon, were the only friends whom Richard had asked to be with them, + but the minster was nearly full, for there was a very strong attachment + and respect for Dr. and Mrs. May throughout the neighbourhood, and every + one’s feelings were strongly excited. + </p> + <p> + “In the midst of life, we are in death—” There was a universal sound + as of a sort of sob, that Etheldred never disconnected from those words. + Yet hardly one tear was shed by the young things who stood as close as + they could round the grave. Harry and Mary did indeed lock their hands + together tightly, and the shoulders of the former shook as he stood, + bowing down his head, but the others were still and quiet, in part from + awe and bewilderment, but partly, too, from a sense that it was against + her whole nature that there should be clamorous mourning for her. The calm + still day seemed to tell them the same, the sun beaming softly on the gray + arches and fresh grass, the sky clear and blue, and the trees that showed + over the walls bright with autumn colouring, all suitable to the serenity + of a life unclouded to its last moment. Some of them felt as if it were + better to be there than in their saddened desolate home. + </p> + <p> + But home they must go, and, before going upstairs, as Flora and Etheldred + stood a moment or two with Norman, Ethel said in a tone of resolution, and + of some cheerfulness, “Well, we have to begin afresh.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Flora, “it is a great responsibility. I do trust we may be + enabled to do as we ought.” + </p> + <p> + “And now Margaret is getting better, she will be our stay,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I must go to her,” and Flora went upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could be as useful as Flora,” said Ethel; but I mean to try, and + if I can but keep out of mischief, it will be something. + </p> + <p> + “There is an object for all one does, in trying to be a comfort to papa.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s no use,” said Norman, listlessly. “We never can.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but, Norman, he won’t be always as he is now—I am sure he cares + for us enough to be pleased, if we do right and get on.” + </p> + <p> + “We used to be so happy!” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + Ethel hesitated a little, and presently answered, “I don’t think it can be + right to lament for our own sakes so much, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to do so,” said Norman, in the same dejected way. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose we ought not to feel it either.” Norman only shook his head. + “We ought to think of her gain. You can’t? Well, I am glad, for no more + can I. I can’t think of her liking for papa and baby and all of us to be + left to ourselves. But that’s not right of me, and of course it all comes + right where she is; so I always put that out of my head, and think what is + to come next in doing, and pleasing papa, and learning.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s grown horrid,” said Norman. “There’s no pleasure in getting on, + nor in anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you care for papa and all of us being glad, Norman?” As Norman + could not just then say that he did, he would not answer. + </p> + <p> + “I wish—” said Ethel, disappointed, but cheering up the next minute. + “I do believe it is having nothing to do. You will be better when you get + back to school on Monday.” + </p> + <p> + “That is worst of all!” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t like going among the boys again? But that must be done some + time or other. Or shall I get Richard to speak to Dr. Hoxton to let you + have another week’s leave?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, don’t be foolish. It can’t be helped.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry, but I think you will be better for it.” + </p> + <p> + She almost began to fancy herself unfeeling, when she found him so much + more depressed than she was herself, and unable to feel it a relief to + know that the time of rest and want of occupation was over. She thought it + light-minded, though she could not help it, to look forward to the daily + studies where she might lose her sad thoughts and be as if everything were + as usual. But suppose she should be to blame, where would now be the + gentle discipline? Poor Ethel’s feelings were not such as to deserve the + imputation of levity, when this thought came over her; but her buoyant + mind, always seeking for consolation, recurred to Margaret’s improvement, + and she fixed her hopes on her. + </p> + <p> + Margaret was more alive to surrounding objects, and, when roused, she knew + them all, answered clearly when addressed, had even, more than once, + spoken of her own accord, and shown solicitude at the sight of her + father’s bandaged, helpless arm, but he soon soothed this away. He was + more than ever watchful over her, and could scarcely be persuaded to leave + her for one moment, in his anxiety to be at hand to answer, when first she + should speak of her mother, a moment apprehended by all the rest, almost + as much for his sake as for hers. + </p> + <p> + So clear had her perceptions been, and so much more awake did she appear, + on this evening, that he expected the inquiry to come every moment, and + lingered in her room; till she asked the hour, and begged him to go to + bed. + </p> + <p> + As he bent over her, she looked up in his face, and said softly, “Dear + papa.” + </p> + <p> + There was that in her tone which showed she perceived the truth, and he + knelt by her side kissing her, but not daring to relax his restraint of + feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Dear papa,” she said again, “I hope I shall soon be better, and be some + comfort to you.” + </p> + <p> + “My best—my own—my comfort,” he murmured, all he could say + without giving way. + </p> + <p> + “Baby—is she well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank Heaven, she has not suffered at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard her this morning, I must see her to-morrow. But don’t stay, dear, + dear papa, it is late, and I am sure you are not at all well. Your arm—is + it very much hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing you need think about, my dear. I am much better than I + could have imagined possible.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have been nursing me all the time! Papa, you must let me take + care of you now. Do pray go to bed at once, and get up late. Nurse will + take good care of me. Good-night, dear papa.” + </p> + <p> + When Dr. May had left her, and tried to tell Richard how it had been, the + tears cut him short, and had their free course; but there was much of + thankfulness, for it might be looked on as the restoration of his + daughter; the worst was over, and the next day he was able to think of + other things, had more attention to spare for the rest, and when the + surgeon came, took some professional interest in the condition of his own + arm, inquired after his patients, and even talked of visiting them. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Margaret sent for her eldest brother, begging him to tell + her the whole, and it was heard as calmly and firmly as it was told. Her + bodily state lulled her mind; and besides it was not new; she had observed + much while her faculties were still too much benumbed for her to + understand all, or to express her feelings. Her thoughts seemed chiefly + occupied with her father. She made Richard explain to her the injury he + had suffered, and begged to know whether his constant attendance on her + could do him harm. She was much rejoiced when her brother assured her that + nothing could be better for him, and she began to say, with a smile, that + very likely her being hurt had been fortunate. She asked who had taken + care of him before Richard’s arrival, and was pleased to hear that it was + Mr. Ernescliffe. A visit from the little Gertrude Margaret was happily + accomplished, and, on the whole, the day was most satisfactory—she + herself declaring that she could not see that there was anything the + matter with her, except that she felt lazy, and did not seem able to move. + </p> + <p> + Thus the next Sunday morning dawned with more cheerfulness. Dr. May came + downstairs for the first time, in order to go to church with his whole + flock, except the two Margarets. He looked very wan and shattered, but + they clustered gladly round him, when he once more stood among them, + little Blanche securing his hand, and nodding triumphantly to Mr. + Ernescliffe, as much as to say, “Now I have him, I don’t want you.” + </p> + <p> + Norman alone was missing; but he was in his place at church among the + boys. Again, in returning, he slipped out of the party, and was at home + the first, and when this recurred in the afternoon Ethel began to + understand his motive. The High Street led past the spot where the + accident had taken place, though neither she nor any of the others knew + exactly where it was, except Norman, on whose mind the scene was branded + indelibly; she guessed that it was to avoid it that he went along what was + called Randall’s Alley, his usual short cut to school. + </p> + <p> + The Sunday brought back to the children that there was no one to hear + their hymns; but Richard was a great comfort, watching over the little + ones more like a sister than a brother. Ethel was ashamed of herself when + she saw him taking thought for them, tying Blanche’s bonnet, putting + Aubrey’s gloves on, teaching them to put away their Sunday toys, as if he + meant them to be as neat and precise as himself. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May did not encounter the family dinner, nor attempt a second going to + church; but Blanche was very glorious as she led him down to drink tea, + and, before going up again, he had a conversation with Alan Ernescliffe, + who felt himself obliged to leave Stoneborough early on the morrow. + </p> + <p> + “I can endure better to go now,” said he, “and I shall hear of you often; + Hector will let me know, and Richard has promised to write.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, you must let us often have a line. I should guess you were a + letter-writing man.” + </p> + <p> + “I have hitherto had too few friends who cared to hear of me to write + much, but the pleasure of knowing that any interest is taken in me here—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the doctor, “mind that a letter will always be welcome, and + when you are coming southwards, here are your old quarters. We cannot lose + sight of you anyway, especially”—and his voice quivered—“after + the help you gave my poor boys and girls in their distress.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be the utmost satisfaction to think I had been of the smallest + use,” said Alan, hiding much under these commonplace words. + </p> + <p> + “More than I know,” said Dr. May; “too much to speak of. Well, we shall + see you again, though it is a changed place, and you must come and see + your god-daughter—poor child—may she only be brought up as her + sisters were! They will do their best, poor things, and so must I, but it + is sad work!” + </p> + <p> + Both were too much overcome for words, but the doctor was the first to + continue, as he took off his dimmed spectacles. He seemed to wish to + excuse himself for giving way; saying, with a look that would fain have + been a smile, “The world has run so light and easy with me hitherto, that + you see I don’t know how to bear with trouble. All thinking and managing + fell to my Maggie’s share, and I had as little care on my hands as one of + my own boys—poor fellows. I don’t know how it is to turn out, but of + all the men on earth to be left with eleven children, I should choose + myself as the worst.” + </p> + <p> + Alan tried to say somewhat of “Confidence—affection—daughters,” + and broke down, but it did as well as if it had been connected. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said the doctor, “they are good children every one of them. + There’s much to be thankful for, if one could only pluck up heart to feel + it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are convinced that Marga—that Miss May is recovering.” + </p> + <p> + “She has made a great advance today. The head is right, at least,” but the + doctor looked anxious and spoke low as he said, “I am not satisfied about + her yet. That want of power over the limbs, is more than the mere shock + and debility, as it seems to me, though Ward thinks otherwise, and I trust + he is right, but I cannot tell yet as to the spine. If this should not + soon mend I shall have Fleet to see her. He was a fellow-student of mine + very clever, and I have more faith in him than in any one else in that + line.” + </p> + <p> + “By all means—Yes,” said Alan, excessively shocked. “But you will + let me know how she goes on—Richard will be so kind.” + </p> + <p> + “We will not fail,” said Dr May more and more touched at the sight of the + young sailor struggling in vain to restrain his emotion, “you shall hear. + I’ll write myself as soon as I can use my hand, but I hope she may be all + right long before that is likely to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Your kindness—” Alan attempted to say, but began again. “Feeling as + I must—” then interrupting himself. “I beg your pardon, ‘tis no fit + time, nor fit—But you’ll let me hear.” + </p> + <p> + “That I will,” said Dr May, and as Alan hastily left the room, he + continued, half aloud, to himself, “Poor boy! poor fellow. I see. No + wonder! Heaven grant I have not been the breaking of their two young + hearts, as well as my own! Maggie looked doubtful—as much as she + ever did when my mind was set on a thing, when I spoke of bringing him + here. But after all, she liked him as much as the rest of us did—she + could not wish it otherwise—he is one of a thousand, and worthy of + our Margaret. That he is! and Maggie thinks so. If he gets on in his + profession, why then we shall see—” but the sigh of anguish of mind + here showed that the wound had but been forgotten for one moment. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! What am I running on to? I’m all astray for want of her! My poor + girl—” + </p> + <p> + Mr Ernescliffe set out before sunrise. The boys were up to wish him + good-bye, and so were Etheldred and Mary, and some one else, for while the + shaking of hands was going on in the hall there was a call, “Mr + Ernthcliffe,” and over the balusters peeped a little rough curly head, a + face glowing with carnation deepened by sleep, and a round, plump, bare + arm and shoulder, and down at Alan’s feet there fell a construction of + white and pink paper, while a voice lisped out, “Mr Ernthcliffe, there’s a + white rothe for you.” + </p> + <p> + An indignant “Miss Blanche!” was heard behind and there was no certainty + that any thanks reached the poor little heroine, who was evidently borne + off summarily to the nursery, while Ethel gave way to a paroxysm of + suppressed laughter, joined in, more or less, by all the rest, and thus + Alan, promising faithfully to preserve the precious token, left Dr May’s + door, not in so much outward sorrow as he had expected. + </p> + <p> + Even their father laughed at the romance of the white “rothe,” and + declared Blanche was a dangerous young lady; but the story was less + successful with Miss Winter, who gravely said it was no wonder since + Blanche’s elder sister had been setting her the example of forwardness in + coming down in this way after Mr. Ernescliffe. Ethel was very angry, and + was only prevented from vindicating herself by remembering there was no + peacemaker now, and that she had resolved only to think of Miss Winter’s + late kindness, and bear with her tiresome ways. + </p> + <p> + Etheldred thought herself too sorrowful to be liable to her usual faults + which would seem so much worse now; but she found herself more irritable + than usual, and doubly heedless, because her mind was preoccupied. She + hated herself, and suffered more from sorrow than even at the first + moment, for now she felt what it was to have no one to tame her, no eye + over her; she found herself going a tort et a travers all the morning, and + with no one to set her right. Since it was so the first day, what would + follow? + </p> + <p> + Mary was on the contrary so far subdued, as to be exemplary in goodness + and diligence, and Blanche was always steady. Flora was too busy to think + of the school-room, for the whole house was on her hands, besides the + charge of Margaret, while Dr. May went to the hospital, and to sundry + patients, and they thought he seemed the better for the occupation, as + well as gratified and affected by the sympathy he everywhere met with from + high and low. + </p> + <p> + The boys were at school, unseen except when at the dinner play-hour Norman + ran home to ask after his father and sister; but the most trying time was + at eight in the evening, when they came home. That was wont to be the + merriest part of the whole day, the whole family collected, papa at + leisure and ready for talk or for play, mamma smiling over her + work-basket, the sisters full of chatter, the brothers full of fun, all + the tidings of the day discussed, and nothing unwelcome but bedtime. How + different now! The doctor was with Margaret, and though Richard tried to + say something cheerful as his brothers entered, there was no response, and + they sat down on the opposite sides of the fire, forlorn and silent, till + Richard, who was printing some letters on card-board to supply the gaps in + Aubrey’s ivory Alphabet, called Harry to help him; but Ethel, as she sat + at work, could only look at Norman, and wish she could devise anything + likely to gratify him. + </p> + <p> + After a time Flora came down, and laying some sheets of closely written + note-paper before her sister, said, “Here is dear mamma’s unfinished + letter to Aunt Flora. Papa says we elder ones are to read it. It is a + description of us all, and very much indeed we ought to learn from it. I + shall keep a copy of it.” + </p> + <p> + Flora took up her work, and began to consult with Richard, while Ethel + moved to Norman’s side, and kneeling so as to lean against his shoulder, + as he sat on a low cushion, they read their mother’s last letter by the + fire-light, with indescribable feelings, as they went through the subjects + that had lately occupied them, related by her who would never be among + them again. After much of this kind, for her letters to Mrs. Arnott were + almost journals, came, + </p> + <p> + “You say it is long since you had a portrait gallery of the chicken + daisies, and if I do not write in these leisure days, you will hardly get + it after I am in the midst of business again. The new Daisy is like + Margaret at the same age—may she continue like her! Pretty creature, + she can hardly be more charming than at present. Aubrey, the moon-faced, + is far from reconciled to his disposition from babyhood; he is a sober, + solemn gentleman, backward in talking, and with such a will of his own, as + will want much watching; very different from Blanche, who is Flora over + again, perhaps prettier and more fairy-like, unless this is only one’s + admiration for the buds of the present season. None of them has ever been + so winning as this little maid, who even attracts Dr. Hoxton himself, and + obtains sugar-plums and kisses. ‘Rather she than I,’ says Harry, but + notice is notice to the white Mayflower, and there is my anxiety—I + am afraid it is not wholesome to be too engaging ever to get a rebuff. I + hope having a younger sister, and outgrowing baby charms may be salutary. + Flora soon left off thinking about her beauty, and the fit of vanity does + less harm at five than fifteen. My poor Tom has not such a happy life as + Blanche, he is often in trouble at lessons, and bullied by Harry at play, + in spite of his champion, Mary; and yet I cannot interfere, for it is good + for him to have all this preparatory teasing before he goes into school. + He has good abilities, but not much perseverance or energy, and I must + take the teaching of him into my own hands till his school-days begin, in + hopes of instilling them. The girlishness and timidity will be knocked out + of him by the boys, I suppose; Harry is too kind and generous to do more + than tease him moderately, and Norman will see that it does not go too + far. It is a common saying that Tom and Mary made a mistake, that he is + the girl, and she the boy, for she is a rough, merry creature, the + noisiest in the house, always skirmishing with Harry in defence of Tom, + and yet devoted to him, and wanting to do everything he does. Those two, + Harry and Mary, are exactly alike, except for Harry’s curly mane of + lion-coloured wig. The yellow-haired laddie, is papa’s name for Harry, + which he does not mind from him, though furious if the girls attempt to + call him so. Harry is the thorough boy of the family, all spirit, + recklessness, and mischief, but so true, and kind, and noble-hearted, that + one loves him the better after every freely confessed scrape. I cannot + tell you how grateful I am to my boy for his perfect confidence, the thing + that chiefly lessens my anxiety for him in his half-school, half-home + life, which does not seem to me to work quite well with him. There are two + sons of Mrs. Anderson’s at the school, who are more his friends than I + like, and he is too easily led by the desire not to be outdone, and to + show that he fears nothing. Lately, our sailor-guest has inspired him with + a vehement wish to go to sea; I wish it was not necessary that the + decision should be made so early in life, for this fault is just what + would make us most fear to send him into the world very young, though in + some ways it might not do amiss for him. + </p> + <p> + “So much for the younger bairns, whom you never beheld, dear Flora. The + three whom you left, when people used to waste pity on me for their being + all babies together, now look as if any pair of them were twins, for + Norman is the tallest, almost outgrowing his strength, and Ethel’s sharp + face, so like her papa’s, makes her look older than Flora. Norman and + Ethel do indeed take after their papa, more than any of the others, and + are much alike. There is the same brilliant cleverness, the same strong + feeling, not easy of demonstration, though impetuous in action; but poor + Ethel’s old foibles, her harum-scarum nature, quick temper, uncouth + manners, and heedlessness of all but one absorbing object, have kept her + back, and caused her much discomfort; yet I sometimes think these manifest + defects have occasioned a discipline that is the best thing for the + character in the end. They are faults that show themselves, and which one + can tell how to deal with, and I have full confidence that she has the + principle within her that will conquer them.” + </p> + <p> + “If—” mournfully sighed Ethel; but her brother pointed on further. + </p> + <p> + “My great hope is her entire indifference to praise—not approval, + but praise. If she has not come up to her own standard, she works on, not + always with good temper, but perseveringly, and entirely, unheeding of + commendation till she has satisfied herself, only thinking it stupid not + to see the faults. It is this independence of praise that I want to see in + her brother and sister. They justly earn it, and are rightly pleased with + it; but I cannot feel sure whether they do not depend on it too much. + Norman lives, like all school-boys, a life of emulation, and has never met + with anything but success. I do believe Dr. Hoxton and Mr. Wilmot are as + proud of him as we are; and he has never shown any tendency to conceit, + but I am afraid he has the love of being foremost, and pride in his + superiority, caring for what he is, compared with others, rather than what + he is himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Norman; “I have done so, but that’s over. I see what it is + worth. I’d give all the quam optimes I ever got in my life to be the help + Richard is to papa.” + </p> + <p> + “You would if you were his age.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I, I’m not the sort. I’m not like her. But are we to go on about the + elders?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, don’t let us miss a word. There can’t be anything but praise of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sweet goddaughter. I almost feel as if I had spoken in disparagement + of her, but I meant no such thing, dear girl. It would be hard to find a + fault in her, since the childish love of admiration was subdued. She is so + solid and steady, as to be very valuable with the younger ones, and is + fast growing so lovely, that I wish you could behold her. I do not see any + vanity, but there lies my dread, not of beauty—vanity, but that she + will find temptation in the being everywhere liked and sought after. As to + Margaret, my precious companion and friend, you have heard enough of her + to know her, and, as to telling you what she is like, I could as soon set + about describing her papa. When I thought of not being spared to them this + time, it was happiness indeed to think of her at their head, fit to be his + companion, with so much of his own talent as to be more up to conversation + with him, than he could ever have found his stupid old Maggie. It was + rather a trial of her discretion to have Mr. Ernescliffe here while I was + upstairs, and very well she seems to have come out of it. Poor Richard’s + last disappointment is still our chief trouble. He has been working hard + with a tutor all through the vacation, and has not even come home to see + his new sister, on his way to Oxford. He had made a resolution that he + would not come to us till he had passed, and his father thought it best + that it should be kept. I hope he will succeed next time, but his + nervousness renders it still more doubtful. With him it is the very + reverse of Norman. He suffers too much for want of commendation, and I + cannot wonder at it, when I see how much each failure vexes his father, + and Richard little knows how precious is our perfect confidence in him, + how much more valuable than any honours he could earn. You would be amused + to see how little he is altered from the pretty little fair fellow, that + you used to say was so like my old portrait, even the wavy rings of light + glossy hair sit on his forehead, just as you liked to twist them; and his + small trim figure is a fine contrast to Norman’s long legs and arms, which—” + </p> + <p> + There the letter broke off, the playful affection of the last words making + it almost more painful to think that the fond hand would never finish the + sentence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A drooping daisy changed into a cup, + In which her bright-eyed beauty is shut up. + WORDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + “So there you are up for the day—really you look very comfortable,” + said Ethel, coming into the room where Margaret lay on her bed, + half-raised by pillows, supported by a wooden frame. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, is not it a charming contrivance of Richard’s? It quite gives me the + use of my hands,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “I think he is doing something else for you,” said Ethel; “I heard him + carpentering at six o’clock this morning, but I suppose it is to be a + secret.” + </p> + <p> + “And don’t you admire her night-cap?” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Is it anything different?” said Ethel, peering closer. “Oh, I see—so + she has a fine day night-cap. Is that your taste, Flora?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly,” said Margaret, “and partly my own. I put in all these little + white puffs, and I hope you think they do me credit. Wasn’t it grand of + me?” + </p> + <p> + “She only despises you for them,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I’m very glad you could,” said Ethel, gravely; “but do you know? it is + rather like that horrid old lady in some book, who had a paralytic stroke, + and the first thing she did that showed she had come to her senses was to + write, ‘Rose-coloured curtains for the doctors.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was for the doctor,” said Margaret, “and it had its effect. He + told me I looked much better when he found me trying it on.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you really have the looking-glass and try it on?” cried Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, really,” said Flora. “Don’t you think one may as well be fit to be + seen if one is ill? It is no use to depress one’s friends by being more + forlorn and disconsolate than one can help.” + </p> + <p> + “No—not disconsolate,” said Ethel; “but the white puffiness—and + the hemming—and the glass!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Ethel can’t get over it,” said Margaret. “But, Ethel, do you think + there is nothing disconsolate in untidiness?” + </p> + <p> + “You could be tidy without the little puffs! Your first bit of work too! + Don’t think I’m tiresome. If they were an amusement to you, I am sure I am + very glad of them, but I can’t see the sense of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little things!” said Margaret laughing. “It is only my foible for + making a thing look nice. And, Ethel,” she added, drawing her down close + over her, “I did not think the trouble wasted, if seeing me look fresher + cheered up dear papa a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “I spoke to papa about nurse’s proposal,” said Margaret presently to + Flora, “and he quite agrees to it. Indeed it is impossible that Anne + should attend properly to all the children while nurse is so much engaged + with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” said Flora; “and it does not answer to bring Aubrey into the + school-room. It only makes Mary and Blanche idle, and Miss Winter does not + like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the question is, who shall it be? Nurse has no one in view, and only + protests against ‘one of the girls out of the school here.’” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a great pity,” said Flora. “Don’t you think we could make her take + to Jane White, she is so very nice.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of her, but it will never answer if we displease nurse. + Besides, I remember at the time Anne came, dear mamma thought there was + danger of a girl’s having too many acquaintances, especially taking the + children out walking. We cannot always be sure of sending her out with + Anne.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember—” said Ethel, there stopping. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said both sisters. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you recollect, Flora, that girl whose father was in the hospital—that + girl at Cocksmoor?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Flora. “She was a very nice girl; I wonder whether nurse + would approve of her.” + </p> + <p> + “How old?” said Margaret. “Fourteen, and tall. Such a clean cottage!” + </p> + <p> + The girls went on, and Margaret began to like the idea very much, and + consider whether the girl could be brought for inspection, before nurse + was prejudiced by hearing of her Cocksmoor extraction. At that moment + Richard knocked at the door, and entered with Tom, helping him to bring a + small short-legged table, such as could stand on the bed at the right + height for Margaret’s meals or employments. + </p> + <p> + There were great exclamations of satisfaction, and gratitude; “it was the + very thing wanted, only how could he have contrived it?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you recognise it?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see; it is the old drawing-desk that no one used. And you have put + legs to it—how famous! You are the best contriver, Richard!” + </p> + <p> + “Then see, you can raise it up for reading or writing; here’s a corner for + your ink to stand flat; and there it is down for your dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Charming, you have made it go so easily, when it used to be so stiff. + There—give me my work-basket, please, Ethel; I mean to make some + more white puffs.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter now, Ethel?” said Flora; “you look as if you did not + approve of the table.” + </p> + <p> + “I was only thinking it was as if she was settling herself to lie in bed + for a very long time,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” said Richard; “but I don’t see why she should not be as + comfortable as she can, while she is there.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I hope you will never be ill, Ethel,” said Flora. “You would be + horrid to nurse!” + </p> + <p> + “She will know how to be grateful when she is,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Richard,” exclaimed Ethel, “this is hospital-meeting day, so you + won’t be wanted to drive papa.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am at your service; do you want a walk?” + </p> + <p> + So it was determined that Richard and Ethel should walk together to + Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + No two people could be much more unlike than Richard and Etheldred May; + but they were very fond of each other. Richard was sometimes seriously + annoyed by Ethel’s heedlessness, and did not always understand her + sublimities, but he had a great deal of admiration for one who partook so + much of his father’s nature; and Ethel had a due respect for her eldest + brother, gratitude and strong affection for many kindnesses, a reverence + for his sterling goodness, and his exemption from her own besetting + failings, only a little damped by compassionate wonder at his deficiency + in talent, and by her vexation at not being always comprehended. + </p> + <p> + They went by the road, for the plantation gate was far too serious an + undertaking for any one not in the highest spirits for enterprise. On the + way there was a good deal of that desultory talk, very sociable and + interesting, that is apt to prevail between two people, who would never + have chosen each other for companions, if they were not of the same + family, but who are nevertheless very affectionate and companionable. + Ethel was anxious to hear what her brother thought of papa’s spirits, and + whether he talked in their drives. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes,” said Richard. “It is just as it happens. Now and then he goes + on just like himself, and then at other times he will not speak for three + or four miles.” + </p> + <p> + “And he sighs?” said Ethel. “Those sighs are so very sad, and long, and + deep! They seem to have whole volumes in them, as if there was such a + weight on him.” + </p> + <p> + “Some people say he is not as much altered as they expected,” said + Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do they? Well! I can’t fancy any one feeling it more. He can’t leave + off his old self, of course, but—” Ethel stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret is a great comfort to him,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “That she is. She thinks of him all day long, and I don’t think either of + them is ever so happy as in the evening, when he sits with her. They talk + about mamma then—” + </p> + <p> + It was just what Richard could not do, and he made some observation to + change the subject, but Ethel returned to it, so far as to beg to know how + the arm was going on, for she did not like to say anything about it to + papa. + </p> + <p> + “It will be a long business, I am afraid,” said Richard. “Indeed, he said + the other day, he thought he should never have the free use of the elbow.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you think it is very painful? I saw the other day, when Aubrey was + sitting on his knee and fidgeting, he shrank whenever he even came towards + it, and yet it seemed as if he could not bear to put him down.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes it is excessively tender, and sometimes gets very bad at night.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Ethel; “there’s a line—here—round his eyes, that + there never used to be, and when it deepens, I am sure he is in pain, or + has been kept awake.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very odd, Ethel; how do you see things in people’s faces, when + you miss so much at just the same distance?” + </p> + <p> + “I look after what I care about,” said Ethel. “One sees more with one’s + mind than one’s eyes. The best sight is inside.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you always see the truth?” said Richard gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Quite enough. What is less common than the ordinary world?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + Richard shook his head, not quite satisfied, but not sure enough that he + entered into her meaning to question it. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder you don’t wear spectacles,” was the result of his meditation, + and it made her laugh by being so inapposite to her own reflections: but + the laugh ended in a melancholy look. “Dear mamma did not like me to use + them,” she said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + Thus they talked till they arrived at Cocksmoor, where poor Mrs. Taylor, + inspirited by better reports of her husband and the hopes for her + daughter, was like another woman. Richard was very careful not to raise + false expectations, saying it all depended on Miss May and nurse, and what + they thought of her strength and steadiness, but these cautions did not + seem capable of damping the hopes of the smooth-haired Lucy, who stood + smiling and curtseying. The twins were grown and improved, and Ethel + supposed they would be brought to church on the next christening Sunday, + but their mother looked helpless and hopeless about getting them so far, + and how was she to get gossips? Ethel began to grow very indignant, but + she was always shy of finding fault with poor people to their faces when + she would not have done so to persons in her own station, and so she was + silent, while Richard hoped they would be able to manage, and said it + would be better not to wait another month for still worse weather and + shorter days. + </p> + <p> + As they were coming out of the house, a big, rough-looking, uncivilised + boy came up before them, and called out, “I say—ben’t you the young + doctor up at Stoneborough?” + </p> + <p> + “I am Dr. May’s son,” said Richard; while Ethel, startled, clung to his + arm, in dread of some rudeness. + </p> + <p> + “Granny’s bad,” said the boy; proceeding without further explanation to + lead the way to another hovel, though Richard tried to explain that the + knowledge of medicine was not in his case hereditary. A poor old woman sat + groaning over the fire, and two children crouched, half-clothed, on the + bare floor. + </p> + <p> + Richard’s gentle voice and kind manner drew forth some wonderful + descriptions—“her head was all of a goggle, her legs all of a fur, + she felt as if some one was cutting right through her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Richard kindly, “I am no doctor myself, but I’ll ask my + father about you, and perhaps he can give you an order for the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, thank ye, sir; I can’t go to the hospital, I can’t leave these + poor children; they’ve no father nor mother, sir, and no one to do for + them but me.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you live on, then?” said Richard, looking round the desolate hut. + </p> + <p> + “On Sam’s wages, sir; that’s that boy. He is a good boy to me, sir, and + his little sisters; he brings it, all he gets, home to me, rig’lar, but + ‘tis but six shillings a week, and they makes ‘em take half of it out in + goods and beer, which is a bad thing for a boy like him, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How old are you, Sam?” + </p> + <p> + Sam scratched his head, and answered nothing. His grandmother knew he was + the age of her black bonnet, and as he looked about fifteen, Ethel + honoured him and the bonnet accordingly, while Richard said he must be + very glad to be able to maintain them all, at his age, and, promising to + try to bring his father that way, since prescribing at second hand for + such curious symptoms was more than could be expected, he took his leave. + </p> + <p> + “A wretched place,” said Richard, looking round. “I don’t know what help + there is for the people. There’s no one to do any thing for them, and it + is of no use to tell them to come to church when it it so far off, and + there is so little room for them.” + </p> + <p> + “It is miserable,” said Ethel; and all her thoughts during her last walk + thither began to rush over her again, not effaced, but rather burned in, + by all that had subsequently happened. She had said it should be her aim + and effort to make Cocksmoor a Christian place. Such a resolve must not + pass away lightly; she knew it must be acted on, but how? What would her + present means—one sovereign—effect? Her fancies, rich and + rare, had nearly been forgotten of late, but she might make them of use in + time—in time, and here were hives of children growing up in + heathenism. Suddenly an idea struck her—Richard, when at home, was a + very diligent teacher in the Sunday-school at Stoneborough, though it was + a thankless task, and he was the only gentleman so engaged, except the two + clergymen—the other male teachers being a formal, grave, little + baker, and one or two monitors. + </p> + <p> + “Richard,” said Ethel, “I’ll tell you what. Suppose we were to get up a + Sunday-school at Cocksmoor. We could get a room, and walk there every + Sunday afternoon, and go to church in the evening instead.” + </p> + <p> + He was so confounded by the suddenness of the project, that he did not + answer, till she had time for several exclamations and “Well, Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell,” he said. “Going to church in the evening would interfere + with tea-time—put out all the house—make the evening + uncomfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “The evenings are horrid now, especially Sundays,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “But missing two more would make them worse for the others.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa is always with Margaret,” said Ethel. “We are of no use to him. + Besides these poor children—are not they of more importance?” + </p> + <p> + “And, then, what is to become of Stoneborough school?” + </p> + <p> + “I hate it,” exclaimed Ethel; then seeing Richard shocked, and finding she + had spoken more vehemently than she intended—“It is not as bad for + you among the boys, but, while that committee goes on it is not the least + use to try to teach the girls right. Oh! the fusses about the books, and + one’s way of teaching! And fancy how Mrs Ledwich used us. You know I went + again last Sunday, for the first time, and there I found that class of + Margaret’s, that she had just managed to get into some degree of nice + order, taken so much pains with, taught so well. She had been telling me + what to hear them—there it is given away to Fanny Anderson, who is + no more fit to teach than that stick, and all Margaret’s work will be + undone. No notice to us—not even the civility to wait and see when + she gets better.” + </p> + <p> + “If we left them now for Cocksmoor, would it not look as it we were + affronted?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was slightly taken aback, but only said, “Papa would be very angry + if he knew it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you did not tell him,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it would only tease him,” said Ethel, “and that he might call + it a petty female squabble; and when Margaret is well, it will come right, + if Fanny Anderson has not spoiled the girls in the meantime. It is all + Mrs. Ledwich’s doing. How I did hate it when every one came up and shook + hands with me, and asked after Margaret and papa, only just out of + curiosity!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush, Ethel, what’s the use of thinking such things?” + </p> + <p> + A silence,—then she exclaimed, “But, indeed, Richard, you don’t + fancy that I want to teach at Cocksmoor, because it is disagreeable at + Stoneborough?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + The rendering of full justice conveyed in his tone so opened Ethel’s heart + that she went on eagerly:—“The history of it is this. Last time we + walked here, that day, I said, and I meant it, that I would never put it + out of my head; I would go on doing and striving, and trying, till this + place was properly cared for, and has a church and a clergyman. I believe + it was a vow, Richard, I do believe it was,—and if one makes one, + one must keep it. There it is. So, I can’t give money, I have but one + pound in the world, but I have time, and I would make that useful, if you + would help me.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see how,” was the answer, and there was a fragment of a smile on + Richard’s face, as if it struck him as a wild scheme, that Ethel should + undertake, single handed, to evangelise Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + It was such a damper as to be most mortifying to an enthusiastic girl, and + she drew into herself in a moment. + </p> + <p> + They walked home in silence, and when Richard warned her that she was not + keeping her dress out of the dirt, it sounded like a sarcasm on her + projects, and, with a slightly pettish manner, she raised the unfortunate + skirt, its crape trimmings greatly bespattered with ruddy mud. Then + recollecting how mamma would have shaken her head at that very thing, she + regretted the temper she had betrayed, and in a larmoyante voice, sighed, + “I wish I could pick my way better. Some people have the gift, you have + hardly a splash, and I’m up to the ankles in mud.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only taking care,” said Richard; “besides your frock is so long, + and full. Can’t you tuck it up and pin it?” + </p> + <p> + “My pins always come out,” said Ethel, disconsolately, crumpling the black + folds into one hand, while she hunted for a pin with the other. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder, if you stick them in that way,” said Richard. “Oh! you’ll tear + that crape. Here, let me help you. Don’t you see, make it go in and out, + that way; give it something to pull against.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel laughed. “That’s the third thing you have taught me—to thread + a needle, tie a bow, and stick in a pin! I never could learn those things + of any one else; they show, but don’t explain the theory.” + </p> + <p> + They met Dr. May at the entrance of the town, very tired, and saying he + had been a long tramp, all over the place, and Mrs. Hoxton had been boring + him with her fancies. As he took Richard’s arm he gave the long heavy sigh + that always fell so painfully on Ethel’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear, dear papa!” thought she, “my work must also be to do all I + can to comfort him.” + </p> + <p> + Her reflections were broken off. Dr. May exclaimed, “Ethel, don’t make + such a figure of yourself. Those muddy ankles and petticoats are not fit + to be seen—there, now you are sweeping the pavement. Have you no + medium? One would think you had never worn a gown in your life before!” + </p> + <p> + Poor Ethel stepped on before with mud-encrusted heels, and her father + speaking sharply in the weariness and soreness of his heart; her + draggle-tailed petticoats weighing down at once her missionary projects at + Cocksmoor, and her tender visions of comforting her widowed father; her + heart was full to overflowing, and where was the mother to hear her + troubles? + </p> + <p> + She opened the hall door, and would have rushed upstairs, but nurse + happened to be crossing the hall. “Miss Ethel! Miss Ethel, you aren’t + going up with them boots on! I do declare you are just like one of the + boys. And your frock!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel sat submissively down on the lowest step, and pulled off her boots. + As she did so, her father and brother came in—the former desiring + Richard to come with him to the study, and write a note for him. She hoped + that thus she might have Margaret to herself, and hurried into her room. + Margaret was alone, maids and children at tea, and Flora dressing. The + room was in twilight, with the red gleam of the fire playing cheerfully + over it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ethel, have you had a pleasant walk?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no—Oh, Margaret!” and throwing herself across the bottom + of the bed, she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, dear, what is the matter? Papa—” + </p> + <p> + “No—no—only I draggled my frock, and Richard threw cold water. + And I am good for nothing! Oh! if mamma was but here!” + </p> + <p> + “Darling Ethel, dear Ethel, I wish I could comfort you. Come a little + nearer to me, I can’t reach you! Dear Ethel, what has gone wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” said Ethel. “No—I’m too dirty to come on your white + bed; I forgot, you won’t like it,” added she, in an injured tone. + </p> + <p> + “You are wet, you are cold, you are tired,” said Margaret. “Stay here and + dress, don’t go up in the cold. There, sit by the fire pull off your frock + and stockings, and we will send for the others. Let me see you look + comfortable—there. Now tell me who threw cold water.” + </p> + <p> + “It was figurative cold water,” said Ethel, smiling for a moment. “I was + only silly enough to tell Richard my plan, and it’s horrid to talk to a + person who only thinks one high-flying and nonsensical—and then came + the dirt.” + </p> + <p> + “But what was the scheme, Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “Cocksmoor,” said Ethel, proceeding to unfold it. + </p> + <p> + “I wish we could,” said Margaret. “It would be an excellent thing. But how + did Richard vex you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said Ethel, “only he thought it would not do. Perhaps he + said right, but it was coldly, and he smiled.” + </p> + <p> + “He is too sober-minded for our flights,” said Margaret. “I know the + feeling of it, Ethel dear; but you know if he did see that some of your + plans might not answer, it is no reason you should not try to do something + at once. You have not told me about the girl.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel proceeded to tell the history. “There!” said Margaret cheerfully, + “there are two ways of helping Cocksmoor already. Could you not make some + clothes for the two grandchildren? I could help you a little, and then, if + they were well clothed, you might get them to come to the Sunday-school. + And as to the twins, I wonder what the hire of a cart would be to bring + the christening party? It is just what Richard could manage.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel; “but those are only little isolated individual things!” + </p> + <p> + “But one must make a beginning.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Margaret, you think it was a real vow? You don’t think it silly of + me?” said Ethel wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, dear, I don’t think dear mamma would say we ought to make vows, + except what the church decrees for us. I don’t think she would like the + notion of your considering yourself pledged; but I do think, that, after + all you have said and felt about Cocksmoor, and being led there on that + day, it does seem as if we might be intended to make it our especial + charge.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret, I am glad you say so. You always understand.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know we are so young, that now we have not her to judge for us, + we must only do little things that we are quite sure of, or we shall get + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not the way great things were done.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, Ethel; I think great things can’t be good unless they stand + on a sure foundation of little ones.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I believe Richard was right, and it would not do to begin on + Sunday, but he was so tame; and then my frock, and the horrid deficiency + in those little neatnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps that is good for you in one way; you might get very high-flying + if you had not the discipline of those little tiresome things, correcting + them will help you, and keep your high things from being all romance. I + know dear mamma used to say so; that the trying to conquer them was a help + to you. Oh, here’s Mary! Mary, will you get Ethel’s dressing things? She + has come home wet-footed and cold, and has been warming herself by my + fire.” + </p> + <p> + Mary was happy to help, and Ethel was dressed and cheered by the time Dr. + May came in, for a hurried visit and report of his doings; Flora followed + on her way from her room. Then all went to tea, leaving Margaret to have a + visit from the little ones under charge of nurse. Two hours’ stay with + her, that precious time when she knew that sad as the talk often was, it + was truly a comfort to him. It ended when ten o’clock struck, and he went + down—Margaret hearing the bell, the sounds of the assembling + servants, the shutting of the door, the stillness of prayer-time, the + opening again, the feet moving off in different directions, then brothers + and sisters coming in to kiss her and bid her good-night, nurse and Flora + arranging her for the night, Flora coming to sleep in her little bed in + the corner of the room, and, lastly, her father’s tender good-night, and + melancholy look at her, and all was quiet, except the low voices and + movements as Richard attended him in his own room. + </p> + <p> + Margaret could think: “Dear, dear Ethel, how noble and high she is! But I + am afraid! It is what people call a difficult, dangerous age, and the + grander she is, the greater danger of not managing her rightly. If those + high purposes should run only into romance like mine, or grow out into + eccentricities and unfemininesses, what a grievous pity it would be! And + I, so little older, so much less clever, with just sympathy enough not to + be a wise restraint—I am the person who has the responsibility, and + oh, what shall I do? Mamma trusted to me to be a mother to them, papa + looks to me, and I so unfit, besides this helplessness. But God sent it, + and put me in my place. He made me lie here, and will raise me up if it is + good, so I trust He will help me with my sisters.” + </p> + <p> + “Grant me to have a right judgment in all things, and evermore to rejoice + in Thy holy comfort.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Something between a hindrance and a help. + WORDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + Etheldred awoke long before time for getting up, and lay pondering over + her visions. Margaret had sympathised, and therefore they did not seem + entirely aerial. To earn money by writing was her favourite plan, and she + called her various romances in turn before her memory, to judge which + might be brought down to sober pen and ink. She considered till it became + not too unreasonably early to get up. It was dark, but there was a little + light close to the window: she had no writing-paper, but she would + interline her old exercise-book. Down she ran, and crouching in the + school-room window-seat, she wrote on in a trance of eager composition, + till Norman called her, as he went to school, to help him to find a book. + </p> + <p> + This done, she went up to visit Margaret, to tell her the story, and + consult her. But this was not so easy. She found Margaret with little + Daisy lying by her, and Tom sitting by the fire over his Latin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ethel, good-morning, dear! you are come just in time.” + </p> + <p> + “To take baby?” said Ethel, as the child was fretting a little. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank you, she has been very good, but she was tired of lying here, + and I can’t move her about,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret, I have such a plan,” said Ethel, as she walked about with + little Gertrude; but Tom interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret, will you see if I can say my lesson?” and the thumbed Latin + grammar came across her just as Dr. May’s door opened, and he came in + exclaiming, “Latin grammar! Margaret, this is really too much for you. + Good-morning, my dears. Ha! Tommy, take your book away, my boy. You must + not inflict that on sister now. There’s your regular master, Richard, in + my room, if it is fit for his ears yet. What, the little one here too?” + </p> + <p> + “How is your arm, papa?” said Margaret. “Did it keep you awake?” + </p> + <p> + “Not long—it set me dreaming though, and a very romantic dream it + was, worthy of Ethel herself.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was an odd thing, joining on strangely enough with one I had three + or four and twenty years ago, when I was a young man, hearing lectures at + Edinburgh, and courting—” he stopped, and felt Margaret’s pulse, + asked her a few questions, and talked to the baby. Ethel longed to hear + his dream, but thought he would not like to go on; however, he did + presently. + </p> + <p> + “The old dream was the night after a picnic on Arthur’s Seat with the + Mackenzies; mamma and Aunt Flora were there. ‘Twas a regular boy’s dream, + a tournament, or something of that nature, where I was victor, the queen—you + know who she was—giving me her token—a Daisy Chain.” + </p> + <p> + “That is why you like to call us your Daisy Chain,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Did you write it in verse?” said Margaret. “I think I once saw some + verses like it in her desk.” + </p> + <p> + “I was in love, and three-and-twenty,” said the doctor, looking drolly + guilty in the midst of his sadness. “Ay, those fixed it in my memory, + perhaps my fancy made it more distinct than it really was. An evening or + two ago I met with them, and that stirred it up I suppose. Last night came + the tournament again, but it was the melee, a sense of being crushed down, + suffocated by the throng of armed knights and horses—pain and wounds—and + I looked in vain through the opposing overwhelming host for my—my + Maggie. Well, I got the worst of it, my sword arm was broken—I fell, + was stifled—crushed—in misery—all I could do was to + grasp my token—my Daisy Chain,” and he pressed Margaret’s hand as he + said so. “And, behold, the tumult and despair were passed. I lay on the + grass in the cloisters, and the Daisy Chain hung from the sky, and was + drawing me upwards. There—it is a queer dream for a sober old + country doctor. I don’t know why I told you, don’t tell any one again.” + </p> + <p> + And he walked away, muttering. “For he told me his dreams, talked of + eating and drinking,” leaving Margaret with her eyes full of tears, and + Ethel vehemently caressing the baby. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “It has been a comfort to him, I am sure,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t think it ominous,” said Ethel with a slight tremulous voice. + </p> + <p> + “More soothing than anything else. It is what we all feel, is it not? that + this little daisy bud is the link between us and heaven?” + </p> + <p> + “But about him. He was victor at first—vanquished the next time.” + </p> + <p> + “I think—if it is to have an interpretation, though I am not sure we + ought to take it so seriously, it would only mean that in younger days + people care for victory and distinction in this world, like Norman, or as + papa most likely did then; but, as they grow older, they care less, and + others pass them, and they know it does not signify, for in our race all + may win.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has a great name. How many people come from a distance to consult + him! he is looked upon, too, in other ways! he can do anything with the + corporation.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret smiled. “All this does not sound grand—it is not as if he + had set up in London.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, I am so glad he did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you what mamma told me he said about it, when Uncle + Mackenzie said he ought? He answered that he thought health and happy home + attachments were a better provision for us to set out in life with than + thousands.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure he was right!” said Ethel earnestly. “Then you don’t think the + dream meant being beaten, only that our best things are not gained by + successes in this world?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go and let it dwell on your mind as a vision,” said Margaret. “I + think dear mamma would call that silly.” + </p> + <p> + An interruption occurred, and Ethel had to go down to breakfast with a + mind floating between romance, sorrow, and high aspirations, very unlike + the actual world she had to live in. First, there was a sick man walking + into the study, and her father, laying down his letters, saying, “I must + despatch him before prayers, I suppose. I’ve a great mind to say I never + will see any one who won’t keep to my days.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t imagine why they don’t,” said Flora, as he went. “He is always + saying so, but never acting on it. If he would once turn one away, the + rest would mind.” + </p> + <p> + Richard went on in silence, cutting bread and butter. + </p> + <p> + “There’s another ring,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is caught now, they’ll go on in a stream. I shall not keep + Margaret waiting for her breakfast, I shall take it up.” + </p> + <p> + The morning was tiresome; though Dr. May had two regular days for seeing + poor people at his house, he was too good-natured to keep strictly to + them, and this day, as Flora had predicted, there was a procession of them + not soon got rid of, even by his rapid queries and the talismanic figures + made by his left hand on scraps of paper, with which he sent them off to + the infirmary. Ethel tried to read; the children lingered about; it was a + trial of temper to all but Tom, who obtained Richard’s attention to his + lessons. He liked to say them to his brother, and was an incentive to + learn them quickly, that none might remain for Miss Winter when Richard + went out with his father. If mamma had been there, she would have had + prayers; but now no one had authority enough, though they did at last even + finish breakfast. Just as the gig came to the door, Dr. May dismissed his + last patient, rang the bell in haste, and as soon as prayers were over, + declared he had an appointment, and had no time to eat. There was a + general outcry that it was bad enough when he was well, and now he must + not take liberties; Flora made him drink some tea; and Richard placed + morsels in his way, while he read his letters. He ran up for a final look + at Margaret, almost upset the staid Miss Winter as he ran down again, + called Richard to take the reins, and was off. + </p> + <p> + It was French day, always a trial to Ethel. M. Ballompre, the master, knew + what was good and bad French, but could not render a reason, and Ethel, + being versed in the principles of grammar, from her Latin studies, chose + to know the why and wherefore of his corrections—she did not like to + see her pages defaced, and have no security against future errors; while + he thought her a troublesome pupil, and was put out by her questions. They + wrangled, Miss Winter was displeased, and Ethel felt injured. + </p> + <p> + Mary’s inability to catch the pronunciation, and her hopeless dull look + when she found that coeur must not be pronounced cour, nor cur, but + something between, to which her rosy English lips could never come—all + this did not tease M. Ballompre, for he was used to it. + </p> + <p> + His mark for Ethel’s lesson was “de l’humeur.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” said Miss Winter, when he was gone. “I thought you had + outgrown that habit of disputing over every phrase.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell how a language is to be learned without knowing the reasons + of one’s mistakes,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “That is what you always say, my dear. It is of no use to renew it all, + but I wish you would control yourself. Now, Mary, call Blanche, and you + and Ethel take your arithmetic.” + </p> + <p> + So Flora went to read to Margaret, while Blanche went lightly and + playfully through her easy lessons, and Mary floundered piteously over the + difficulties of Compound Long Division. Ethel’s mind was in too irritated + and tumultuous a state for her to derive her usual solace from Cube Root. + Her sum was wrong, and she wanted to work it right, but Miss Winter, who + had little liking for the higher branches of arithmetic, said she had + spent time enough over it, and summoned her to an examination such as the + governess was very fond of and often practised. Ethel thought it useless, + and was teased by it; and though her answers were chiefly correct, they + were given in an irritated tone. It was of this kind:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What is the date of the invention of paper? + What is the latitude and longitude of Otaheite? + What are the component parts of brass? + Whence is cochineal imported? +</pre> + <p> + When this was over, Ethel had to fetch her mending-basket, and Mary her + book of selections; the piece for to-day’s lesson was the quarrel of + Brutus and Cassius; and Mary’s dull droning tone was a trial to her ears; + she presently exclaimed, “Oh, Mary, don’t murder it!” + </p> + <p> + “Murder what?” said Mary, opening wide her light blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “That use of exaggerated language,—” began Miss Winter. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve heard papa say it,” said Ethel, only wanting to silence Miss Winter. + In a cooler moment she would not have used the argument. + </p> + <p> + “All that a gentleman may say, may not be a precedent for a young lady; + but you are interrupting Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “Only let me show her. I can’t bear to hear her, listen, Mary. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What shall one of us + That struck the foremost”— +</pre> + <p> + “That is declaiming,” said Miss Winter. “It is not what we wish for in a + lady. You are neglecting your work and interfering.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel made a fretful contortion, and obeyed. So it went on all the + morning, Ethel’s eagerness checked by Miss Winter’s dry manner, producing + pettishness, till Ethel, in a state between self-reproach and a sense of + injustice, went up to prepare for dinner, and to visit Margaret on the + way. + </p> + <p> + She found her sister picking a merino frock to pieces. “See here,” she + said eagerly, “I thought you would like to make up this old frock for one + of the Cocksmoor children; but what is the matter?” as Ethel did not show + the lively interest that she expected. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing, only Miss Winter is so tiresome.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything, it was all horrid. I was cross, I know, but she and M. + Ballompre made me so;” and Ethel was in the midst of the narration of her + grievances, when Norman came in. The school was half a mile off, but he + had not once failed to come home, in the interval allowed for play after + dinner, to inquire for his sister. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Norman, you are out of breath, sit down and rest. What is doing at + school; are you dux of your class?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the boy wearily. + </p> + <p> + “What mark for the verses?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Quam bene.” + </p> + <p> + “Not optime?” + </p> + <p> + “No, they were tame,” Dr. Hoxton said. + </p> + <p> + “What is Harry doing?” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “He is fourth in his form. I left him at football.” + </p> + <p> + “Dinner!” said Flora at the door. “What will you have, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll fetch it,” said Norman, who considered it his privilege to wait on + Margaret at dinner. When he had brought the tray, he stood leaning against + the bed-post, musing. Suddenly, there was a considerable clatter of + fire-irons, and his violent start surprised Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel has been poking the fire,” she said, as if no more was needed to + account for their insecurity. Norman put them up again, but a ringing + sound betrayed that it was not with a firm touch, and when, a minute + after, he came to take her plate, she saw that he was trying with effort + to steady his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Norman, dear, are you sure you are well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very well,” said he, as if vexed that she had taken any notice. + </p> + <p> + “You had better not come racing home. I’m not worth inquiries now, I am so + much better,” said she, smiling. + </p> + <p> + He made no reply, but this was not consenting silence. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like you to lose your football,” she proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “I could not—” and he stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “It would be much better for you,” said she, looking up in his face with + anxious affectionate eyes, but he shunned her glance and walked away with + her plate. + </p> + <p> + Flora had been in such close attendance upon Margaret, that she needed + some cheerful walks, and though she had some doubts how affairs at home + would go on without her, she was overruled, and sent on a long expedition + with Miss Winter and Mary, while Ethel remained with Margaret. + </p> + <p> + The only delay before setting out, was that nurse came in, saying, “If you + please, Miss Margaret, there is a girl come to see about the place.” + </p> + <p> + The sisters looked at each other and smiled, while Margaret asked whence + she came, and who she was. + </p> + <p> + “Her name is Taylor, and she comes from Cocksmoor, but she is a nice, + tidy, strong-looking girl, and she says she has been used to children.” + </p> + <p> + Nurse had fallen into the trap most comfortably, and seemed bent upon + taking this girl as a choice of her own. She wished to know if Miss + Margaret would like to see her. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, nurse, but if you think she will do, that is enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss, but you should look to them things yourself. If you please, + I’ll bring her up.” So nurse departed. + </p> + <p> + “Charming!” cried Ethel, “that’s your capital management, Flora; nurse + thinks she has done it all herself.” + </p> + <p> + “She is your charge though,” said Flora, “coming from your own beloved + Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy Taylor came in, looking very nice, and very shy, curtseying low, in + extreme awe of the pale lady in bed. Margaret was much pleased with her, + and there was no more to be done but to settle that she should come on + Saturday, and to let nurse take her into the town to invest her with the + universal blackness of the household, where the two Margarets were the + only white things. + </p> + <p> + This arranged, and the walking party set forth, Ethel sat down by her + sister’s bed, and began to assist in unpicking the merino, telling + Margaret how much obliged she was to her for thinking of it, and how + grieved at having been so ungrateful in the morning. She was very happy + over her contrivances, cutting out under her sister’s superintendence. She + had forgotten the morning’s annoyance, till Margaret said, “I have been + thinking of what you said about Miss Winter, and really I don’t know what + is to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret, I did not mean to worry you,” said Ethel, sorry to see her + look uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “I like you to tell me everything, dear Ethel; but I don’t see clearly the + best course. We must go on with Miss Winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Ethel, shocked at her murmurs having even suggested the + possibility of a change, and having, as well as all the others, a great + respect and affection for her governess. + </p> + <p> + “We could not get on without her even if I were well,” continued Margaret; + “and dear mamma had such perfect trust in her, and we all know and love + her so well—it would make us put up with a great deal.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all my own fault,” said Ethel, only anxious to make amends to Miss + Winter. “I wish you would not say anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it does seem wrong even to think of it,” said Margaret, “when she + has been so very kind. It is a blessing to have any one to whom Mary and + Blanche may so entirely be trusted. But for you—” + </p> + <p> + “It is my own fault,” repeated Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think it is quite all your own fault,” said Margaret, “and that + is the difficulty. I know dear mamma thought Miss Winter an excellent + governess for the little ones, but hardly up to you, and she saw that you + worried and fidgeted each other, so, you know, she used to keep the + teaching of you a good deal in her own hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know that was the reason,” said Ethel, overpowered by the + recollection of the happy morning’s work she had often done in that very + room, when her mother had not been equal to the bustle of the whole + school-room. That watchful, protecting, guarding, mother’s love, a shadow + of Providence, had been round them so constantly on every side, that they + had been hardly conscious of it till it was lost to them. + </p> + <p> + “Was it not like her?” said Margaret, “but now, my poor Ethel, I don’t + think it would be right by you or by Miss Winter, to take you out of the + school-room. I think it would grieve her.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not do that for the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Especially after her kind nursing of me, and even, with more reason, it + would not be becoming in us to make changes. Besides, King Etheldred,” + said Margaret, smiling, “we all know you are a little bit of a sloven, + and, as nurse says, some one must be always after you, and do you know? + even if I were well, I had rather it was Miss Winter than me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, you would not be formal and precise—you would not make me + cross.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you might make me so,” said Margaret, “or I should let you alone, + and leave you a slattern. We should both hate it so! No, don’t make me + your mistress, Ethel dear—let me be your sister and play-fellow + still, as well as I can.” + </p> + <p> + “You are, you are. I don’t care half so much when I have got you.” + </p> + <p> + “And will you try to bear with her, and remember it is right in the main, + though it is troublesome?” + </p> + <p> + “That I will. I won’t plague you again. I know it is bad for you, you look + tired.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray don’t leave off telling me,” said Margaret—“it is just what I + wish on my own account, and I know it is comfortable to have a good + grumble.” + </p> + <p> + “If it does not hurt you, but I am sure you are not easy now—are + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Only my back,” said Margaret. “I have been sitting up longer than usual, + and it is tired. Will you call nurse to lay me flat again?” + </p> + <p> + The nursery was deserted—all were out, and Ethel came back in + trepidation at the notion of having to do it herself, though she knew it + was only to put one arm to support her sister, while, with the other, she + removed the pillows; but Ethel was conscious of her own awkwardness and + want of observation, nor had Margaret entire trust in her. Still she was + too much fatigued to wait, so Ethel was obliged to do her best. She was + careful and frightened, and therefore slow and unsteady. She trusted that + all was right, and Margaret tried to believe so, though still uneasy. + </p> + <p> + Ethel began to read to her, and Dr. May came home. She looked up smiling, + and asked where he had been, but it was vain to try to keep him from + reading her face. He saw in an instant that something was amiss, and drew + from her a confession that her back was aching a little. He knew she might + have said a great deal—she was not in a comfortable position—she + must be moved. She shook her head—she had rather wait—there + was a dread of being again lifted by Ethel that she could not entirely + hide. Ethel was distressed, Dr. May was angry, and, no wonder, when he saw + Margaret suffer, felt his own inability to help, missed her who had been + wont to take all care from his hands, and was vexed to see a tall strong + girl of fifteen, with the full use of both arms, and plenty of sense, + incapable of giving any assistance, and only doing harm by trying. + </p> + <p> + “It is of no use,” said he. “Ethel will give no attention to anything but + her books! I’ve a great mind to put an end to all the Latin and Greek! She + cares for nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel could little brook injustice, and much as she was grieving, she + exclaimed, “Papa, papa, I do care—now don’t I, Margaret? I did my + best!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk nonsense. Your best, indeed! If you had taken the most + moderate care—” + </p> + <p> + “I believe Ethel took rather too much care,” said Margaret, much more + harassed by the scolding than by the pain. “It will be all right + presently. Never mind, dear papa.” + </p> + <p> + But he was not only grieved for the present, but anxious for the future; + and, though he knew it was bad for Margaret to manifest his displeasure, + he could not restrain it, and continued to blame Ethel with enough of + injustice to set her on vindication, whereupon he silenced her, by telling + her she was making it worse by self-justification when Margaret ought to + be quiet. Margaret tried to talk of other things, but was in too much + discomfort to exert herself enough to divert his attention. + </p> + <p> + At last Flora returned, and saw in an instant what was wanted. Margaret + was settled in the right posture, but the pain would not immediately + depart, and Dr. May soon found out that she had a headache, of which he + knew he was at least as guilty as Etheldred could be. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could be done but keep her quiet, and Ethel went away to be + miserable; Flora tried to comfort her by saying it was unfortunate, but no + doubt there was a knack, and everyone could not manage those things; + Margaret was easier now, and as to papa’s anger, he did not always mean + all he said. + </p> + <p> + But consolation came at bedtime; Margaret received her with open arms when + she went to wish her goodnight. “My poor Ethel,” she said, holding her + close, “I am sorry I have made such a fuss.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you did not, it was too bad of me—I am grieved; are you quite + comfortable now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, quite, only a little headache, which I shall sleep off. It has been + so nice and quiet. Papa took up George Herbert, and has been reading me + choice bits. I don’t think I have enjoyed anything so much since I have + been ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that, but I have been unhappy all the evening. I wish I knew + what to do. I am out of heart about everything!” + </p> + <p> + “Only try to mind and heed, and you will learn. It will be a step if you + will only put your shoes side by side when you take them off.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel smiled and sighed, and Margaret whispered, “Don’t grieve about me, + but put your clever head to rule your hands, and you will do for home and + Cocksmoor too. Good-night, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve vexed papa,” sighed Ethel—and just then he came into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Margaret, “here’s poor Ethel, not half recovered from her + troubles.” + </p> + <p> + He was now at ease about Margaret, and knew he had been harsh to another + of his motherless girls. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! we must send her to the infant-school, to learn ‘this is my right + hand, and this is my left,’” said he, in his half-gay, half-sad manner. + </p> + <p> + “I was very stupid,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” said her papa, “she is worse off than I am. If I have but + one hand left, she has two left hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I do mean to try, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you must, Ethel. I believe I was hasty with you, my poor girl. I was + vexed, and we have no one to smooth us down. I am sorry, my dear, but you + must bear with me, for I never learned her ways with you when I might. We + will try to have more patience with each other.” + </p> + <p> + What could Ethel do but hang round his neck and cry, till he said, but + tenderly, that they had given Margaret quite disturbance enough to-day, + and sent her to bed, vowing to watch each little action, lest she should + again give pain to such a father and sister. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Tis not enough that Greek or Roman page + At stated hours, his freakish thoughts engage, + Even in his pastimes he requires a friend + To warn and teach him safely to unbend, + O’er all his pleasures gently to preside, + Watch his emotions, and control their tide.”—COWPER. +</pre> + <p> + The misfortunes of that day disheartened and disconcerted Etheldred. To do + mischief where she most wished to do good, to grieve where she longed to + comfort, seemed to be her fate; it was vain to attempt anything for + anyone’s good, while all her warm feelings and high aspirations were + thwarted by the awkward ungainly hands and heedless eyes that Nature had + given her. Nor did the following day, Saturday, do much for her comfort, + by giving her the company of her brothers. That it was Norman’s sixteenth + birthday seemed only to make it worse. Their father had apparently + forgotten it, and Norman stopped Blanche when she was going to put him in + mind of it; stopped her by such a look as the child never forgot, though + there was no anger in it. In reply to Ethel’s inquiry what he was going to + do that morning, he gave a yawn and stretch, and said, dejectedly, that he + had got some Euripides to look over, and some verses to finish. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry; this is the first time you ever have not managed so as to + make a real holiday of your Saturday!” + </p> + <p> + “I could not help it, and there’s nothing to do,” said Norman wearily. + </p> + <p> + “I promised to go and read to Margaret while Flora does her music,” said + Ethel; “I shall come after that and do my Latin and Greek with you.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret would not keep her long, saying she liked her to be with Norman, + but she found him with his head sunk on his open book, fast asleep. At + dinner-time, Harry and Tom, rushing in, awoke him with a violent start. + </p> + <p> + “Halloo! Norman, that was a jump!” said Harry, as his brother stretched + and pinched himself. “You’ll jump out of your skin some of these days, if + you don’t take care!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s enough to startle any one to be waked up with such a noise,” said + Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Then he ought to sleep at proper times,” said Harry, “and not be waking + me up with tumbling about, and hallooing out, and talking in his sleep + half the night.” + </p> + <p> + “Talking in his sleep! why, just now, you said he did not sleep,” said + Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Harry knows nothing about it,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t I? Well, I only know, if you slept in school, and were a junior, + you would get a proper good licking for going on as you do at night.” + </p> + <p> + “And I think you might chance to get a proper good licking for not holding + your tongue,” said Norman, which hint reduced Harry to silence. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May was not come home; he had gone with Richard far into the country, + and was to return to tea. He was thought to be desirous of avoiding the + family dinners that used to be so delightful. Harry was impatient to + depart, and when Mary and Tom ran after him, he ordered them back. + </p> + <p> + “Where can he be going?” said Mary, as she looked wistfully after him. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Where? Do tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Only don’t tell papa. I went down with him to the playground this + morning, and there they settled it. The Andersons, and Axworthy, and he, + are going to hire a gun, and shoot pee-wits on Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + “But they ought not; should they?” said Mary. “Papa would be very angry.” + </p> + <p> + “Anderson said there was no harm in it, but Harry told me not to tell. + Indeed, Anderson would have boxed my ears for hearing, when I could not + help it.” + </p> + <p> + “But Harry would not let him?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay. Harry is quite a match for Harvey Anderson, though he is so much + younger; and he said he would not have me bullied.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a good Harry! But I wish he would not go out shooting!” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Mind, you don’t tell.” + </p> + <p> + “And where’s Hector Ernescliffe? Would not he go?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I like Hector. He did not choose to go, though Anderson teased him, + and said he was a poor Scot, and his brother didn’t allow him tin enough + to buy powder and shot. If Harry would have stayed at home, he would have + come up here, and we might have had some fun in the garden.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he would. We never have any fun now,” said Mary; “but oh! there he + is,” as she spied Hector peeping over the gate which led from the field + into the garden. It was the first time that he had been to Dr. May’s since + his brother’s departure, and he was rather shy, but the joyful welcome of + Mary and Tom took off all reluctance, and they claimed him for a good game + at play in the wood-house. Mary ran upstairs to beg to be excused the + formal walk, and, luckily for her, Miss Winter was in Margaret’s room. + Margaret asked if it was very wet and dirty, and hearing “not very,” gave + gracious permission, and off went Mary and Blanche to construct some + curious specimens of pottery, under the superintendence of Hector and Tom. + There was a certain ditch where yellow mud was attainable, whereof the + happy children concocted marbles and vases, which underwent a preparatory + baking in the boys’ pockets, that they might not crack in the nursery + fire. Margaret only stipulated that her sisters should be well fenced in + brown holland, and when Miss Winter looked grave, said, “Poor things, a + little thorough play will do them a great deal of good.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Winter could not see the good of groping in the dirt; and Margaret + perceived that it would be one of her difficulties to know how to follow + out her mother’s views for the children, without vexing the good governess + by not deferring to her. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Norman had disconsolately returned to his Euripides, and + Ethel, who wanted to stay with him and look out his words, was ordered out + by Miss Winter, because she had spent all yesterday indoors. Miss Winter + was going to stay with Margaret, and Ethel and Flora coaxed Norman to come + with them, “just one mile on the turnpike road and back again; he would be + much fresher for his Greek afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + He came, but he did not enliven his sisters. The three plodded on, taking + a diligent constitutional walk, exchanging very few words, and those + chiefly between the girls. Flora gathered some hoary clematis, and red + berries, and sought in the hedge-sides for some crimson “fairy baths” to + carry home; and, at the sight of the amusement Margaret derived from the + placing the beauteous little Pezizas in a saucer of damp green moss, so as + to hide the brown sticks on which they grew, Ethel took shame to herself + for want of perception of little attentions. When she told Norman so, he + answered, “There’s no one who does see what is the right thing. How horrid + the room looks! Everything is nohow!” added he, looking round at the + ornaments and things on the tables, which had lost their air of comfort + and good taste. It was not disorder, and Ethel could not see what he + meant. “What’s wrong?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind—you can’t do it. Don’t try—you’ll only make it + worse. It will never be the same as long as we live.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would not be so unhappy!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” again said Norman, but he put his arm round her. + </p> + <p> + “Have you done your Euripides? Can I help you? Will you construe it with + me, or shall I look out your words?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, I don’t mind that. It is the verses! I want some sense!” said + Norman, running his fingers through his hair till it stood on end. “‘Tis + such a horrid subject, Coral Islands! As if there was anything to be said + about them.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, Norman, I could say ten thousand things, only I must not tell + you what mine are, as yours are not done.” + </p> + <p> + “No, don’t,” said Norman decidedly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you read the description of them in the Quarterly? I am sure you + might get some ideas there. Shall I find it for you? It is in an old + number.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do; thank you.” + </p> + <p> + He rested listlessly on the sofa while his sister rummaged in a + chiffonier. At last she found the article, and eagerly read him the + description of the strange forms of the coral animals, and the beauties of + their flower-like feelers and branching fabrics. It would once have + delighted him, but his first comment was, “Nasty little brutes!” However, + the next minute he thanked her, took the book, and said he could hammer + something out of it, though it was too bad to give such an unclassical + subject. At dusk he left off, saying he should get it done at night, his + senses would come then, and he should be glad to sit up. + </p> + <p> + “Only three weeks to the holidays,” said Ethel, trying to be cheerful; but + his assent was depressing, and she began to fear that Christmas would only + make them more sad. + </p> + <p> + Mary did not keep Tom’s secret so inviolably, but that, while they were + dressing for tea, she revealed to Ethel where Harry was gone. He was not + yet returned, though his father and Richard were come in, and the sisters + were at once in some anxiety on his account, and doubt whether they ought + to let papa know of his disobedience. + </p> + <p> + Flora and Ethel, who were the first in the drawing-room, had a + consultation. + </p> + <p> + “I should have told mamma directly,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “He never did so,” sighed Ethel; “things never went wrong then.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, they did; don’t you remember how naughty Harry was about + climbing the wall, and making faces at Mrs. Richardson’s servants?” + </p> + <p> + “And how ill I behaved the first day of last Christmas holidays?” + </p> + <p> + “She knew, but I don’t think she told papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Not that we knew of, but I believe she did tell him everything, and I + think, Flora, he ought to know everything, especially now. I never could + bear the way the Mackenzies used to have of thinking their parents must be + like enemies, and keeping secrets from them.” + </p> + <p> + “They were always threatening each other, ‘I’ll tell mamma,’” said Flora, + “and calling us tell-tales because we told our own dear mamma everything. + But it is not like that now—I neither like to worry papa, nor to + bring Harry into disgrace—besides, Tom and Mary meant it for a + secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa would not be angry with him if we told him it was a secret,” said + Ethel; “I wish Harry would come in. There’s the door—oh! it is only + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom did you expect?” said Richard, entering. + </p> + <p> + The sisters looked at each other, and Ethel, after an interval, explained + their doubts about Harry. + </p> + <p> + “He is come in,” said Richard; “I saw him running up to his own room, very + muddy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m glad! But do you think papa ought to hear it? I don’t know what’s + to be done. ‘Tis the children’s secret,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “It will never do to have him going out with those boys continually,” said + Ethel—“Harvey Anderson close by all the holidays!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll try what I can do with him,” said Richard. “Papa had better not hear + it now, at any rate. He is very tired and sad this evening! and his arm is + painful again, so we must not worry him with histories of naughtiness + among the children.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ethel decidedly, “I am glad you were there, Ritchie; I never + should have thought of one time being better than another.” + </p> + <p> + “Just like Ethel!” said Flora, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Why should not you learn?” said Richard gently. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t,” said Ethel, in a desponding way. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? You are much sharper than most people, and, if you tried, you + would know those things much better than I do, as you know how to learn + history.” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite a different sort of cleverness,” said Flora. “Recollect Sir + Isaac Newton, or Archimedes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you must have both sorts,” said Ethel, “for you can do things + nicely, and yet you learn very fast.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Ethel, you are singeing your frock! Well, I really don’t think + you can help those things!” said Flora. “Your short sight is the reason of + it, and it is of no use to try to mend it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tell her so,” said Richard. “It can’t be all short sight—it + is the not thinking. I do believe that if Ethel would think, no one would + do things so well. Don’t you remember the beautiful perspective drawing + she made of this room for me to take to Oxford? That was very difficult, + and wanted a great deal of neatness and accuracy, so why should she not be + neat and accurate in other things? And I know you can read faces, Ethel—why + don’t you look there before you speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! before instead of after, when I only see I have said something + malapropos,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I must go and see about the children,” said Flora; “if the tea comes + while I am gone, will you make it, Ritchie?” + </p> + <p> + “Flora despairs of me,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t,” said Richard. “Have you forgotten how to put in a pin yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I hope not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, see if you can’t learn to make tea; and, by-the-bye, Ethel, + which is the next christening Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + “The one after next, surely. The first of December is Monday—yes, + to-morrow week is the next.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I have thought of something; it would cost eighteenpence to hire + Joliffe’s spring-cart, and we might have Mrs. Taylor and the twins brought + to church in it. Should you like to walk to Cocksmoor and settle it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, very much indeed. What a capital thought. Margaret said you would + know how to manage.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we will go the first fine day papa does not want me.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if I could finish my purple frocks. But here’s the tea. Now, + Richard, don’t tell me to make it. I should do something wrong, and Flora + will never forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + Richard would not let her off. He stood over her, counted her shovelfuls + of tea, and watched the water into the teapot—he superintended her + warming the cups, and putting a drop into each saucer. “Ah!” said Ethel, + with a concluding sigh, “it makes one hotter than double equations!” + </p> + <p> + It was all right, as Flora allowed with a slightly superior smile. She + thought Richard would never succeed in making a notable or elegant woman + of Ethel, and it was best that the two sisters should take different + lines. Flora knew that, though clever and with more accomplishments, she + could not surpass Ethel in intellectual attainments, but she was certainly + far more valuable in the house, and had been proved to have just the + qualities in which her sister was most deficient. She did not relish + hearing that Ethel wanted nothing but attention to be more than her equal, + and she thought Richard mistaken. Flora’s remembrance of their time of + distress was less unmixedly wretched than it was with the others, for she + knew she had done wonders. + </p> + <p> + The next day Norman told Ethel that he had got on very well with the + verses, and finished them off late at night. He showed them to her before + taking them to school on Monday morning, and Ethel thought they were the + best he had ever written. There was too much spirit and poetical beauty + for a mere schoolboy task, and she begged for the foul copy to show it to + her father. “I have not got it,” said Norman. “The foul copy was not like + these; but when I was writing them out quite late, it was all I don’t know + how. Flora’s music was in my ears, and the room seemed to get larger, and + like an ocean cave; and when the candle flickered, ‘twas like the green + glowing light of the sun through the waves.” + </p> + <p> + “As it says here,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “And the words all came to me of themselves in beautiful flowing Latin, + just right, as if it was anybody but myself doing it, and they ran off my + pen in red and blue and gold, and all sorts of colours; and fine branching + zig-zagging stars, like what the book described, only stranger, came + dancing and radiating round my pen and the candle. I could hardly believe + the verses would scan by daylight, but I can’t find a mistake. Do you try + them again.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel scanned. “I see nothing wrong,” she said, “but it seems a shame to + begin scanning Undine’s verses, they are too pretty. I wish I could copy + them. It must have been half a dream.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it was; they don’t seem like my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you dream afterwards?” + </p> + <p> + He shivered. “They had got into my head too much; my ears sang like the + roaring of the sea, and I thought my feet were frozen on to an iceberg: + then came darkness, and sea monsters, and drowning—it was too + horrid!” and his face expressed all, and more than all, he said. “But ‘tis + a quarter to seven—we must go,” said he, with a long yawn, and + rubbing his eyes. “You are sure they are right, Ethel? Harry, come along.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel thought those verses ought to make a sensation, but all that came of + them was a Quam optime, and when she asked Norman if no special notice had + been taken of them, he said, in his languid way, “No; only Dr. Hoxton said + they were better than usual.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel did not even have the satisfaction of hearing that Mr. Wilmot, + happening to meet Dr. May, said to him, “Your boy has more of a poet in + him than any that has come in my way. He really sometimes makes very + striking verses.” + </p> + <p> + Richard watched for an opportunity of speaking to Harry, which did not at + once occur, as the boy spent very little of his time at home, and, as if + by tacit consent, he and Norman came in later every evening. At last, on + Thursday, in the additional two hours’ leisure allowed to the boys, when + the studious prepared their tasks, and the idle had some special + diversion, Richard encountered him running up to his own room to fetch a + newly-invented instrument for projecting stones. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll walk back to school with you,” said Richard. “I mean to run,” + returned Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Is there so much hurry?” said Richard. “I am sorry for it, for I wanted + to speak to you, Harry; I have something to show you.” + </p> + <p> + His manner conveyed that it related to their mother, and the sobering + effect was instantaneous. “Very well,” said he, forgetting his haste. + “I’ll come into your room.” + </p> + <p> + The awe-struck, shy, yet sorrowful look on his rosy face showed + preparation enough, and Richard’s only preface was to say, “It is a bit of + a letter that she was in course of writing to Aunt Flora, a description of + us all. The letter itself is gone, but here is a copy of it. I thought you + would like to read what relates to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Richard laid before him the sheet of notepaper on which this portion of + the letter was written, and left him alone with it, while he set out on + the promised walk with Ethel. + </p> + <p> + They found the old woman, Granny Hall, looking like another creature, + smoke-dried and withered indeed, but all briskness and animation. + </p> + <p> + “Well! be it you, sir, and the young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; here we are come to see you again,” said Richard. “I hope you are + not disappointed that I’ve brought my sister this time instead of the + doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, sir; I’ve done with the doctor for this while,” said the old + woman, to Ethel’s great amusement. “He have done me a power of good, and + thank him for it heartily; but the young lady is right welcome here—but + ‘tis a dirty walk for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that,” said Ethel, a little shyly, “I came—where are + your grandchildren?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, somewhere out among the blocks. They gets out with the other + children; I can’t be always after them.” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to know if these would fit them,” said Ethel, beginning to undo + her basket. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ‘pon my word! If ever I see! Here!” stepping out to the door, + “Polly—Jenny! come in, I say, this moment! Come in, ye bad girls, or + I’ll give you the stick; I’ll break every bone of you, that I will!” all + which threats were bawled out in such a good-natured, triumphant voice, + and with such a delighted air, that Richard and Ethel could not help + laughing. + </p> + <p> + After a few moments, Polly and Jenny made their appearance, extremely + rough and ragged, but compelled by their grandmother to duck down, by way + of courtesies, and, with finger in mouth, they stood, too shy to show + their delight, as the garments were unfolded; Granny talking so fast that + Ethel would never have brought in the stipulation, that the frocks should + be worn to school and church, if Richard, in his mild, but steady way, had + not brought the old woman to listen to it. She was full of asseverations + that they should go; she took them to church sometimes herself, when it + was fine weather and they had clothes, and they could say their catechiz + as well as anybody already; yes, they should come, that they should, and + next Sunday. Ethel promised to be there to introduce them to the chief + lady, the president of the Committee, Mrs. Ledwich, and, with a profusion + of thanks, they took leave. + </p> + <p> + They found John Taylor, just come out of the hospital, looking weak and + ill, as he smoked his pipe over the fire, his wife bustling about at a + great rate, and one of the infants crying. It seemed to be a great relief + that they were not come to complain of Lucy, and there were many looks of + surprise on hearing what their business really was. Mrs. Taylor thanked + them, and appeared not to know whether she was glad or sorry; and her + husband, pipe in hand, gazed at the young gentleman as if he did not + comprehend the species, since he could not be old enough to be a + clergyman. + </p> + <p> + Richard hoped they would find sponsors by that time; and there Mrs. Taylor + gave little hope; it was a bad lot—there was no one she liked to ask + to stand, she said, in a dismal voice; but there her husband put in, “I’ll + find some one if that’s all; my missus always thinks nobody can’t do + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” said the lamentable Mrs. Taylor, “all the elder ones was + took to church, and I’m loath the little ones shouldn’t; but you see, sir, + we are poor people, and it’s a long way, and they was set down in the + gentleman’s register book.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know that is not the same, Mrs. Taylor. Surely Lucy could have + told you that, when she went to school.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, ‘tis not the same—I knows that; but this is a bad place to + live in—” + </p> + <p> + “Always the old song, missus!” exclaimed her husband. “Thank you kindly, + sir—you have been a good friend to us, and so was Dr. May, when I + was up to the hospital, through the thick of his own troubles. I believe + you are in the right of it, sir, and thank you. The children shall be + ready, and little Jack too, and I’ll find gossips, and let ‘em christened + on Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you will be glad of it,” said Richard; and he went on to speak + of the elder children coming to school on Sunday, thus causing another + whining from the wife about distance and bad weather, and no one else + going that way. He said the little Halls were coming, but Mrs. Taylor + begun saying she disliked their company for the children—granny let + them get about so much, and they said bad words. The father again + interfered. Perhaps Mr. Wilmot, who acted as chaplain at the hospital, had + been talking to him, for he declared at once that they should come; and + Richard suggested that he might see them home when he came from church; + then, turning to the boy and girl, told them they would meet their sister + Lucy, and asked them if they would not like that. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, the beginning was not inauspicious, though there might be a + doubt whether old Mrs. Hall would keep all her promises. Ethel was so much + diverted and pleased as to be convinced she would; Richard was a little + doubtful as to her power over the wild girls. There could not be any doubt + that John Taylor was in earnest, and had been worked upon just at the + right moment; but there was danger that the impression would not last. + “And his wife is such a horrible whining dawdle!” said Ethel—“there + will be no good to be done if it depends on her.” + </p> + <p> + Richard made no answer, and Ethel presently felt remorseful for her harsh + speech about a poor ignorant woman, overwhelmed with poverty, children, + and weak health. + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking a great deal about what you said last time we took + this walk,” said Richard, after a considerable interval. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have you!” cried Ethel eagerly; and the black peaty pond she was + looking at seemed to sparkle with sunlight. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean it?” said Richard deliberately. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to be sure;” she said, with some indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Because I think I see a way to make a beginning, but you must make up + your mind to a great deal of trouble, and dirty walks, and you must really + learn not to draggle your frock.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well; but tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “This is what I was thinking. I don’t think I can go back to Oxford after + Christmas. It is not fit to leave you while papa is so disabled.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, he could not get on at all. I heard him tell Mr. Wilmot the other + day that you were his right hand.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was glad she had repeated this, for there was a deepening colour and + smiling glow of pleasure on her brother’s face, such as she had seldom + seen on his delicate, but somewhat impassive features. + </p> + <p> + “He is very kind!” he said warmly. “No, I am sure I cannot be spared till + he is better able to use his arm, and I don’t see any chance of that just + yet. Then if I stay at home, Friday is always at my own disposal, while + papa is at the hospital meeting.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, and we could go to Cocksmoor, and set up a school. How + delightful!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think you would find it quite so delightful as you fancy,” said + Richard; “the children will be very wild and ignorant, and you don’t like + that at the National School.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but they are in such need, besides there will be no Mrs. Ledwich over + me. It is just right—I shan’t mind anything. You are a capital + Ritchie, for having thought of it!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think—if I am ever to be what I wish, that is, if I can get + through at Oxford—I don’t think it can be wrong to begin this, if + Mr. Ramsden does not object.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Ramsden never objects to anything.” + </p> + <p> + “And if Mr. Wilmot will come and set us off. You know we cannot begin + without that, or without my father’s fully liking it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! there can be no doubt of that!” + </p> + <p> + “This one thing, Ethel, I must stipulate. Don’t you go and tell it all out + at once to him. I cannot have him worried about our concerns.” + </p> + <p> + “But how—no one can question that this is right. I am sure he won’t + object.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Ethel, don’t you see, it can’t be done for nothing? If we undertake + it, we must go on with it, and when I am away it will fall on you and + Flora. Well, then, it ought to be considered whether you are old enough + and steady enough; and if it can be managed for you to go continually all + this way, in this wild place. There will be expense too.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel looked wild with impatience, but could not gainsay these scruples, + otherwise than by declaring they ought not to weigh against the good of + Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + “It will worry him to have to consider all this,” said Richard, “and it + must not be pressed upon him.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ethel sorrowfully; “but you don’t mean to give it up.” + </p> + <p> + “You are always in extremes, Ethel. All I want is to find a good time for + proposing it.” + </p> + <p> + She fidgeted and gave a long sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Mind,” said Richard, stopping short, “I’ll have nothing to do with it + except on condition you are patient, and hold your tongue about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can, if I may talk to Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, to Margaret of course. We could not settle anything without her + help.” + </p> + <p> + “And I know what she will say,” said Ethel. “Oh, I am so glad,” and she + jumped over three puddles in succession. + </p> + <p> + “And, Ethel, you must learn to keep your frock out of the dirt.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do anything, if you’ll help me at Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For the structure that we raise, + Time is with materials filled; + Our to-days and yesterdays, + Are the blocks which we build. + + Truly shape and fashion these, + Leave no yawning gaps between; + Think not, because no man sees, + Such things will remain unseen.—LONGFELLOW. +</pre> + <p> + When Ethel came home, burning with the tidings of the newly-excited hopes + for Cocksmoor, they were at once stopped by Margaret eagerly saying, “Is + Richard come in? pray call him;” then on his entrance, “Oh, Richard, would + you be so kind as to take this to the bank. I don’t like to send it by any + one else—it is so much;” and she took from under her pillows a + velvet bag, so heavy, that it weighed down her slender white hand. + </p> + <p> + “What, he has given you the care of his money?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I saw him turning something out of his waistcoat-pocket into the + drawer of the looking-glass, and sighing in that very sad way. He said his + fees had come to such an accumulation that he must see about sending them + to the bank; and then he told me of the delight of throwing his first fee + into dear mamma’s lap, when they were just married, and his old uncle had + given up to him, and how he had brought them to her ever since; he said + she had spoiled him by taking all trouble off his hands. He looked at it, + as if it was so sorrowful to him to have to dispose of it, that I begged + him not to plague himself any more, but let me see about it, as dear mamma + used to do; so he said I was spoiling him too, but he brought me the + drawer, and emptied it out here: when he was gone, I packed it up, and I + have been waiting to ask Richard to take it all to the bank, out of his + sight.” + </p> + <p> + “You counted it?” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—there’s fifty—I kept seventeen towards the week’s + expenses. Just see that it is right,” said Margaret, showing her neat + packets. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ritchie,” said Ethel, “what can expense signify, when all that has + been kicking about loose in an open drawer? What would not one of those + rolls do?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I had better take them out of your way,” said Richard quietly. + “Am I to bring back the book to you, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do,” said Margaret; “pray do not tease him with it.” And as her + brother left the room, she continued, “I wish he was better. I think he is + more oppressed now than even at first. The pain of his arm, going on so + long, seems to me to have pulled him down; it does not let him sleep, and, + by the end of the day, he gets worn and fagged by seeing so many people, + and exerting himself to talk and think; and often, when there is something + that must be asked, I don’t know how to begin, for it seems as if a little + more would be too much for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Richard is right,” said Ethel mournfully; “it will not do to press + him about our concerns; but do you think him worse to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “He did not sleep last night, and he is always worse when he does not + drive out into the country; the fresh air, and being alone with Richard, + are a rest for him. To-day is especially trying; he does not think poor + old Mr. Southern will get through the evening, and he is so sorry for the + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he there now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he thought of something that might be an alleviation, and he would + go, though he was tired. I am afraid the poor daughter will detain him, + and he is not fit to go through such things now.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I hope he will soon come; perhaps Richard will meet him. But, oh, + Margaret, what do you think Richard and I have been talking of?” and, + without perception of fit times and seasons, Ethel would have told her + story, but Margaret, too anxious to attend to her, said, “Hark! was not + that his step?” and Dr. May came in, looking mournful and fatigued. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “I was just too late. He died as I got there, and I could + not leave the daughter till old Mrs. Bowers came.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing,” said Margaret. “He was a good old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dr. May, sitting wearily down, and speaking in a worn-out + voice. “One can’t lightly part with a man one has seen at church every + Sunday of one’s life, and exchanged so many friendly words with over his + counter. ‘Tis a strong bond of neighbourliness in a small place like this, + and, as one grows old, changes come heavier—‘the clouds return again + after the rain.’ Thank you, my dear,” as Ethel fetched his slippers, and + placed a stool for his feet, feeling somewhat ashamed of thinking it an + achievement to have, unbidden, performed a small act of attention which + would have come naturally from any of the others. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, you will give me the treat of drinking tea with me?” said Margaret, + who saw the quiet of her room would suit him better than the bustle of the + children downstairs. “Thank you,” as he gave a smile of assent. + </p> + <p> + That Margaret could not be made to listen this evening was plain, and all + that Ethel could do, was to search for some books on schools. In seeking + for them, she displayed such confusion in the chiffonier, that Flora + exclaimed, “Oh, Ethel, how could you leave it so?” + </p> + <p> + “I was in a hurry, looking for something for Norman. I’ll set it to + rights,” said Ethel, gulping down her dislike of being reproved by Flora, + with the thought that mamma would have said the same. + </p> + <p> + “My dear!” cried Flora presently, jumping up, “what are you doing? piling + up those heavy books on the top of the little ones; how do you think they + will ever stand? let me do it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Flora;” and Richard, in a low voice, gave Ethel some advice, + which she received, seated on the floor, in a mood between temper and + despair. + </p> + <p> + “He is going to teach her to do it on the principles of gravitation,” said + Flora. + </p> + <p> + Richard did not do it himself, but, by his means, Ethel, without being in + the least irritated, gave the chiffonier a thorough dusting and + setting-to-rights, sorting magazines, burning old catalogues, and finding + her own long-lost ‘Undine’, at which she was so delighted that she would + have forgotten all; in proceeding to read it, curled up on the floor + amongst the heaps of pamphlets, if another gentle hint from Richard had + not made her finish her task so well, as to make Flora declare it was a + pleasure to look in, and Harry pronounce it to be all neat and ship-shape. + </p> + <p> + There was no speaking to Margaret the next morning—it was French day—and + Ethel had made strong resolutions to behave better; and whether there were + fewer idioms, or that she was trying to understand, instead of carping at + the master’s explanations, they came to no battle; Flora led the + conversation, and she sustained her part with credit, and gained an + excellent mark. + </p> + <p> + Flora said afterwards to Margaret, “I managed nicely for her. I would not + let M. Ballompre blunder upon any of the subjects Ethel feels too deeply + to talk of in good French, and really Ethel has a great talent for + languages. How fast she gets on with Italian!” + </p> + <p> + “That she does,” said Margaret. “Suppose you send her up, Flora—you + must want to go and draw or practice, and she may do her arithmetic here, + or read to me.” + </p> + <p> + It was the second time Margaret had made this proposal, and it did not + please Flora, who had learned to think herself necessary to her sister, + and liked to be the one to do everything for her. She was within six weeks + of seventeen, and surely she need not be sent down again to the + school-room, when she had been so good a manager of the whole family. She + was fond of study and of accomplishments, but she thought she might be + emancipated from Miss Winter; and it was not pleasant to her that a + sister, only eighteen months older, and almost dependant on her, should + have authority to dispose of her time. + </p> + <p> + “I practise in the evening,” she said, “and I could draw here, if I + wished, but I have some music to copy.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was concerned at the dissatisfaction, though not understanding + the whole of it: “You know, dear Flora,” she said, “I need not take up all + your time now.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t regret that,” said Flora. “I like nothing so well as waiting on + you, and I can attend to my own affairs very well here.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you why I proposed it,” said Margaret. “I think it would be a + relief for Ethel to escape from Miss Winter’s beloved Friday questions.” + </p> + <p> + “Great nonsense they are,” said Flora. “Why don’t you tell Miss Winter + they are of no use?” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma never interfered with them,” said Margaret. “She only kept Ethel in + her own hands, and if you would be so kind as to change sometimes and sit + in the school-room, we could spare Ethel, without hurting Miss Winter’s + feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll call Ethel, if you like, but I shall go and practise in the + drawing-room. The old school-room piano is fit for nothing but Mary to + hammer upon.” + </p> + <p> + Flora went away, evidently annoyed, and Margaret’s conjectures on the + cause of it were cut short by Ethel running in with a slate in one hand + and two books in the other, the rest having all tumbled down on the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret, I am so glad to come to you. Miss Winter has set Mary to + read ‘To be, or not to be,’ and it would have driven me distracted to have + stayed there. I have got a most beautiful sum in Compound Proportion, + about a lion, a wolf, and a bear eating up a carcase, and as soon as they + have done it, you shall hear me say my ancient geography, and then we will + do a nice bit of Tasso; and if we have any time after that, I have got + such a thing to tell you—only I must not tell you now, or I shall go + on talking and not finish my lessons.” + </p> + <p> + It was not till all were done, that Ethel felt free to exclaim, “Now for + what I have been longing to tell you—Richard is going to—” But + the fates were unpropitious. Aubrey trotted in, expecting to be amused; + next came Norman, and Ethel gave up in despair; and, after having + affronted Flora in the morning, Margaret was afraid of renewing the + offence, by attempting to secure Ethel as her companion for the afternoon; + so not till after the walk could Margaret contrive to claim the promised + communication, telling Ethel to come and settle herself cosily by her. + </p> + <p> + “I should have been very glad of you last evening,” said she, “for papa + went to sleep, and my book was out of reach.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am sorry; how I pity you, poor Margaret!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I have grown lazy,” said Margaret, “for I don’t mind those + things now. I am never sorry for a quiet time to recollect and consider.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be like the waiting in the dark between the slides of a magic + lantern,” said Ethel; “I never like to be quiet. I get so unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of resting and recollecting,” said Margaret. “It has all been + so like a dream, that merry morning, and then, slowly waking to find + myself here in dear mamma’s place, and papa watching over me. Sometimes I + think I have not half understood what it really is, and that I don’t + realise, that if I was up and about, I should find the house without her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that is the aching part!” said Ethel. “I am happy, sitting on her + bed here with you. You are a little of her, besides being my own dear + Peg-top! You are very lucky to miss the mealtimes and the evenings.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the reason I don’t feel it wrong to like to have papa sitting + with me all the evening,” said Margaret, “though it may make it worse for + you to have him away. I don’t think it selfish in me to keep him. He wants + quiet so much, or to talk a little when it suits him; we are too many now, + when he is tired.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is best,” said Ethel. “Nothing that you do is selfish—don’t + talk of it, dear Margaret. It will be something like old times when you + come down again.” + </p> + <p> + “But all this time you are not telling me what I want so much to hear,” + said Margaret, “about Cocksmoor. I am so glad Richard has taken it up.” + </p> + <p> + “That he has. We are to go every Friday, and hire a room, and teach the + children. Once a week will do a great deal, if we can but make them wish + to learn. It is a much better plan than mine; for if they care about it, + they can come to school here on Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “It is excellent,” said Margaret, “and if he is at home till Easter, it + will give it a start, and put you in the way of it, and get you through + the short days and dark evenings, when you could not so well walk home + without him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and then we can all teach; Flora, and Mary, and you, when you are + well again. Richard says it will be disagreeable, but I don’t think so—they + are such unsophisticated people. That Granny Hall is such a funny old + woman; and the whole place wants nothing but a little care, to do very + well.” + </p> + <p> + “You must prepare for disappointments, dear Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “I know; I know nothing is done without drawbacks; but I am so glad to + make some beginning.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I. Do you know, mamma and I were one day talking over those kind of + things, and she said she had always regretted that she had so many duties + at home, that she could not attend as much to the poor as she would like; + but she hoped now we girls were growing up, we should be able to do more. + </p> + <p> + “Did she?” was all Ethel said, but she was deeply gratified. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been wanting to tell you. I knew you would like to hear it. It seems + to set us to work so happily.” + </p> + <p> + “I only wish we could begin,” said Ethel, “but Richard is so slow! Of + course we can’t act without papa’s consent and Mr. Wilmot’s help, and he + says papa must not be worried about it, he must watch for his own time to + speak about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “I know—I would not have it otherwise; but what is tiresome is this. + Richard is very good, but he is so dreadfully hard to stir up, and what’s + worse, so very much afraid of papa, that while he is thinking about + opportunities, they will all go by, and then it will be Easter, and + nothing done!” + </p> + <p> + “He is not so much afraid of papa as he was,” said Margaret. “He has felt + himself useful and a comfort, and papa is gentler; and that has cheered + him out of the desponding way that kept him back from proposing anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Ethel; “but I wish it was you. Can’t you? you always know + how to manage.” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is Richard’s affair, and he must do as he thinks fit. Don’t sigh, + dear Ethel—perhaps he may soon speak, and, if not, you can be + preparing in a quiet way all the time. Don’t you remember how dear mamma + used to tell us that things, hastily begun, never turn out well?” + </p> + <p> + “But this is not hasty. I’ve been thinking about it these six weeks,” said + Ethel. “If one does nothing but think, it is all no better than a vision. + I want to be doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can be doing—laying a sound foundation,” said Margaret. + “The more you consider, and the wiser you make yourself, the better it + will be when you do set to work.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean by curing myself of my slovenly ways and impatient temper?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that I was exactly thinking of that,” said Margaret, “but + that ought to be the way. If we are not just the thing in our niche at + home, I don’t think we can do much real good elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be hollow, show-goodness,” said Ethel. “Yes, that is true; and + it comes across me now, and then what a horrid wretch I am, to be wanting + to undertake so much, when I leave so much undone. But, do you know, + Margaret, there’s no one such a help in those ways as Richard. Though he + is so precise, he is never tiresome. He makes me see things, and do them + neatly, without plaguing me, and putting me in a rage. I’m not ready to + bite off my own fingers, or kick all the rattle-traps over and leave them, + as I am when Miss Winter scolds me, or nurse, or even Flora sometimes; but + it is as if I was gratifying him, and his funny little old bachelor + tidyisms divert me; besides, he teaches me the theory, and never lays hold + of my poor fingers, and, when they won’t bend the wrong way, calls them + frogs.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a capital master for you,” said Margaret, much amused and pleased, + for Richard was her especial darling, and she triumphed in any eulogy from + those who ordinarily were too apt to regard his dullness with superior + compassion. + </p> + <p> + “If he would only read our books, and enter into poetry and delight in it; + but it is all nonsense to him,” said Ethel. “I can’t think how people can + be so different; but, oh! here he comes. Ritchie, you should not come upon + us before we are aware.” + </p> + <p> + “What? I should have heard no good of myself?” + </p> + <p> + “Great good,” said Margaret—“she was telling me you would make a + neat-handed woman of her in time.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see why she should not be as neat as other people,” said Richard + gravely. “Has she been telling you our plan?” + </p> + <p> + And it was again happily discussed; Ethel, satisfied by finding him fully + set upon the design, and Margaret giving cordial sympathy and counsel. + When Ethel was called away, Margaret said, “I am so glad you have taken it + up, not only for the sake of Cocksmoor, but of Ethel. It is good for her + not to spend her high soul in dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid she does not know what she undertakes,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “She does not; but you will keep her from being turned back. It is just + the thing to prevent her energies from running to waste, and her being so + much with you, and working under you, is exactly what one would have + chosen.” + </p> + <p> + “By contraries!” said Richard, smiling. “That is what I was afraid of. I + don’t half understand or follow her, and when I think a thing nonsense, I + see you all calling it very fine, and I don’t know what to make of it—” + </p> + <p> + “You are making yourself out more dull than you are,” said Margaret + affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “I know I am stupid, and seem tame and cold,” said Richard, “and you are + the only one that does not care about it. That is what makes me wish + Norman was the eldest. If I were as clever as he, I could do so much with + Ethel, and be so much more to papa.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you would not. You would have other things in your head. You would + not be the dear, dear old Ritchie that you are. You would not be a calm, + cautious, steady balance to the quicksilver heads some of us have got. No, + no, Norman’s a very fine fellow, a very dear fellow, but he would not do + half so well for our eldest—he is too easily up, and down again.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am getting into my old way of repining,” said Richard. “I don’t + mind so much, since my father has at least one son to be proud of, and I + can be of some use to him now.” + </p> + <p> + “Of the greatest, and to all of us. I am so glad you can stay after + Christmas, and papa was pleased at your offering, and said he could not + spare you at all, though he would have tried, if it had been any real + advantage to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope he will approve. I must speak to him as soon as I can find + him with his mind tolerably disengaged.” + </p> + <p> + The scene that ensued that evening in the magic lantern before Margaret’s + bed, did not promise much for the freedom of her father’s mind. Harry + entered with a resolute manner. “Margaret, I wanted to speak to you,” said + he, spreading himself out, with an elbow on each arm of the chair. “I want + you to speak to papa about my going to sea. It is high time to see about + it—I shall be thirteen on the fourth of May.” + </p> + <p> + “And you mean it seriously, Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course I do, really and truly; and if it is to come to pass, it + is time to take measures. Don’t you see, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “It is time, as you say,” answered Margaret reflectingly, and sadly + surveying the bright boy, rosy cheeked, round faced, and blue eyed, with + the childish gladsomeness of countenance, that made it strange that his + lot in life should be already in the balance. + </p> + <p> + “I know what you will all tell me, that it is a hard life, but I must get + my own living some way or other, and I should like that way the best,” + said he earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Should you like to be always far from home?” + </p> + <p> + “I should come home sometimes, and bring such presents to Mary, and baby, + and all of you; and I don’t know what else to be, Margaret. I should hate + to be a doctor—I can’t abide sick people; and I couldn’t write + sermons, so I can’t be a clergyman; and I won’t be a lawyer, I vow, for + Harvey Anderson is to be a lawyer—so there’s nothing left but + soldiers and sailors, and I mean to be a sailor!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Harry, you may do your duty, and try to do right, if you are a + sailor, and that is the point.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I was sure you would not set your face against it, now you know Alan + Ernescliffe.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were to be like him—” Margaret found herself blushing, and + broke off. + </p> + <p> + “Then you will ask papa about it?” + </p> + <p> + “You had better do so yourself. Boys had better settle such serious + affairs with their fathers, without setting their sisters to interfere. + What’s the matter, Harry—you are not afraid to speak to papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Only for one thing,” said Harry. “Margaret, I went out to shoot pee-wits + last Saturday with two fellows, and I can’t speak to papa while that’s on + my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you had better tell him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew you would say so; but it would be like a girl, and it would be + telling of the two fellows.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all; papa would not care about them.” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Harry, twisting a little, “I knew I ought not; but they + said I was afraid of a gun, and that I had no money. Now I see that was + chaff, but I didn’t then, and Norman wasn’t there.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad you have told me all this, Harry dear, for I knew you had + been less at home of late, and I was almost afraid you were not going on + quite well.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what it is,” said Harry. “I can’t stand things at all, and I can’t + go moping about as Norman does. I can’t live without fun, and now Norman + isn’t here, half the time it turns to something I am sorry for + afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Harry, if you let yourself be drawn into mischief here for want of + Norman, what would you do at sea?” + </p> + <p> + “I should be an officer!” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” said Margaret, smiling, “that would not make much + difference inside, though it might outside. You must get the self-control, + and leave off being afraid to be said to be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Harry fidgeted. “I should start fresh, and be out of the way of the + Andersons,” he said. “That Anderson junior is a horrid fellow—he + spites Norman, and he bullied me, till I was big enough to show him that + it would not do—and though I am so much younger, he is afraid of me. + He makes up to me, and tries to get me into all the mischief that is + going.” + </p> + <p> + “And you know that, and let him lead you? Oh, Harry!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t let him lead me,” said Harry indignantly, “but I won’t have them + say I can’t do things.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret laughed, and Harry presently perceived what she meant, but + instead of answering, he began to boast, “There never was a May in + disgrace yet, and there never shall be.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a thing to be very thankful for,” said Margaret, “but you know + there may be much harm without public disgrace. I never heard of one of + the Andersons being in disgrace yet.” + </p> + <p> + “No—shabby fellows, that just manage to keep fair with old Hoxton, + and make a show,” said Harry. “They look at translations, and copy old + stock verses. Oh, it was such fun the other day. What do you think? Norman + must have been dreaming, for he had taken to school, by mistake, Richard’s + old Gradus that Ethel uses, and there were ever so many rough copies of + hers sticking in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Ethel! What consternation she would be in! I hope no one found it + out.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Anderson junior was gaping about in despair for sense for his verses—he + comes on that, and slyly copies a whole set of her old ones, done when she—Norman, + I mean—was in the fifth form. His subject was a river, and hers + Babylon; but, altering a line or two, it did just as well. He never + guessed I saw him, and thought he had done it famously. He showed them up, + and would have got some noted good mark, but that, by great good luck, + Ethel had made two of her pentameters too short, which he hadn’t the wit + to find out, thinking all Norman did must be right. So he has shown up a + girl’s verses—isn’t that rare?” cried Harry, dancing on his chair + with triumph. + </p> + <p> + “I hope no one knows they were hers?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, no!” said Harry, who regarded Ethel’s attainments as something + contraband. “D’ye think I could tell? No, that’s the only pity, that he + can’t hear it; but, after all, I don’t care for anything he does, now I + know he has shown up a girl’s verses.” + </p> + <p> + “Are these verses of poor Ethel’s safe at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I took care of that. Mind you don’t tell anyone, Margaret; I never + told even Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “But all your school-fellows aren’t like these? You have Hector + Ernescliffe.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s a nice fellow enough, but he is little, and down in the school. + ‘Twould be making a fourth form of myself to be after him. The fact is, + Margaret, they are a low, ungentlemanly lot just now, about sixth and + upper fifth form,” said Harry, lowering his voice into an anxious + confidential tone; “and since Norman has been less amongst them, they’ve + got worse; and you see, now home is different, and he isn’t like what he + was, I’m thrown on them, and I want to get out of it. I didn’t know that + was it before, but Richard showed me what set me on thinking of it, and I + see she knew all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “That she did! There is a great deal in what you say, Harry, but you know + she thought nothing would be of real use but changing within. If you don’t + get a root of strength in yourself, your ship will be no better to you + than school—there will be idle midshipmen as well as idle + school-boys.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” said Harry; “but do you think papa will consent? She would + not have minded.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell. I should think he would; but if any scheme is to come to + good, it must begin by your telling him of the going out shooting.” + </p> + <p> + Harry sighed. “I’d have done it long ago if she was here,” he said. “I + never did anything so bad before without telling, and I don’t like it at + all. It seems to come between him and me when I wish him good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Harry, pray do tell him. You’ll have no comfort if you don’t.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I shan’t; but then he’ll be so angry! And, do you know, Margaret, + ‘twas worse than I told you, for a covey of partridges got up, and + unluckily I had got the gun, and I fired and killed one, and that was + regular poaching, you know! And when we heard some one coming, how we did + cut! Ax—the other fellow, I mean, got it, and cooked it in his + bedroom, and ate it for supper; and he laughs about it, but I have felt so + horrid all the week! Suppose a keeper had got a summons!” + </p> + <p> + “I can only say again, the only peace will be in telling.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but he will be so angry. When that lot of fellows a year or two ago + did something like it, and shot some of the Abbotstoke rabbits, don’t you + remember how much he said about its being disgraceful, and ordering us + never to have anything to do with their gunnery? And he will think it so + very bad to have gone out on a lark just now! Oh, I wish I hadn’t done + it.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I, indeed, Harry! but I am sure, even it he should be angry at + first, he will be pleased with your confessing.” + </p> + <p> + Harry looked very reluctant and disconsolate, and his sister did not + wonder for Dr. May’s way of hearing of a fault was never to be calculated + on. “Come, Harry,” said she, “if he is ever so angry, though I don’t think + he will be, do you think that will be half as bad as this load at your + heart? Besides, if you are not bold enough to speak to him, do you think + you can ever be brave enough for a sailor?” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Harry, and the words were hardly spoken, before his + father’s hand was on the door. He was taken by surprise at the moment of + trial coming so speedily, and had half a mind to retreat by the other + door; he was stayed by the reflection that Margaret would think him a + coward, unfit for a sailor, and he made up his mind to endure whatever + might betide. + </p> + <p> + “Harry here? This is company I did not expect.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry has something to say to you, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! my boy, what is it?” said he kindly. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, I have killed a partridge. Two fellows got me to hire a gun, and go + out shooting with them last Saturday,” said Harry, speaking firmly and + boldly now he had once begun. “We meant only to go after pee-wits, but a + partridge got up, and I killed it.” + </p> + <p> + Then came a pause. Harry stopped, and Dr. May waited, half expecting to + hear that the boy was only brought to confession by finding himself in a + scrape. Margaret spoke. “And he could not be happy till he had told you.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it so? Is that the whole?” said the doctor, looking at his son with a + keen glance, between affection and inquiry, as if only waiting to be sure + the confession was free, before he gave his free forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa,” said Harry, his voice and lip losing their firmness, as the + sweetness of expression gained the day on his father’s face. “Only that I + know—‘twas very wrong—especially now—and I am very sorry—and + I beg your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + The latter words came between sighs, fast becoming sobs, in spite of + Harry’s attempts to control them, as his father held out his arm, and drew + him close to him. + </p> + <p> + “That’s mamma’s own brave boy,” he said in his ear—in a voice which + strong feeling had reduced to such a whisper, that even Margaret could not + hear—she only saw how Harry, sobbing aloud, clung tighter and + tighter to him, till he said “Take care of my arm!” and Harry sprang back + at least a yard, with such a look of dismay, that the doctor laughed. “No + harm done!” said he. “I was only a little in dread of such a young lion! + Comeback, Harry,” and he took his hand. “It was a bad piece of work, and + it will never do for you to let yourself be drawn into every bit of + mischief that is on foot; I believe I ought to give you a good lecture on + it, but I can’t do it, after such a straightforward confession. You must + have gone through enough in the last week, not to be likely to do it + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa—thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I must not ask you any questions about it, for fear of + betraying the fellows,” said Dr. May, half smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, papa,” said Harry, infinitely relieved and grateful, and quite + content for some space to lean in silence against the chair, with that + encircling arm round him, while some talk passed between his father and + Margaret. + </p> + <p> + What a world of thought passed through the boy’s young soul in that space! + First, there was a thrill of intense, burning love to his father, scarcely + less fondness to his sweet motherly sister; a clinging feeling to every + chair and table of that room, which seemed still full of his mother’s + presence; a numbering over of all the others with ardent attachment, and a + flinging from him with horror the notion of asking to be far away from + that dearest father, that loving home, that arm that was round him. + Anything rather than be without them in the dreary world! But then came + the remembrance of cherished visions, the shame of relinquishing a settled + purpose, the thought of weary morrows, with the tempters among his + playmates, and his home blank and melancholy; and the roaming spirit of + enterprise stirred again, and reproached him with being a baby, for + fancying he could stay at home for ever. He would come back again with + such honours as Alan Ernescliffe had brought, and oh! if his father so + prized them in a stranger, what would it be in his own son? Come home to + such a greeting as would make up for the parting! Harry’s heart throbbed + again for the boundless sea, the tall ship, and the wondrous foreign + climes, where he had so often lived in fancy. Should he, could he speak: + was this the moment? and he stood gazing at the fire, oppressed with the + weighty reality of deciding his destiny. At last Dr. May looked in his + face, “Well, what now, boy? You have your head full of something—what’s + coming next?” + </p> + <p> + Out it came, “Papa will you let me be a sailor?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Dr. May, “that is come on again, is it? I thought that you had + forgotten all that.” + </p> + <p> + “No, papa,” said Harry, with the manly coolness that the sense of his + determination gave him—“it was not a mere fancy, and I have never + had it out of my head. I mean it quite in earnest—I had rather be a + sailor. I don’t wish to get away from Latin and Greek, I don’t mind them; + but I think I could be a better sailor than anything. I know it is not all + play, but I am willing to rough it; and I am getting so old, it is time to + see about it, so will you consent to it, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Well! there’s some sense in your way of putting it,” said Dr. May. “You + have it strong in your head then, and you know ‘tis not all fair-weather + work!” + </p> + <p> + “That I do; Alan told me histories, and I’ve read all about it; but one + must rough it anywhere, and if I am ever so far away, I’ll try not to + forget what’s right. I’ll do my duty, and not care for danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Well said, my man; but remember ‘tis easier talking by one’s own fireside + than doing when the trial comes.” + </p> + <p> + “And will you let me, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll think about it. I can’t make up my mind as ‘quick as directly,’ you + know, Harry,” said his father, smiling kindly, “but I won’t treat it as a + boy’s fancy, for you’ve spoken in a manly way, and deserve to be attended + to. Now run down, and tell the girls to put away their work, for I shall + come down in a minute to read prayers.” + </p> + <p> + Harry went, and his father sighed and mused! “That’s a fine fellow! So + this is what comes of bringing sick sailors home—one’s own boys must + be catching the infection. Little monkey, he talks as wisely as if he were + forty! He is really set on it, do you think, Margaret? I’m afraid so!” + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” said Margaret; “I don’t think he ever has it out of his + mind!” + </p> + <p> + “And when the roving spirit once lays hold of a lad, he must have his way—he + is good for nothing else,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose a man may keep from evil in that profession as well as in any + other,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! you are bit too, are you?” said the doctor; “‘tis the husbandman and + viper, is it?” Then his smile turned into a heavy sigh, as he saw he had + brought colour to Margaret’s pale cheek, but she answered calmly, “Dear + mamma did not think it would be a bad thing for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said the doctor, pausing; “but it never came to this with her.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he had chosen something else; but—” and Margaret thought it + right to lay before her father some part of what he had said of the + temptations of the school at Stoneborough. The doctor listened and + considered at last he rose, and said, “Well, I’ll set Ritchie to write to + Ernescliffe, and hear what he says. What must be, must be. ‘Tis only + asking me to give up the boy, that’s all;” and as he left the room, his + daughter again heard his sigh and half-uttered words, “Oh, Maggie, + Maggie!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A tale + Would rouse adventurous courage in a boy, + And make him long to be a mariner, + That he might rove the main.—SOUTHEY. +</pre> + <p> + Etheldred had the satisfaction of seeing the Taylors at school on Sunday, + but no Halls made their appearance, and, on inquiry, she was told, “Please + ma’am, they said they would not come;” so Ethel condemned Granny Hall as + “a horrid, vile, false, hypocritical old creature! It was no use having + anything more to do with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Richard; “then I need not speak to my father.” + </p> + <p> + “Ritchie now! you know I meant no such thing!” + </p> + <p> + “You know, it is just what will happen continually.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course there will be failures, but this is so abominable, when they + had those nice frocks, and those two beautiful eighteen-penny shawls! + There are three shillings out of my pound thrown away!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps there was some reason to prevent them. We will go and see.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall only hear some more palavering. I want to have no more to say to—” + but here Ethel caught herself up, and began to perceive what a happiness + it was that she had not the power of acting on her own impulses. + </p> + <p> + The twins and their little brother of two years old were christened in the + afternoon, and Flora invited the parents to drink tea in the kitchen, and + visit Lucy, while Ethel and Mary each carried a baby upstairs to exhibit + to Margaret. + </p> + <p> + Richard, in the meantime, had a conversation with John Taylor, and learned + a good deal about the district, and the number of the people. At tea, he + began to rehearse his information, and the doctor listened with interest, + which put Ethel in happy agitation, believing that the moment was come, + and Richard seemed to be only waiting for the conclusion of a long tirade + against those who ought to do something for the place, when behold! + Blanche was climbing on her father’s knee, begging for one of his Sunday + stories. + </p> + <p> + Etheldred was cruelly disappointed, and could not at first rejoice to see + her father able again to occupy himself with his little girl. The + narration, in his low tones, roused her from her mood of vexation. It was + the story of David, which he told in language scriptural and poetical, so + pretty and tender in its simplicity, that she could not choose but attend. + Ever and anon there was a glance towards Harry, as if he were secretly + likening his own “yellow-haired laddie” to the “shepherd boy, ruddy, and + of a fair countenance.” + </p> + <p> + “So Tom and Blanche,” he concluded, “can you tell me how we may be like + the shepherd-boy, David?” + </p> + <p> + “There aren’t giants now,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Wrong is a giant,” said his little sister. + </p> + <p> + “Right, my white May-flower, and what then?” + </p> + <p> + “We are to fight,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and mind, the giant with all his armour may be some great thing we + have to do: but what did David begin with when he was younger?” + </p> + <p> + “The lion and the bear.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and minding his sheep. Perhaps little things, now you are little + children, may be like the lion and the bear—so kill them off—get + rid of them—cure yourself of whining or dawdling, or whatever it be, + and mind your sheep well,” said he, smiling sweetly in answer to the + children’s earnest looks as they caught his meaning, “and if you do, you + will not find it near so hard to deal with your great giant struggle when + it comes.” + </p> + <p> + Ah! thought Ethel, it suits me as well as the children. I have a great + giant on Cocksmoor, and here I am, not allowed to attack him, because, + perhaps, I am not minding my sheep, and letting my lion and my bear run + loose about the house. + </p> + <p> + She was less impatient this week, partly from the sense of being on + probation, and partly because she, in common with all the rest, was much + engrossed with Harry’s fate. He came home every day at dinner-time with + Norman to ask if Alan Ernescliffe’s letter had come; and at length Mary + and Tom met them open-mouthed with the news that Margaret had it in her + room. + </p> + <p> + Thither they hastened. Margaret held it out with a smile of + congratulation. “Here it is, Harry; papa said you were to have it, and + consider it well, and let him know, when you had taken time. You must do + it soberly. It is once for all.” + </p> + <p> + Harry’s impetuosity was checked, and he took the letter quietly. His + sister put her hand on his shoulder, “Would you mind my kissing you, dear + Harry?” and as he threw his arms round her neck, she whispered, “Pray that + you may choose right.” + </p> + <p> + He went quietly away, and Norman begged to know what had been Alan + Ernescliffe’s advice. + </p> + <p> + “I can scarcely say he gave any direct advice,” said Margaret; “He would + not have thought that called for. He said, no doubt there were hardships + and temptations, more or less, according to circumstances; but weighing + one thing with another, he thought it gave as fair a chance of happiness + as other professions, and the discipline and regularity had been very good + for himself, as well as for many others he had known. He said, when a man + is willing to go wrong there is much to help him, but when he is resolved + on doing right, he need not be prevented.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what you may say of anything,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Just so; and it answered papa’s question, whether it was exposing Harry + to more temptation than he must meet with anywhere. That was the reason it + was such a comfort to have anyone to write to, who understands it so + well.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and knows Harry’s nature.” + </p> + <p> + “He said he had been fortunate in his captains, and had led, on the whole, + a happy life at sea; and he thought if it was so with him, Harry was + likely to enjoy it more, being of a hardy adventurous nature, and a sailor + from choice, not from circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he advised for it? I did not think he would; you know he will not + let Hector be a sailor.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me he thought only a strong natural bent that way made it + desirable, and that he believed Hector only wished it from imitation of + him. He said too, long ago, that he thought Harry cut out for a sailor. + </p> + <p> + “A spirited fellow!” said Norman, with a look of saddened pride and + approval, not at all like one so near the same age. “He is up to anything, + afraid of nothing, he can lick any boy in the school already. It will be + worse than ever without him!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will miss your constant follower. He has been your shadow ever + since he could walk. But there’s the clock, I must not keep you any + longer; good-bye, Norman.” + </p> + <p> + Harry gave his brother the letter as soon as they were outside the house, + and, while he read it, took his arm and guided him. “Well,” said Norman as + he finished. + </p> + <p> + “It is all right,” said Harry; and the two brothers said no more; there + was something rising up in their throats at the thought that they had very + few more walks to take together to Bishop Whichcote’s school; Norman’s + heart was very full at the prospect of another vacancy in his home, and + Harry’s was swelling between the ardour of enterprise and the thought of + bidding good-bye to each familiar object, and, above all, to the brother + who had been his model and admiration from babyhood. + </p> + <p> + “June!” at length he broke out, “I wish you were going too. I should not + mind it half so much if you were.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Harry! you want to be July after June all your life, do you? + You’ll be much more of a man without me.” + </p> + <p> + That evening Dr. May called Harry into his study to ask him if his mind + was made up; he put the subject fairly before him, and told him not to be + deterred from choosing what he thought would be for the best by any + scruples about changing his mind. “We shall not think a bit the worse of + you; better now, than too late.” + </p> + <p> + There was that in his face and tone that caused Harry to say, in a stifled + voice, “I did not think you would care so much, papa; I won’t go, if you + do.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May put his hand on his shoulder, and was silent. Harry felt a strange + mixture of hope and fear, joy and grief, disappointment and relief. “You + must not give it up on that account, my dear,” he said at length; “I + should not let you see this, if it did not happen at a time when I can’t + command myself as I ought. If you were an only son, it might be your duty + to stay; being one of many, ‘tis nonsense to make a rout about parting + with you. If it is better for you, it is better for all of us; and we + shall do very well when you are once fairly gone. Don’t let that influence + you for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Harry paused, not that he doubted, but he was collecting his energies—“Then, + papa, I choose the navy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is done, Harry. You have chosen in a dutiful, unselfish spirit, + and I trust it will prosper with you; for I am sure your father’s blessing—aye, + and your mother’s too, go with you! Now then,” after a pause, “go and call + Richard. I want him to write to Ernescliffe about that naval school. You + must take your leave of the Whichcote foundation on Friday. I shall go and + give Dr. Hoxton notice tomorrow, and get Tom’s name down instead.” + </p> + <p> + And when the name of Thomas May was set down, Dr. Hoxton expressed his + trust that it would pass through the school as free from the slightest + blemish as those of Richard, Norman, and Harry May. + </p> + <p> + Now that Harry’s destiny was fixed, Ethel began to think of Cocksmoor + again, and she accomplished another walk there with Richard, Flora, and + Mary, to question Granny Hall about the children’s failure. + </p> + <p> + The old woman’s reply was a tissue of contradictions: the girls were idle + hussies, all contrary: they plagued the very life out of her, and she + represented herself as using the most frightful threats, if they would not + go to school. Breaking every bone in their skin was the least injury she + promised them; till Mary, beginning to think her a cruel old woman, took + hold of her brother’s coat-tails for protection. + </p> + <p> + “But I am afraid, Mrs. Hall,” said Richard, in that tone which might be + either ironical or simple, “if you served them so, they would never be + able to get to school at all, poor things.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, sir, d’ye think I’d ever lay a finger near them; it’s only the + way one must talk to children, you see,” said she, patronising his + inexperience. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps they have found that out,” said Richard. Granny looked much + entertained, and laughed triumphantly and shrewdly, “ay, ay, that they + have, the lasses—they be sharp enough for anything, that they be. + Why, when I tell little Jenny that there’s the black man coming after her, + what does she do but she ups and says, ‘Granny, I know ‘tis only the wind + in the chimney.’” + </p> + <p> + “Then I don’t think it seems to answer,” said Richard. “Just suppose you + were to try for once, really punishing them when they won’t obey you, + perhaps they would do it next time.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, you see I don’t like to take the stick to them; they’ve got no + mother, you see, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mary thought her a kind grandmother, and came out from behind her brother. + </p> + <p> + “I think it would be kinder to do it for once. What do you think they will + do as they grow older, if you don’t keep them in order when they are + little?” + </p> + <p> + This was foresight beyond Granny Hall, who began to expatiate on the + troubles she had undergone in their service, and the excellence of Sam. + There was certainly a charm in her manners, for Ethel forgot her charge of + ingratitude, the other sisters were perfectly taken with her, nor could + they any of them help giving credence to her asseverations that Jenny and + Polly should come to school next Sunday. + </p> + <p> + They soon formed another acquaintance; a sharp-faced woman stood in their + path, with a little girl in her hand, and arrested them with a low + curtsey, and not a very pleasant voice, addressing herself to Flora, who + was quite as tall as Richard, and appeared the person of most consequence. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, miss, I wanted to speak to you. I have got a little girl + here, and I want to send her to school, only I have no shoes for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, surely, if she can run about here on the heath, she can go to + school,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but there is all the other children to point at her. The poor thing + would be daunted, you see, miss; if I could but get some friend to give + her a pair of shoes, I’d send her in a minute. I want her to get some + learning; as I am always saying, I’d never keep her away, if I had but got + the clothes to send her in. I never lets her be running on the common, + like them Halls, as it’s a shame to see them in nice frocks, as Mrs. Hall + got by going hypercriting about.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” said Richard, cutting her short. + </p> + <p> + “Watts, if you please, sir; we heard there was good work up here, sir, and + so we came; but I’d never have set foot in it if I had known what a dark + heathenish place it is, with never a Gospel minister to come near it,” and + a great deal more to the same purpose. + </p> + <p> + Mary whispered to Flora something about having outgrown her boots, but + Flora silenced her by a squeeze of the hand, and the two friends of + Cocksmoor felt a good deal puzzled. + </p> + <p> + At last Flora said, “You will soon get her clothed if she comes regularly + to school on Sundays, for she will be admitted into the club; I will + recommend her if she has a good character and comes regularly. + Good-morning, Mrs. Watts. Now we must go, or it will be dark before we get + home.” And they walked hastily away. + </p> + <p> + “Horrid woman!” was Ethel’s exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “But Flora,” said innocent Mary, “why would you not let me give the little + girl my boots?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I may, if she is good and comes to school, said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I think Margaret ought to settle what you do with your boots,” said + Richard, not much to Flora’s satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “It is the same,” she said. “If I approve, Margaret will not object.” + </p> + <p> + “How well you helped us out, Flora,” said Ethel; “I did not know in the + least what to say.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be the best way of testing her sincerity, said Flora; and at + least it will do the child good; but I congratulate you on the promising + aspect of Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + “We did not expect to find a perfect place,” said Ethel; “if it were, it + would be of no use to go to it.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel could answer with dignity, but her heart sank at the aspect of what + she had undertaken. She knew there would be evil, but she had expected it + in a more striking and less disagreeable form. + </p> + <p> + That walk certainly made her less impatient, though it did not relax her + determination, nor the guard over her lion and bear, which her own good + feeling, aided by Margaret’s council, showed her were the greatest + hindrances to her doing anything good and great. + </p> + <p> + Though she was obliged to set to work so many principles and reflections + to induce herself to wipe a pen, or to sit straight on her chair, that it + was like winding up a steam-engine to thread a needle; yet the work was + being done—she was struggling with her faults, humbled by them, + watching them, and overcoming them. + </p> + <p> + Flora, meanwhile, was sitting calmly down in the contemplation of the + unexpected services she had rendered, confident that her character for + energy and excellence was established, believing it herself, and looking + back on her childish vanity and love of domineering as long past and + conquered. She thought her grown-up character had begun, and was too + secure to examine it closely. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One thing is wanting in the beamy cup + Of my young life! one thing to be poured in; + Ay, and one thing is wanting to fill up + The measure of proud joy, and make it sin.—F. W. F. +</pre> + <p> + Hopes that Dr. May would ever have his mind free, seemed as fallacious as + mamma’s old promise to Margaret, to make doll’s clothes for her whenever + there should be no live dolls to be worked for in the nursery. + </p> + <p> + Richard and Ethel themselves had their thoughts otherwise engrossed. The + last week before the holidays was an important one. There was an + examination, by which the standing of the boys in the school was + determined, and this time it was of more than ordinary importance, as the + Randall scholarship of £100 a year for three years would be open in the + summer to the competition of the first six boys. Richard had never come + within six of the top, but had been past at every examination by younger + boys, till his father could bear it no longer; and now Norman was too + young to be likely to have much chance of being of the number. There were + eight decidedly his seniors, and Harvey Anderson, a small, quick-witted + boy, half a year older, who had entered school at the same time, and had + always been one step below him, had, in the last three months, gained fast + upon him. + </p> + <p> + Harry, however, meant Norman to be one of the six, and declared all the + fellows thought he would be, except Andersen’s party. Mr. Wilmot, in a + call on Ethel and Flora, told them that he thought their brother had a + fair chance, but he feared he was over-working himself, and should tell + the doctor so, whenever he could catch him; but this was difficult, as + there was a great deal of illness just then, and he was less at home than + usual. + </p> + <p> + All this excited the home party, but Norman only seemed annoyed by talk + about it, and though always with a book in his hand, was so dreamy and + listless, that Flora declared that there was no fear of his doing too much—she + thought he would fail for want of trying. + </p> + <p> + “I mean to try,” said Norman; “say no more about it, pray.” + </p> + <p> + The great day was the 20th of December, and Ethel ran out, as the boys + went to school, to judge of Norman’s looks, which were not promising. “No + wonder,” said Harry, since he had stayed up doing Euripides and Cicero the + whole length of a candle that had been new at bedtime. “But never mind, + Ethel, if he only beats Anderson, I don’t care for anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it will be unbearable if he does not! Do try, Norman, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind.” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll light up at the last moment,” said Ethel, consolingly, to Harry; + but she was very uneasy herself, for she had set her heart on his + surpassing Harvey Anderson. No more was heard all day. Tom went at + dinner-time to see if he could pick up any news; but he was shy, or was + too late, and gained no intelligence. Dr. May and Richard talked of going + to hear the speeches and viva voce examination in the afternoon—objects + of great interest to all Stoneborough men—but just as they came home + from a long day’s work, Dr. May was summoned to the next town, by an + electric telegraph, and, as it was to a bad case, he did not expect to be + at home till the mail-train came in at one o’clock at night. Richard + begged to go with him, and he consented, unwillingly, to please Margaret, + who could not bear to think of his “fending for himself” in the dark on + the rail-road. + </p> + <p> + Very long did the evening seem to the listening sisters. Eight, and no + tidings; nine, the boys not come; Tom obliged to go to bed by sheer + sleepiness, and Ethel unable to sit still, and causing Flora demurely to + wonder at her fidgeting so much, it would be so much better to fix her + attention to some employment; while Margaret owned that Flora was right, + but watched, and started at each sound, almost as anxiously as Ethel. + </p> + <p> + It was ten, when there was a sharp pull at the bell, and down flew the + sisters; but old James was beforehand, and Harry was exclaiming, “Dux! + James, he is Dux! Hurrah! Flossy, Ethel, Mary! There stands the Dux of + Stoneborough! Where’s papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Sent for to Whitford. But oh! Norman, Dux! Is he really?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, but I must tell Margaret,” and up he rushed, shouted the news + to her, but could not stay for congratulation; broke Tom’s slumber by + roaring it in his ear, and dashed into the nursery, where nurse for once + forgave him for waking the baby. Norman, meanwhile, followed his eager + sisters into the drawing-room, putting up his hand as if the light dazzled + him, and looking, by no means, as it he had just achieved triumphant + success. + </p> + <p> + Ethel paused in her exultation: “But is it, is it true, Norman?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said wearily, making his way to his dark corner. + </p> + <p> + “But what was it for? How is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” said Flora. “Are you tired, Norman, dear, does your + head ache?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes;” and the pain was evidently severe. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you come to Margaret?” said Ethel, knowing what was the greater + suffering; but he did not move, and they forbore to torment him with + questions. The next moment Harry came down in an ecstacy, bringing in, + from the hall, Norman’s beautiful prize books, and showing off their Latin + inscription. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said he, looking at his brother, “he is regularly done for. He ought + to turn in at once. That Everard is a famous fellow for an examiner. He + said he never had seen such a copy of verses sent up by a school-boy, and + could hardly believe June was barely sixteen. Old Hoxton says he is the + youngest Dux they have had these fifty years that he has known the school, + and Mr. Wilmot said ‘twas the most creditable examination he had ever + known, and that I might tell papa so. What did possess that ridiculous old + landlubber at Whitford, to go and get on the sick-list on this, of all the + nights of the year? June, how can you go on sitting there, when you know + you ought to be in your berth?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he was,” said Flora, “but let him have some tea first.” + </p> + <p> + “And tell us more, Harry,” said Ethel. “Oh! it is famous! I knew he would + come right at last. It is too delightful, if papa was but here!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it? You should have seen how Anderson grinned—he is only + fourth—down below Forder, and Cheviot, and Ashe.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I did not think Norman would have been before Forder and Cheviot. + That is grand.” + </p> + <p> + “It was the verses that did it,” said Harry; “they had an hour to do + Themistocles on the hearth of Admetus, and there he beat them all to + shivers. ‘Twas all done smack, smooth, without a scratch, in Alcaics, and + Cheviot heard Wilmot saying, ‘twas no mere task, but had poetry, and all + that sort of thing in it. But I don’t know whether that would have done, + if he had not come out so strong in the recitation; they put him on in + Priam’s speech to Achilles, and he said it—Oh it was too bad papa + did not hear him! Every one held their breath and listened.” + </p> + <p> + “How you do go on!” muttered Norman; but no one heeded, and Harry + continued. “He construed a chorus in Sophocles without a blunder, but what + did the business was this, I believe. They asked all manner of + out-of-the-way questions—history and geography, what no one + expected, and the fellows who read nothing they can help, were thoroughly + posed. Forder had not a word to say, and the others were worse, for + Cheviot thought Queen Elizabeth’s Earl of Leicester was Simon de Montfort; + and didn’t know when that battle was, beginning with an E.—was it + Evesham, or Edgehill?” + </p> + <p> + “O Harry, you are as bad yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “But any one would know Leicester, because of Kenilworth,” said Harry; + “and I’m not sixth form. If papa had but been there! Every one was asking + for him, and wishing it. For Dr. Hoxton called me—they shook hands + with me, and wished me joy of it, and told me to tell my father how well + Norman had done.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you looked so happy, they could not help it,” said Flora, + smiling at that honest beaming face of joy. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Norman, looking up; “they had something to say to him on his + own score, which he has forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not,” said Harry. “Why, what d’ye think they said? That I + had gone on as well as all the Mays, and they trusted I should still, and + be a credit to my profession.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Harry! why didn’t you tell us?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that is grand!” and, as the two elder girls made this exclamation, + Mary proceeded to a rapturous embrace. “Get along, Mary, you are + throttling one. Mr. Everard inquired for my father and Margaret, and said + he’d call to-morrow, and Hoxton and Wilmot kept on wishing he was there.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he had been!” said Ethel; “he would have taken such delight in it; + but, even if he could have gone, he doubted whether it would not have made + Norman get on worse from anxiety.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Cheviot wanted me to send up for him at dinner-time,” said Harry; + “for as soon as we sat down in the hall, June turned off giddy, and could + not stay, and looked so horrid, we thought it was all over with him, and + he would not be able to go up at all.” + </p> + <p> + “And Cheviot thought you ought to send for papa!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I knew he would not be in, and so we left him lying down on the + bench in the cloister till dinner was over.” + </p> + <p> + “What a place for catching cold!” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “So Cheviot said, but I couldn’t help it; and when we went to call him + afterwards, he was all right. Wasn’t it fun, when the names were called + over, and May senior at the head! I don’t think it will be better when I + am a post-captain myself! But Margaret has not heard half yet.” + </p> + <p> + After telling it once in her room, once in the nursery, in whispers like + gusts of wind, and once in the pantry, Harry employed himself in writing—“Norman + is Dux!” in immense letters, on pieces of paper, which he disposed all + over the house, to meet the eyes of his father and Richard on their + return. + </p> + <p> + Ethel’s joy was sadly damped by Norman’s manner. He hardly spoke—only + just came in to wish Margaret good-night, and shrank from her affectionate + sayings, departing abruptly to his own room. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow! he is sadly overdone,” said she, as he went. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” sighed Ethel, nearly ready to cry, “‘tis not like what I used to + fancy it would be when he came to the head of the school!” + </p> + <p> + “It will be different to-morrow,” said Margaret, trying to console herself + as well as Ethel. “Think how he has been on the strain this whole day, and + long before, doing so much more than older boys. No wonder he is tired and + worn out.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel did not understand what mental fatigue was, for her active, vigorous + spirit had never been tasked beyond its powers. + </p> + <p> + “I hope he will be like himself to-morrow!” said she disconsolately. “I + never saw him rough and hasty before. It was even with you, Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Ethel you aren’t going to blame your own Norman for unkindness on + this of all days in the year. You know how it was; you love him better; + just as I do, for not being able to bear to stay in this room, where—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel, mournfully; “it was a great shame of me! How could I? + Dear Norman! how he does grieve—what love his must have been! But + yet, Margaret,” she said impatiently, and the hot tears breaking out, “I + cannot—cannot bear it! To have him not caring one bit for all of us! + I want him to triumph! I can’t without him!” + </p> + <p> + “What, Ethel, you, who said you didn’t care for mere distinction and + praise? Don’t you think dear mamma would say it was safer for him not to + be delighted and triumphant?” + </p> + <p> + “It is very tiresome,” said Ethel, nearly convinced, but in a slightly + petulant voice. + </p> + <p> + “And does not one love those two dear boys to-night!” said Margaret. + “Norman not able to rejoice in his victory without her, and Harry in such + an ecstacy with Norman’s honours. I don’t think I ever was so fond of my + two brothers.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel smiled, and drew up her head, and said no boys were like them + anywhere, and papa would be delighted, and so went to bed happier in her + exultation, and in hoping that the holidays would make Norman himself + again. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could be better news for Dr. May, who had never lost a grain of + the ancient school-party-loyalty that is part of the nature of the English + gentleman. He was a thorough Stoneborough boy, had followed the politics + of the Whichcote foundation year by year all his life, and perhaps, in his + heart, regarded no honour as more to be prized than that of Dux and + Randall scholar. Harry was in his room the next morning as soon as ever he + was stirring, a welcome guest—teased a little at first, by his + pretending to take it all as a sailor’s prank to hoax him and Richard, and + then free to pour out to delighted ears the whole history of the + examination, and of every one’s congratulations. + </p> + <p> + Norman himself was asleep when Harry went to give this narration. He came + down late, and his father rose to meet him as he entered. “My boy,” he + said, “I had not expected this of you. Well done, Norman!” and the whole + tone and gesture had a heartfelt approval and joy in them, that Ethel knew + her brother was deeply thrilled by, for his colour deepened, and his lips + quivered into something like a smile, though he did not lift his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then came Richard’s warm greeting and congratulation, he, too, showing + himself as delighted as if the honours were his own; and then Dr. May + again, in lively tones, like old times, laughing at Norman for sleeping + late, and still not looking well awake, asking him if he was quite sure it + was not all a dream. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Norman, “I should think it was, if it were not that you all + believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry had better go to sleep next,” said Dr. May, “and see what dreaming + will make him. If it makes Dux of Norman, who knows but it may make Drakes + of him? Ha! Ethel— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, give us for our Kings such Queens, + And for our Ducks such Drakes.” + </pre> + <p> + There had not been such a merry breakfast for months. There was the old + confusion of voices; the boys, Richard, and the doctor had much to talk + over of the school doings of this week, and there was nearly as much + laughing as in days past. Ethel wondered whether any one but herself + observed that the voice most seldom heard was Norman’s. + </p> + <p> + The promised call was made by Dr. Hoxton, and Mr. Everard, an old friend, + and after their departure Dr. May came to Margaret’s room with fresh + accounts, corroborating what Harry had said of the clear knowledge and + brilliant talent that Norman had displayed, to a degree that surprised his + masters, almost as much as the examiners. The copy of verses Dr. May + brought with him, and construed them to Margaret, commenting all the way + on their ease, and the fullness of thought, certainly remarkable in a boy + of sixteen. + </p> + <p> + They were then resigned to Ethel’s keeping, and she could not help + imparting her admiration to their author, with some apology for vexing him + again. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to be cross,” said Norman, whom these words roused to a + sense that he had been churlish last night; “but I cannot help it. I wish + people would not make such a fuss about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think you can be well, Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense. There’s nothing the matter with me.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t understand your not caring at all, and not being the least + pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “It only makes it worse,” said Norman; “I only feel as if I wanted to be + out of the way. My only comfortable time yesterday was on that bench in + the cool quiet cloister. I don’t think I could have got through without + that, when they left me in peace, till Cheviot and Harry came to rout me + up, and I knew it was all coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you have overworked yourself, but it was for something. You have + given papa such pleasure and comfort, as you can’t help being glad of. + That is very different from us foolish young ones and our trumpeting.” + </p> + <p> + “What comfort can it be? I’ve not been the smallest use all this time. + When he was ill, I left him to Ernescliffe, and lay on the floor like an + ass; and if he were to ask me to touch his arm, I should be as bad again. + A fine thing for me to have talked all that arrogant stuff about Richard! + I hate the thought of it; and, as if to make arrows and barbs of it, + here’s Richard making as much of this as if it was a double first class! + He afraid to be compared with me, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Norman, indeed, this is going too far. We can’t be as useful as the elder + ones; and when you know how papa was vexed about Richard, you must be glad + to have pleased him.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were he, it would only make me miss her more. I believe he only + makes much of me that he may not disappoint me.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so. He is really glad, and the more because she would have + been so pleased. He said it would have been a happy day for her, and there + was more of the glad look than the sorry one. It was the glistening look + that comes when he is watching baby, or hearing Margaret say pretty things + to her. You see it is the first bright morning we have had.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norman; “perhaps it was, but I don’t know. I thought half of + it was din.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Norman!” + </p> + <p> + “And another thing, Ethel, I don’t feel as if I had fairly earned it. + Forder or Cheviot ought to have had it. They are both more really good + scholars than I am, and have always been above me. There was nothing I + really knew better, except those historical questions that no one reckoned + on; and not living at home with their sisters and books, they had no such + chance, and it is very hard on them, and I don’t like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you really and truly beat them in everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, by chance. There were lots of places in construing, where I should + have broken down if I had happened to be set on in them; it was only a + wonder I did not in that chorus, for I had only looked at it twice; but + Everard asked me nothing but what I knew; and now and then I get into a + funny state, when nothing is too hard for me, and that was how it was + yesterday evening. Generally, I feel as dull as a post,” said Norman, + yawning and stretching; “I could not make a nonsense hexameter this + minute, if I was to die for it.” + </p> + <p> + “A sort of Berserkar fury!” said Ethel, “like that night you did the + coral-worm verses. It’s very odd. Are you sure you are well, dear Norman?” + </p> + <p> + To which he answered, with displeasure, that he was as well as possible, + ordered her not to go and make any more fuss, and left her hastily. She + was unhappy, and far from satisfied; she had never known his temper so + much affected, and was much puzzled; but she was too much afraid of vexing + him, to impart her perplexity even to Margaret. However, the next day, + Sunday, as she was reading to Margaret after church, her father came in, + and the first thing he said was, “I want to know what you think of + Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” said Margaret; “in health or spirits?” + </p> + <p> + “Both,” said Dr. May. “Poor boy! he has never held up his head since + October, and, at his age, that is hardly natural. He goes moping about, + has lost flesh and appetite, and looks altogether out of order, shooting + up like a Maypole too.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind and body,” said Margaret, while Ethel gazed intently at her father, + wondering whether she ought to speak, for Margaret did not know half what + she did; nothing about the bad nights, nor what he called the “funny + state.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, both. I fancied it was only his rapid growth, and the excitement of + this examination, and that it would go off, but I think there’s more + amiss. He was lounging about doing nothing, when the girls were gone to + school after dinner, and I asked him to walk down with me to the + Almshouses. He did not seem very willing, but he went, and presently, as I + had hold of his arm, I felt him shivering, and saw him turn as pale as a + sheet. As soon as I noticed it, he flushed crimson, and would not hear of + turning back, stoutly protesting he was quite well, but I saw his hand was + quivering even when I got into church. Why, Ethel, you have turned as red + as he did.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he has done it!” exclaimed Ethel, in a smothered voice. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Speak, Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “He has gone past it—the place,” whispered she. + </p> + <p> + The doctor made a sound of sorrowful assent, as if much struck; then said, + “you don’t mean he has never been there since?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel, “he has always gone round Randall’s alley or the + garden; he has said nothing, but has contrived to avoid it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Dr. May, after a pause, “I hoped none of us knew the exact + spot.” + </p> + <p> + “We don’t; he never told us, but he was there.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he?” exclaimed her father; “I had no notion of that. How came he + there?” + </p> + <p> + “He went on with Mr. Ernescliffe, and saw it all,” said Ethel, as her + father drew out her words, apparently with his eye; “and then came up to + my room so faint that he was obliged to lie on the floor ever so long.” + </p> + <p> + “Faint—how long did it last?” said her father, examining her without + apparent emotion, as if it had been an indifferent patient. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, things seemed so long that evening. Till after dark at + least, and it came on in the morning—no, the Monday. I believe it + was your arm—for talking of going to see you always brought it on, + till Mr. Ward gave him a dose of brandy-and-water, and that stopped it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had known this before. Derangement of the nervous system, no + doubt—a susceptible boy like that—I wonder what sort of nights + he has been having.” + </p> + <p> + “Terrible ones,” said Ethel; “I don’t think he ever sleeps quietly till + morning; he has dreams, and he groans and talks in his sleep; Harry can + tell you all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me!” cried Dr. May, in some anger; “what have you all been thinking + about to keep this to yourselves all this time?” + </p> + <p> + “He could not bear to have it mentioned,” said Ethel timidly; “and I + didn’t know that it signified so much; does it?” + </p> + <p> + “It signifies so much, that I had rather have given a thousand pounds than + have let him go on all this time, to be overworked at school, and wound up + to that examination!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! I am sorry!” said Ethel, in great dismay. “If you had but been + at home when Cheviot wanted Harry to have sent for you—because he + did not think him fit for it!” And Ethel was much relieved by pouring out + all she knew, though her alarm was by no means lessened by the effect it + produced on her father, especially when he heard of the “funny state.” + </p> + <p> + “A fine state of things,” he said; “I wonder it has not brought on a + tremendous illness by this time. A boy of that sensitive temperament + meeting with such a shock—never looked after—the quietest and + most knocked down of all, and therefore the most neglected—his whole + system disordered—and then driven to school to be harassed and + overworked; if we had wanted to occasion brain fever we could not have + gone a better way to set about it. I should not wonder if health and + nerves were damaged for life!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! papa, papa!” cried Ethel, in extreme distress, “what shall I do! I + wish I had told you, but—” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not blaming you, Ethel, you knew no better, but it has been grievous + neglect. It is plain enough there is no one to see after you,” said the + doctor, with a low groan. + </p> + <p> + “We may be taking it in time,” said Margaret’s soft voice—“it is + very well it has gone on no longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Three months is long enough,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” continued Margaret, “it will be better not to let dear Norman + know we are uneasy about him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, certainly not. Don’t say a word of this to him. I shall find + Harry, and ask about these disturbed nights, and then watch him, trusting + it may not have gone too far; but there must be dreadful excitability of + brain!” + </p> + <p> + He went away, leaving Margaret to comfort Ethel as well as she could, by + showing her that he had not said the mischief was done, putting her in + mind that he was wont to speak strongly; and trying to make her thankful + that her brother would now have such care as might avert all evil results. + </p> + <p> + “But, oh,” said Ethel, “his success has been dearly purchased!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “It hath do me mochil woe.” + “Yea hath it? Use,” quod he, “this medicine; + Every daie this Maie or that thou dine, + Go lokin in upon the freshe daisie, + And though thou be for woe in poinct to die, + That shall full gretly lessen thee of thy pine.” + CHAUCER. +</pre> + <p> + That night Norman started from, what was not so much sleep, as a trance of + oppression and suffering, and beheld his father’s face watching him + attentively. + </p> + <p> + “Papa! What’s the matter?” said he, starting up. “Is any one ill?” + </p> + <p> + “No; no one, lie down again,” said Dr. May, possessing himself of a hand, + with a burning spot in the palm, and a throbbing pulse. + </p> + <p> + “But what made you come here? Have I disturbed any one? Have I been + talking?” + </p> + <p> + “Only mumbling a little, but you looked very uncomfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “But I’m not ill—what are you feeling my pulse for?” said Norman + uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “To see whether that restless sleep has quickened it.” + </p> + <p> + Norman scarcely let his father count for a moment, before he asked, “What + o’clock is it?” + </p> + <p> + “A little after twelve.” + </p> + <p> + “What does make you stay up so late, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I often do when my arm seems likely to keep me awake. Richard has done + all I want.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray don’t stay here in the cold,” said Norman, with feverish impatience, + as he turned upwards the cool side of his pillow. “Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + “No hurry,” said his father, still watching him. + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing the matter,” repeated the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Do you often have such unquiet nights?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it does not signify. Good-night,” and he tried to look settled and + comfortable. + </p> + <p> + “Norman,” said his father, in a voice betraying much grief, “it will not + do to go on in this way. If your mother was here, you would not close + yourself against her.” + </p> + <p> + Norman interrupted him in a voice strangled with sobs: “It is no good + saying it—I thought it would only make it worse for you; but that’s + it. I cannot bear the being without her.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May was glad to see that a gush of tears followed this exclamation, as + Norman hid his face under the coverings. + </p> + <p> + “My poor boy,” said he, hardly able to speak, “only One can comfort you + truly; but you must not turn from me; you must let me do what I can for + you, though it is not the same.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it would grieve you more,” said Norman, turning his face + towards him again. + </p> + <p> + “What, to find my children, feeling with me, and knowing what they have + lost? Surely not, Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is of no use,” added Norman, hiding his face again, “no one can + comfort—” + </p> + <p> + “There you are wrong,” said Dr. May, with deep feeling, “there is much + comfort in everything, in everybody, in kindness, in all around, if one + can only open one’s mind to it. But I did not come to keep you awake with + such talk: I saw you were not quite well, so I came up to see about you; + and now, Norman, you will not refuse to own that something is the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know it,” said Norman, “I really believe I am well, if I could + get rid of these horrible nights. I either lie awake, tumbling and + tossing, or I get all sorts of unbearable dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, when I asked master Harry about you, all the answer I could get was, + that he was quite used to it, and did not mind it at all. As if I asked + for his sake! How fast that boy sleeps—he is fit for a midshipman’s + berth!” + </p> + <p> + “But do you think there is anything amiss with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall know more about that to-morrow morning. Come to my room as soon + as you are up, unless I come to you. Now, I have something to read before + I go to bed, and I may as well try if it will put you to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Norman’s last sight that night was of the outline of his father’s profile, + and he was scarcely awake the next morning before Dr. May was there again. + </p> + <p> + Unwilling as he had been to give way, it was a relief to relinquish the + struggle to think himself well, and to venture to lounge and dawdle, rest + his heavy head, and stretch his inert limbs without fear of remark. His + father found him after breakfast lying on the sofa in the drawing-room + with a Greek play by his side, telling Ethel what words to look out. + </p> + <p> + “At it again!” exclaimed Dr. May. “Carry it away, Ethel. I will have no + Latin or Greek touched these holidays.” + </p> + <p> + “You know,” said Norman, “if I don’t sap, I shall have no chance of + keeping up.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll keep nowhere if you don’t rest.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only Euripides, and I can’t do anything else,” said Norman + languidly. + </p> + <p> + “Very likely, I don’t care. You have to get well first of all, and the + Greek will take care of itself. Go up to Margaret. I put you in her + keeping, while I am gone to Whitford. After that, I dare say Richard will + be very glad to have a holiday, and let you drive me to Abbotstoke.” + </p> + <p> + Norman rose, and wearily walked upstairs, while his sister lingered to + excuse herself. “Papa, I did not think Euripides would hurt him—he + knows it all so well, and he said he could not read anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so, Ethel. Poor fellow, he has not spirits or energy for anything: + his mind was forced into those classicalities when it wanted rest, and now + it has not spring enough to turn back again.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think him so very ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly, but there’s low fever hanging about him, and we must look + after him well, and I hope we may get him right. I have told Margaret + about him; I can’t stop any longer now.” + </p> + <p> + Norman found the baby in his sister’s room, and this was just what suited + him. The Daisy showed a marked preference for her brothers; and to find + her so merry and good with him, pleased and flattered him far more than + his victory at school. He carried her about, danced her, whistled to her, + and made her admire her pretty blue eyes in the glass most successfully, + till nurse carried her off. But perhaps he had been sent up rather too + soon, for as he sat in the great chair by the fire, he was teased by the + constant coming and going, all the petty cares of a large household + transacted by Margaret—orders to butcher and cook—Harry racing + in to ask to take Tom to the river—Tom, who was to go when his + lesson was done, coming perpetually to try to repeat the same unhappy bit + of ‘As in Proesenti’, each time in a worse whine. + </p> + <p> + “How can you bear it, Margaret?” said Norman, as she finally dismissed + Tom, and laid down her account-book, taking up some delicate fancy work. + “Mercy, here’s another,” as enter a message about lamp oil, in the midst + of which Mary burst in to beg Margaret to get Miss Winter to let her go to + the river with Harry and Tom. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, Mary, I could not think of such a thing. You had better go + back to your lessons, and don’t be silly,” as she looked much disposed to + cry. + </p> + <p> + “No one but a Tom-boy would dream of it,” added Norman; and Mary departed + disconsolate, while Margaret gave a sigh of weariness, and said, as she + returned to her work, “There, I believe I have done. I hope I was not + cross with poor Mary, but it was rather too much to ask.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t think how you can help being cross to every one,” said Norman, as + he took away the books she had done with. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I am,” said Margaret sadly. “It does get trying at times.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so! This eternal worrying must be more than any one can + bear, always lying there too.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only now and then that it grows tiresome,” said Margaret. “I am too + happy to be of some use, and it is too bad to repine, but sometimes a + feeling comes of its being always the same, as if a little change would be + such a treat.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you very tired of lying in bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very, sometimes. I fancy, but it is only fancy, that I could move + better if I was up and dressed. It has seemed more so lately, since I have + been stronger.” + </p> + <p> + “When do you think they will let you get up?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s the question. I believe papa thinks I might be lifted to the sofa + now—and oh! how I long for it—but then Mr. Ward does not + approve of my sitting up, even as I am doing now, and wants to keep me + flat. Papa thinks that of no use, and likely to hurt my general health, + and I believe the end of it will be that he will ask Sir Matthew Fleet’s + opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the man he calls Mat?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you know they went through the university together, and were at + Edinburgh and Paris, but they have never met since he set up in London, + and grew so famous. I believe it would be a great treat to papa to have + him, and it would be a good thing for papa too; I don’t think his arm is + going on right—he does not trust to Mr. Ward’s treatment, and I am + sure some one else ought to see it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you know, Margaret, that he sits up quite late, because he cannot + sleep for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I hear him moving about, but don’t tell him so; I would not have him + guess for the world, that it kept me awake.” + </p> + <p> + “And does it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, if I think he is awake and in pain I cannot settle myself to sleep; + but that is no matter; having no exercise, of course I don’t sleep so + much. But I am very anxious about him—he looks so thin, and gets so + fagged—and no wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Mr. Everard told me he was quite shocked to see him, and would hardly + have known him,” and Norman groaned from the bottom of his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shall hope much from Sir Matthew’s taking him in hand,” said + Margaret cheerfully; “he will mind him, though he will not Mr. Ward.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish the holidays were over!” said Norman, with a yawn, as expressive + as a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “That’s not civil, on the third day,” said Margaret, smiling, “when I am + so glad to have you to look after me, so as to set Flora at liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “What, can I do you any good?” said Norman, with a shade of his former + alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure you can, a great deal. Better not come near me otherwise, for + I make every one into a slave. I want my morning reading now—that + book on Advent, there.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I read it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, that’s nice, and I shall get on with baby’s frock.” + </p> + <p> + Norman read, but, ere long, took to yawning; Margaret begged for the book, + which he willingly resigned, saying, however, that he liked it, only he + was stupid. She read on aloud, till she heard a succession of heavy + breathings, and saw him fast asleep, and so he continued till waked by his + father’s coming home. + </p> + <p> + Richard and Ethel were glad of a walk, for Margaret had found them a + pleasant errand. Their Cocksmoor children could not go home to dinner + between service and afternoon school, and Margaret had desired the cook to + serve them up some broth in the back kitchen, to which the brother and + sister were now to invite them. Mary was allowed to take her boots to + Rebekah Watts, since Margaret held that goodness had better be profitable, + at least at the outset; and Harry and Tom joined the party. + </p> + <p> + Norman, meantime, was driving his father—a holiday preferment highly + valued in the days when Dr. May used only to assume the reins, when his + spirited horses showed too much consciousness that they had a young hand + over them, or when the old hack took a fit of laziness. Now, Norman needed + Richard’s assurance that the bay was steady, so far was he from being + troubled with his ancient desire, that the steed would rear right up on + his hind legs. + </p> + <p> + He could neither talk nor listen till he was clear out of the town, and + found himself master of the animal, and even then the words were few, and + chiefly spoken by Dr. May, until after going along about three miles of + the turnpike road, he desired Norman to turn down a cross-country lane. + </p> + <p> + “Where does this lead?” + </p> + <p> + “It comes out at Abbotstoke, but I have to go to an outlying farm.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Norman, after a few minutes, “I wish you would let me do my + Greek.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that what you have been pondering all this time? What, may not the + bonus Homerus slumber sometimes?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not Homer, it is Euripides. I do assure you, papa, it is no + trouble, and I get much worse without it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, stop here, the road grows so bad that we will walk, and let the boy + lead the horse to meet us at Woodcote.” + </p> + <p> + Norman followed his father down a steep narrow lane, little better than a + stony water-course, and began to repeat, “If you would but let me do my + work! I’ve got nothing else to do, and now they have put me up, I should + not like not to keep my place.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely, but—hollo—how swelled this is!” said Dr. May, as + they came to the bottom of the valley, where a stream rushed along, + coloured with a turbid creamy yellow, making little whirlpools where it + crossed the road, and brawling loudly just above where it roared and + foamed between two steep banks of rock, crossed by a foot-bridge of + planks, guarded by a handrail of rough poles. The doctor had traversed it, + and gone a few paces beyond, when, looking back, he saw Norman very pale, + with one foot on the plank, and one hand grasping the rail. He came back, + and held out his hand, which Norman gladly caught at, but no sooner was + the other side attained, than the boy, though he gasped with relief, + exclaimed, “This is too bad! Wait one moment, please, and let me go back.” + </p> + <p> + He tried, but the first touch of the shaking rail, and glance at the + chasm, disconcerted him, and his father, seeing his white cheeks and rigid + lips, said, “Stop, Norman, don’t try it. You are not fit,” he added, as + the boy came to him reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t bear to be such a wretch!” said he. “I never used to be. I will + not—let me conquer it;” and he was turning back, but the doctor took + his arm, saying decidedly, “No, I won’t have it done. You are only making + it worse by putting a force on yourself.” But the farther Norman was from + the bridge, the more displeased he was with himself, and more anxious to + dare it again. “There’s no bearing it,” he muttered; “let me only run + back. I’ll overtake you. I must do it if no one looks on.” + </p> + <p> + “No such thing,” said the doctor, holding him fast. “If you do, you’ll + have it all over again at night.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s better than to know I am worse than Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Norman, it is no such thing. You will recover your tone if + you will only do as you are told, but your nerves have had a severe shock, + and when you force yourself in this way, you only increase the mischief.” + </p> + <p> + “Nerves,” muttered Norman disdainfully. “I thought they were only fit for + fine ladies.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May smiled. “Well, will it content you if I promise that as soon as I + see fit, I’ll bring you here, and let you march over that bridge as often + as you like?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I must be contented, but I don’t like to feel like a fool.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not, while the moral determination is sound.” + </p> + <p> + “But my Greek, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “At it again—I declare, Norman, you are the worst patient I ever + had!” + </p> + <p> + Norman made no answer, and Dr. May presently said, “Well, let me hear what + you have to say about it. I assure you it is not that I don’t want you to + get on, but that I see you are in great need of rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, papa. I know you mean it for my good, but I don’t think you do + know how horrid it is. I have got nothing on earth to do or care for—the + school work comes quite easy to me, and I’m sure thinking is worse; and + then”—Norman spoke vehemently—“now they have put me up, it + will never do to be beaten, and all the four others ought to be able to do + it. I did not want or expect to be dux, but now I am, you could not bear + me not to keep my place, and to miss the Randall scholarship, as I + certainly shall, if I do not work these whole holidays.” + </p> + <p> + “Norman, I know it,” said his father kindly. “I am very sorry for you, and + I know I am asking of you what I could not have done at your age—indeed, + I don’t believe I could have done it for you a few months ago. It is my + fault that you have been let alone, to have an overstrain and pressure on + your mind, when you were not fit for it, and I cannot see any remedy but + complete freedom from work. At the same time, if you fret and harass + yourself about being surpassed, that is, as you say, much worse for you + than Latin and Greek. Perhaps I may be wrong, and study might not do you + the harm I think it would; at any rate, it is better than tormenting + yourself about next half year, so I will not positively forbid it, but I + think you had much better let it alone. I don’t want to make it a matter + of duty. I only tell you this, that you may set your mind at rest as far + as I am concerned. If you do lose your place, I will consider it as my own + doing, and not be disappointed. I had rather see you a healthy, vigorous, + useful man, than a poor puling nervous wretch of a scholar, if you were to + get all the prizes in the university.” + </p> + <p> + Norman made a little murmuring sound of assent, and both were silent for + some moments, then he said, “Then you will not be displeased, papa, if I + do read, as long as I feel it does me no harm.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you I don’t mean to make it a matter of obedience. Do as you + please—I had rather you read than vexed yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of it. Thank you, papa,” said Norman, in a much cheered voice. + </p> + <p> + They had, in the meantime, been mounting a rising ground, clothed with + stunted wood, and came out on a wide heath, brown with dead bracken; a + hollow, traced by the tops of leafless trees, marked the course of the + stream that traversed it, and the inequalities of ground becoming more + rugged in outlines and grayer in colouring as they receded, till they were + closed by a dark fir wood, beyond which rose in extreme distance the grand + mass of Welsh mountain heads, purpled against the evening sky, except + where the crowning peaks bore a veil of snow. Behind, the sky was pure + gold, gradually shading into pale green, and then into clear light wintry + blue, while the sun sitting behind two of the loftiest, seemed to confound + their outlines, and blend them in one flood of soft hazy brightness. Dr. + May looked at his son, and saw his face clear up, his brow expand, and his + lips unclose with admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the doctor, “it is very fine, is it not? I used to bring mamma + here now and then for a treat, because it put her in mind of her Scottish + hills. Well, your’s are the golden hills of heaven, now, my Maggie!” he + added, hardly knowing that he spoke aloud. Norman’s throat swelled, as he + looked up in his face, then cast down his eyes hastily to hide the tears + that had gathered on his eyelashes. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll leave you here,” said Dr. May; “I have to go to a farmhouse close + by, in the hollow behind us; there’s a girl recovering from a fever. I’ll + not be ten minutes, so wait here.” + </p> + <p> + When he came back, Norman was still where he had left him, gazing + earnestly, and the tears standing on his cheeks. He did not move till his + father laid his hand on his shoulder—they walked away together + without a word, and scarcely spoke all the way home. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May went to Margaret and talked to her of Norman’s fine character, and + intense affection for his mother, the determined temper, and quietly borne + grief, for which the doctor seemed to have worked himself into a perfect + enthusiasm of admiration; but lamenting that he could not tell what to do + with him—study or no study hurt him alike—and he dreaded to + see health and spirits shattered for ever. They tried to devise change of + scene, but it did not seem possible just at present; and Margaret, besides + her fears for Norman, was much grieved to see this added to her father’s + troubles. + </p> + <p> + At night Dr. May again went up to see whether Norman, whom he had moved + into Margaret’s former room, were again suffering from fever. He found him + asleep in a restless attitude, as if he had just dropped off, and waking + almost at the instant of his entrance, he exclaimed, “Is it you? I thought + it was mamma. She said it was all ambition.” + </p> + <p> + Then starting, and looking round the room, and at his father, he collected + himself, and said, with a slight smile, “I didn’t know I had been asleep. + I was awake just now, thinking about it. Papa, I’ll give it up. I’ll try + to put next half out of my head, and not mind if they do pass me.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right, my boy,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “At least if Cheviot and Forder do, for they ought. I only hope Anderson + won’t. I can stand anything but that. But that is nonsense too.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right, Norman,” said the doctor, “and it is a great relief + to me that you see the thing so sensibly.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t see it sensibly at all, papa. I hate it all the time, and I + don’t know whether I can keep from thinking of it, when I have nothing to + do; but I see it is wrong; I thought all ambition and nonsense was gone + out of me, when I cared so little for the examination; but now I see, + though I did not want to be made first, I can’t bear not to be first; and + that’s the old story, just as she used to tell me to guard against + ambition. So I’ll take my chance, and if I should get put down, why, ‘twas + not fair that I should be put up, and it is what I ought to be, and serves + me right into the bargain—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s the best sort of sense, your mother’s sense,” said the + doctor, more affected than he liked to show. “No wonder she came to you in + your dream, Norman, my boy, if you had come to such a resolution. I was + half in hopes you had some such notion when I came upon you, on Far-view + down.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that sky did it,” said Norman, in a low voice; “it made me think + of her in a different way—and what you said too.” + </p> + <p> + “What did I say? I don’t remember.” + </p> + <p> + But Norman could not repeat the words, and only murmured, “Golden hills.” + It was enough. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said the doctor, “you had dwelt on the blank here, not taken home + what it is to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” almost sobbed Norman, “I never could before—that made me,” + after a long silence, “and then I know how foolish I was, and how she + would say it was wrong to make this fuss, when you did not like it, about + my place, and that it was not for the sake of my duty, but of ambition. I + knew that, but till I went to bed to-night, I could not tell whether I + could make up my mind, so I would say nothing.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The days are sad, it is the Holy tide, + When flowers have ceased to blow and birds to sing. + F. TENNYSON. +</pre> + <p> + It had been a hard struggle to give up all thoughts of study, and Norman + was not at first rewarded for it, but rather exemplified the truth of his + own assertion, that he was worse without it; for when this sole occupation + for his mind was taken away, he drooped still more. He would willingly + have shown his father that he was not discontented, but he was too + entirely unnerved to be either cheerful or capable of entering with + interest into any occupation. If he had been positively ill, the task + would have been easier, but the low intermittent fever that hung about him + did not confine him to bed, only kept him lounging, listless and forlorn, + through the weary day, not always able to go out with his father, and on + Christmas Day unfit even for church. + </p> + <p> + All this made the want of his mother, and the vacancy in his home, still + more evident, and nothing was capable of relieving his sadness but his + father’s kindness, which was a continual surprise to him. Dr. May was a + parent who could not fail to be loved and honoured; but, as a busy man, + trusting all at home to his wife, he had only appeared to his children + either as a merry playfellow, or as a stern paternal authority, not often + in the intermediate light of guiding friend, or gentle guardian; and it + affected Norman exceedingly to find himself, a tall schoolboy, watched and + soothed with motherly tenderness and affection; with complete + comprehension of his feelings, and delicate care of them. His father’s + solicitude and sympathy were round him day and night, and this, in the + midst of so much toil, pain, grief, and anxiety of his own, that Norman + might well feel overwhelmed with the swelling, inexpressible feelings of + grateful affection. + </p> + <p> + How could his father know exactly what he would like—say the very + things he was thinking—see that his depression was not wilful + repining—find exactly what best soothed him! He wondered, but he + could not have said so to any one, only his eye brightened, and, as his + sisters remarked, he never seemed half so uncomfortable when papa was in + the room. Indeed, the certainty that his father felt the sorrow as acutely + as himself, was one reason of his opening to him. He could not feel that + his brothers and sisters did so, for, outwardly, their habits were + unaltered, their spirits not lowered, their relish for things around much + the same as before, and this had given Norman a sense of isolation. With + his father it was different. Norman knew he could never appreciate what + the bereavement was to him—he saw its traces in almost every word + and look, and yet perceived that something sustained and consoled him, + though not in the way of forgetfulness. Now and then Norman caught at what + gave this comfort, and it might be hoped he would do so increasingly; + though, on this Christmas Day, Margaret felt very sad about him, as she + watched him sitting over the fire, cowering with chilliness and headache, + while every one was gone to church, and saw that the reading of the + service with her had been more of a trouble than a solace. + </p> + <p> + She tried to think it bodily ailment, and strove hard not to pine for her + mother, to comfort them both, and say the fond words of refreshing + cheering pity that would have made all light to bear. Margaret’s home + Christmas was so spent in caring for brother, father, and children, that + she had hardly time to dwell on the sad change that had befallen herself. + </p> + <p> + Christmas was a season that none of them knew well how to meet: Blanche + was overheard saying to Mary that she wished it would not come, and Mary, + shaking her head, and answering that she was afraid that was naughty, but + it was very tiresome to have no fun. Margaret did her best upstairs, and + Richard downstairs, by the help of prints and hymns, to make the children + think of the true joy of Christmas, and in the evening their father + gathered them round, and told them the stories of the Shepherds and of the + Wise Men, till Mary and Blanche agreed, as they went up to bed, that it + had been a very happy evening. + </p> + <p> + The next day Harry discomfited the schoolroom by bursting in with the news + that “Louisa and Fanny Anderson were bearing down on the front door.” + Ethel and Flora were obliged to appear in the drawing-room, where they + were greeted by two girls, rather older than themselves. A whole shower of + inquiries for Dr. May, for Margaret, and for the dear little baby, were + first poured out; then came hopes that Norman was well, as they had not + seen him at church yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, he was kept at home by a bad headache, but it is better + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “We came to congratulate you on his success—we could not help it—it + must have been such a pleasure to you.” + </p> + <p> + “That it was!” exclaimed Ethel, pleased at participation in her rejoicing. + “We were so surprised.” + </p> + <p> + Flora gave a glance of warning, but Ethel’s short-sighted eyes were beyond + the range of correspondence, and Miss Anderson continued. “It must have + been a delightful surprise. We could hardly believe it when Harvey came in + and told us. Every one thought Forder was sure, but they all were put out + by the questions of general information—those were all Mr. Everard’s + doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Everard was very much struck with Norman’s knowledge and scholarship + too,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “So every one says. It was all Mr. Everard’s doing. Miss Harrison told + mamma, but, for my part, I am very glad for the sake of Stoneborough; I + like a town boy to be at the head.” + </p> + <p> + “Norman was sorry for Forder and Cheviot,” began Ethel. Flora tried to + stop her, but Louisa Anderson caught at what she said, and looked eagerly + for more. “He felt,” said she, only thinking of exalting her generous + brother, “as if it was hardly right, when they are so much his seniors, + that he could scarcely enjoy it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is just what people say,” replied Louisa. “But it must be very + gratifying to you, and it makes him certain of the Randal scholarship too, + I suppose. It is a great thing for him! He must have worked very hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that he has,” said Flora; “he is so fond of study, and that goes + halfway.” + </p> + <p> + “So is dear Harvey. How earnest he is over his books! Mamma sometimes + says, ‘Now Harvey, dear, you’ll be quite stupified, you’ll be ill; I + really shall get Dr. May to forbid you.’ I suppose Norman is very busy + too; it is quite the fashion for boys not to be idle now.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Norman can’t help it,” said Ethel piteously. “Papa will not hear of + his doing any Latin or Greek these whole holidays.” + </p> + <p> + “He thinks he will come to it better again for entire rest,” said Flora, + launching another look at her sister, which again fell short. + </p> + <p> + A great deal of polite inquiry whether they were uneasy about him + followed, mixed with a little boasting of dear Harvey’s diligence. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-bye, Ethel, it is you that are the great patroness of the wild + Cocksmoor children—are not you?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel coloured, and mumbled, and Flora answered for her, “Richard and + Ethel have been there once or twice. You know our under nursery-maid is a + Cocksmoor girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mamma said she could not think how Miss May could take one from + thence. The whole place is full of thieves, and do you know, Bessie + Boulder has lost her gold pencil-case.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she?” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “And she had it on Sunday when she was teaching her class.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Ethel vehemently; “surely she does not suspect any of those + poor children!” + </p> + <p> + “I only know such a thing never happened at school before,” said Fanny, + “and I shall never take anything valuable there again.” + </p> + <p> + “But is she sure she lost it at school?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, quite certain. She will not accuse any one, but it is not + comfortable. And how those children do behave at church!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor things! they have been sadly neglected,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “They are quite spoiling the rest, and they are such figures! Why don’t + you, at least, make them cut their hair? You know it is the rule of the + school.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but half the girls in the first class wear it long.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, but those are the superior people, that one would not be strict + with, and they dress it so nicely too. Now these are like little savages.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard thinks it might drive them away to insist at first,” said Ethel; + “we will try to bring it about in time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mrs. Ledwich is nearly resolved to insist, so you had better be + warned, Ethel. She cannot suffer such untidiness and rags to spoil the + appearance of the school, and, I assure you, it is quite unpleasant to the + teachers.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish they would give them all to me!” said Ethel. “But I do hope Mrs. + Ledwich will have patience with them, for they are only to be gained + gently.” + </p> + <p> + The visitors took their leave, and the two sisters began exclaiming—Ethel + at their dislike of her proteges, and Flora at what they had said of + Norman. “And you, Ethel, how could you go and tell them we were surprised, + and Norman thought it was hard on the other boys? They’ll have it all over + the town that he got it unjustly, and knows it, as they say already it was + partiality of Mr. Everard’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no, they never can be so bad!” cried Ethel; “they must have + understood better that it was his noble humility and generosity.” + </p> + <p> + “They understand anything noble! No, indeed! They think every one like + their own beautiful brother! I knew what they came for all the time; they + wanted to know whether Norman was able to work these holidays, and you + told them the very thing they wanted to hear. How they will rejoice with + that Harvey, and make sure of the Randall!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no!” cried Ethel; “Norman must get that!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think he will,” said Flora, “losing all this time, while they are + working. It cannot be helped, of course, but it is a great pity.” + </p> + <p> + “I almost wish he had not been put up at all, if it is to end in this + way,” said Ethel. “It is very provoking, and to have them triumphing as + they will! There’s no bearing it!” + </p> + <p> + “Norman, certainly, is not at all well, poor fellow,” said Flora, “and I + suppose he wants rest, but I wish papa would let him do what he can. It + would be much better for him than moping about as he is always doing now; + and the disappointment of losing his place will be grievous, though now he + fancies he does not care for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder when he will ever care for anything again. All I read and tell + him only seems to tease him, though he tries to thank me.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a strange apathy about him,” said Flora, “but I believe it is + chiefly for want of exertion. I should like to rouse him if papa would let + me; I know I could, by telling him how these Andersons are reckoning on + his getting down. If he does, I shall be ready to run away, that I may + never meet any one here again.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was very unhappy till she was able to pour all this trouble out to + Margaret, and worked herself almost into crying about Norman’s being + passed by “that Harvey,” and his sisters exulting, and papa being vexed, + and Norman losing time and not caring. + </p> + <p> + “There you are wrong,” said Margaret, “Norman did care very much, and it + was not till he had seen clearly that it was a matter of duty to do as + papa thought right, and not agitate his mind about his chances of keeping + up, that he could bear to give up his work;” and she told Ethel a little + of what had passed. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was much struck. “But oh, Margaret, it is very hard, just to have + him put up for the sake of being put down, and pleasing the Andersons!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Ethel, why should you mind so much about the Andersons? May they not + care about their brother as we do for ours?” + </p> + <p> + “Such a brother to care about!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “But I suppose they may like him the best,” said Margaret, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose they do,” said Ethel grudgingly; “but still I cannot bear to + see Norman doing nothing, and I know Harvey Anderson will beat him.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you had rather he did nothing than made himself ill!” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, but I wish it wasn’t so.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but, Ethel, whose doing is his getting into this state?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel looked grave. “It was wrong of me,” said she, “but then papa is not + sure that Greek would hurt him.” + </p> + <p> + “Not sure, but he thinks it not wise to run the risk. But, Ethel, dear, + why are you so bent on his being dux at all costs?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be horrid if he was not.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you remember you used to say that outward praise or honour was not + to be cared for as long as one did one’s duty, and that it might be a + temptation?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know I did,” said Ethel, faltering, “but that was for oneself.” + </p> + <p> + “It is harder, I think, to feel so about those we care for,” said + Margaret; “but after all, this is just what will show whether our pride in + Norman is the right true loving pride, or whether it is only the family + vanity of triumphing over the Andersons.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel hung her head. “There’s some of that,” she said, “but it is not all. + No—I don’t want to triumph over them, nobody would do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Not outwardly perhaps, but in their hearts.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell,” said Ethel, “but it is the being triumphed over that I + cannot bear.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps this is all a lesson in humility for us,” said Margaret “It is + teaching us, ‘Whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased, and he that + humbleth himself shall be exalted.’” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was silent for some little space, then suddenly exclaimed, “And you + think he will really be put down?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret seemed to have been talking with little effect, but she kept her + patience, and answered, “I cannot guess, Ethel, but I’ll tell you one + thing—I think there’s much more chance if he comes to his work fresh + and vigorous after a rest, than if he went on dulling himself with it all + this time.” + </p> + <p> + With which Ethel was so far appeased that she promised to think as little + as she could of the Andersons, and a walk with Richard to Cocksmoor turned + the current of her thoughts. They had caught some more Sunday-school + children by the help of Margaret’s broth, but it was uphill work; the + servants did not like such guests in the kitchen, and they were still less + welcome at school. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think I heard, Ethel?” said Flora, the next Sunday, as they + joined each other in the walk from school to church; “I heard Miss Graves + say to Miss Boulder, ‘I declare I must remonstrate. I undertook to + instruct a national, not a ragged school;’ and then Miss Boulder shook out + her fine watered silk and said, ‘It positively is improper to place ladies + in contact with such squalid objects.’” + </p> + <p> + “Ladies!” cried Ethel. “A stationer’s daughter and a banker’s clerk’s! Why + do they come to teach at school at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Because our example makes it genteel,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you did something more in hopes of making it genteel.” + </p> + <p> + “I caught one of your ragged regiment with her frock gaping behind, and + pinned it up. Such rags as there were under it! Oh, Ethel!” + </p> + <p> + “Which was it?” + </p> + <p> + “That merry Irish-looking child. I don’t know her name.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is a real charming Irish name, Una M’Carthy. I am so glad you did + it, Flora. I hope they were ashamed.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt whether it will do good. We are sure of our station and can do + anything—they are struggling to be ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “But we ought not to talk of them any more, Flora; here we are almost at + the churchyard.” + </p> + <p> + The Tuesday of this week was appointed for the visit of the London + surgeon, Sir Matthew Fleet, and the expectation caused Dr. May to talk + much to Margaret of old times, and the days of his courtship, when it had + been his favourite project that his friend and fellow-student should marry + Flora Mackenzie, and there had been a promising degree of liking, but + “Mat” had been obliged to be prudent, and had ended by never marrying at + all. This the doctor, as well as his daughters, believed was for the sake + of Aunt Flora, and thus the girls were a good deal excited about his + coming, almost as much on his own account, as because they considered him + as the arbiter of Margaret’s fate. He only came in time for a seven + o’clock dinner, and Margaret did not see him that night, but heard enough + from her sisters, when they came up to tell the history of their guest, + and of the first set dinner when Flora had acted as lady of the house. The + dinner it appeared had gone off very well. Flora had managed admirably, + and the only mishap was some awkward carving of Ethel’s which had caused + the dish to be changed with Norman. As to the guest, Flora said he was + very good-looking and agreeable. Ethel abruptly pronounced, “I am very + glad Aunt Flora married Uncle Arnott instead.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t think why,” said Flora. “I never saw a person of pleasanter + manners.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they talk of old times?” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ethel; “that was the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not have them talk of those matters in the middle of dinner,” + said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “No,” again said Ethel; “but papa has a way—don’t you know, + Margaret, how one can tell in a moment if it is company talk.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the conversation about?” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “They talked over some of their fellow-students,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel; “and then when papa told him that beautiful history of + Dr. Spencer going to take care of those poor emigrants in the fever, what + do you think he said? ‘Yes, Spencer was always doing extravagant things.’ + Fancy that to papa, who can hardly speak of it without having to wipe his + spectacles, and who so longs to hear of Dr. Spencer.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; so Flora and Sir Matthew got to pictures and all that sort of + thing, and it was all company talk after that.” + </p> + <p> + “Most entertaining in its kind,” said Flora: “but—oh, Norman!” as he + entered—“why, they are not out of the dining-room yet!” + </p> + <p> + “No; they are talking of some new invention, and most likely will not come + for an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Papa followed me out of the dining-room to tell me to do so after tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Then sit down there, and I’ll go and make some, and let it come up with + Margaret’s. Come, Ethel. Good-night, Norman. Is your head aching + to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much, now I have got out of the dining-room.” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been wiser not to have gone in,” said Flora, leaving the + room. + </p> + <p> + “It was not the dinner, but the man,” said Norman. “It is incomprehensible + to me how my father could take to him. I’d as soon have Harvey Anderson + for a friend!” + </p> + <p> + “You are like me,” said Ethel, “in being glad he is not our uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “He presume to think of falling in love with Aunt Flora!” cried Norman + indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is the matter with him?” asked Margaret. “I can’t find much + ground for Ethel’s dislike, and Flora is pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “She did not hear the worst, nor you either, Ethel,” said Norman. “I could + not stand the cold hard way he spoke of hospital patients. I am sure he + thinks poor people nothing but a study, and rich ones nothing but a + profit. And his half sneers! But what I hated most was his way of avoiding + discussions. When he saw he had said what would not go down with papa, he + did not honestly stand up to the point, and argue it out, but seemed to + have no mind of his own, and to be only talking to please papa—but + not knowing how to do it. He understand my father indeed!” + </p> + <p> + Norman’s indignation had quite revived him, and Margaret was much + entertained with the conflicting opinions. The next was Richard’s, when he + came in late to wish her good-night, after he had been attending on Sir + Matthew’s examination of his father’s arm. He did nothing but admire the + surgeon’s delicacy of touch and understanding of the case, his view + agreeing much better with Dr. May’s own than that with Mr. Ward’s. Dr. May + had never been entirely satisfied with the present mode of treatment, and + Richard was much struck by hearing him say, in answer to Sir Matthew, that + he knew his recovery might have been more speedy and less painful if he + had been able to attend to it at first, or to afford time for being longer + laid up. A change of treatment was now to be made, likely soon to relieve + the pain, to be less tedious and troublesome, and to bring about a + complete cure in three or four months at latest. In hearing such tidings, + there could be little thought of the person who brought them, and Margaret + did not, till the last moment, learn that Richard thought Sir Matthew very + clever and sensible, and certain to understand her case. Her last visitor + was her father: “Asleep, Margaret? I thought I had better go to Norman + first in case he should be awake.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but his pulse is better to-night. He was lying awake to hear what + Fleet thought of me. I suppose Richard told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear papa; what a comfort it is!” + </p> + <p> + “Those fellows in London do keep up to the mark! But I would not be there + for something. I never saw a man so altered. However, if he can only do + for you as well—but it is of no use talking about it. I may trust + you to keep yourself calm, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I am trying—indeed I am, dear papa. If you could help being anxious + for me—though I know it is worse for you, for I only have to lie + still, and you have to settle for me. But I have been thinking how well + off I am, able to enjoy so much, and be employed all day long. It is + nothing to compare with that poor girl you told me of, and you need not be + unhappy for me. I have some verses to say over to myself to-night: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will, + I will lie still, + I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm + And break the charm + That lulls me, clinging to my Father’s breast + In perfect rest.” +</pre> + <p> + “Is not that comfortable?” + </p> + <p> + “My child—my dear child—I will say no more, lest I should + break your sweet peace with my impatience. I will strive for the same + temper, my Margaret. Bless you, dearest, good-night.” + </p> + <p> + After a night spent in waking intervals of such thoughts, Margaret found + the ordinary morning, and the talk she could not escape, somewhat + oppressive. Her brothers and sisters disturbed her by their open + expressions of hope and anxiety; she dreaded to have the balance of + tranquillity overset; and then blamed herself for selfishness in not being + as ready to attend to them as usual. Ethel and Norman came up after + breakfast, their aversion by no means decreased by further acquaintance. + Ethel was highly indignant at the tone in which he had exclaimed, “What, + May, have you one as young as this?” on discovering the existence of the + baby; and when Norman observed that was not so atrocious either, she + proceeded, “You did not hear the contemptuous, compassionate tone when he + asked papa what he meant to do with all these boys.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad he has not to settle,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Papa said Harry was to be a sailor, and he said it was a good way to save + expenses of education—a good thing.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” said Norman, “he thinks papa only wants to get rid of us, or + if not, that it is an amiable weakness.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can’t see anything so shocking in this,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “It is not the words,” said Norman, “the look and tone convey it; but + there are different opinions. Flora is quite smitten with him, he talks so + politely to her.” + </p> + <p> + “And Blanche!” said Ethel. “The little affected pussy-cat made a set at + him, bridled and talked in her mincing voice, with all her airs, and made + him take a great deal of notice of her.” + </p> + <p> + Nurse here came to prepare for the surgeon’s visit. + </p> + <p> + It was over, and Margaret awaited the judgment. Sir Matthew had spoken + hopefully to her, but she feared to fasten hopes on what might have no + meaning, and could rely on nothing, till she had seen her father, who + never kept back his genuine opinion, and would least of all from her. She + found her spirits too much agitated to talk to her sisters, and quietly + begged them to let her be quite alone till the consultation was over, and + she lay trying to prepare herself to submit thankfully, whether she might + be bidden to resign herself to helplessness, or to let her mind open once + more to visions of joyous usefulness. Every step she hoped would prove to + be her father’s approach, and the longest hour of her life was that before + he entered her room. His face said that the tidings were good, and yet she + could not ask. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Margaret, I am glad we had him down. He thinks you may get about + again, though it may be a long time first.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he?—oh, papa!” and the colour spread over her face, as she + squeezed his hand very fast. + </p> + <p> + “He has known the use of the limbs return almost suddenly after even a + year or two,” and Dr. May gave her the grounds of the opinion, and an + account of other like cases, which he said had convinced him, “though, my + poor child,” he said, “I feared the harm I had done you was irremediable, + but thanks—” He turned away his face, and the clasp of their hands + spoke the rest. + </p> + <p> + Presently he told Margaret that she was no longer to be kept prostrate, + but she was to do exactly as was most comfortable to her, avoiding nothing + but fatigue. She might be lifted to the sofa the next day, and if that + agreed with her, she might be carried downstairs. + </p> + <p> + This, in itself, after she had been confined to her bed for three months, + was a release from captivity, and all the brothers and sisters rejoiced as + if she was actually on her feet again. Richard betook himself to + constructing a reading-frame for the sofa; Harry tormented Miss Winter by + insisting on a holiday for the others, and gained the day by an appeal to + his father; then declared he should go and tell Mr. Wilmot the good news; + and Norman, quite enlivened, took up his hat, and said he would come too. + </p> + <p> + In all his joy, however, Dr. May could not cease bewailing the alteration + in his old friend, and spent half the evening in telling Margaret how + different he had once been, in terms little less measured than Ethel’s: “I + never saw such a change. Mat Fleet was one of the most warm, open-hearted + fellows in the world, up to anything. I can hardly believe he is the same—turned + into a mere machine, with a moving spring of self-interest! I don’t + believe he cares a rush for any living thing! Except for your sake, + Margaret, I wish I had never seen him again, and only remembered him as he + was at Edinburgh, as I remembered dear old Spencer. It is a grievous + thing! Ruined entirely! No doubt that London life must be trying—the + constant change and bewilderment of patients preventing much individual + care and interest. It must be very hardening. No family ties either, + nothing to look to but pushing his way. Yes! there’s great excuse for poor + Mat. I never knew fully till now the blessing it was that your dear mother + was willing to take me so early, and that this place was open to me with + all its home connections and interests. I am glad I never had anything to + do with London!” + </p> + <p> + And when he was alone with Norman, he could not help saying, “Norman, my + boy, I’m more glad than ever you yielded to me about your Greek these + holidays, and for the reason you did. Take care the love of rising and + pushing never gets hold of you; there’s nothing that faster changes a man + from his better self.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Sir Matthew Fleet had met another old college friend in London, + and was answering his inquiries for the Dick May of ancient times. + </p> + <p> + “Poor May! I never saw a man so thrown away. With his talent and + acuteness, he might be the most eminent man of his day, if he had only + known how to use them. But he was always the same careless, soft-hearted + fellow, never knowing how to do himself any good, and he is the same + still, not a day older nor wiser. It was a fatal thing for him that there + was that country practice ready for him to step into, and even of that he + does not make as good a thing as he might. Of course, he married early, + and there he is, left a widower with a house full of children—screaming + babies, and great tall sons growing up, and he without a notion what he + shall do with them, as heedless as ever—saving nothing, of course. I + always knew it was what he would come to, if he would persist in burying + himself in that wretched little country town, but I hardly thought, after + all he has gone through, to find him such a mere boy still. And yet he is + one of the cleverest men I ever met—with such talent, and such + thorough knowledge of his profession, that it does one good to hear him + talk. Poor May! I am sorry for him, he might have been anything, but that + early marriage and country practice were the ruin of him.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To thee, dear maid, each kindly wile + Was known, that elder sisters know, + To check the unseasonable smile, + With warning hand and serious brow. + + From dream to dream with her to rove, + Like fairy nurse with hermit child; + Teach her to think, to pray, to love, + Make grief less bitter, joy less wild. + LINES ON A MONUMENT AT LICHFIELD. +</pre> + <p> + Sir Matthew Fleet’s visit seemed like a turning-point with the May family, + rousing and giving them revived hopes. Norman began to shake off his + extreme languor and depression, the doctor was relieved from much of the + wearing suffering from his hurt, and his despondency as to Margaret’s + ultimate recovery had been driven away. The experiment of taking her up + succeeded so well, that on Sunday she was fully attired, “fit to receive + company.” As she lay on the sofa there seemed an advance toward recovery. + Much sweet coquetry was expended in trying to look her best for her + father; and her best was very well, for though the brilliant bloom of + health was gone, her cheeks had not lost their pretty rounded contour, and + still had some rosiness, while her large bright blue eyes smiled and + sparkled. A screen shut out the rest of the room, making a sort of little + parlour round the fire, where sundry of the family were visiting her after + coming home from church in the afternoon. Ethel was in a vehement state of + indignation at what had that day happened at school. “Did you ever hear + anything like it! When the point was, to teach the poor things to be + Christians, to turn them back, because their hair was not regulation + length!” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that! Who did?” said Dr. May, coming in from his own room, where + he had heard a few words. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Ledwich. She sent back three of the Cocksmoor children this morning. + It seems she warned them last Sunday without saying a word to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Sent them back from church!” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly from church,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “It is the same in effect,” said Ethel, “to turn them from school; for if + they did try to go alone, the pew-openers would drive them out.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a wretched state of things!” said Dr. May, who never wanted much + provocation to begin storming about parish affairs. “When I am + churchwarden again, I’ll see what can be done about the seats; but it’s no + sort of use, while Ramsden goes on as he does.” + </p> + <p> + “Now my poor children are done for!” said Ethel. “They will never come + again. And it’s horrid, papa; there are lots of town children who wear + immense long plaits of hair, and Mrs. Ledwich never interferes with them. + It is entirely to drive the poor Cocksmoor ones away—for nothing + else, and all out of Fanny Anderson’s chatter.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, my dear,” said Margaret pleadingly. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I tell you, Margaret, how, as soon as Flora knew what Mrs. Ledwich + was going to do, she went and told her this was the children’s only + chance, and if we affronted them for a trifle, there would be no hope of + getting them back. She said she was sorry, if we were interested for them, + but rules must not be broken; and when Flora spoke of all who do wear long + hair unmolested, she shuffled and said, for the sake of the teachers, as + well as the other children, rags and dirt could not be allowed; and then + she brought up the old story of Miss Boulder’s pencil, though she has + found it again, and ended by saying Fanny Anderson told her it was a + serious annoyance to the teachers, and she was sure we should agree with + her, that something was due to voluntary assistants and subscribers.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid there has been a regular set at them,” said Margaret, “and + perhaps they are troublesome, poor things.” + </p> + <p> + “As if school-keeping were for luxury!” said Dr. May. “It is the worst + thing I have heard of Mrs. Ledwich yet! One’s blood boils to think of + those poor children being cast off because our fine young ladies are too + grand to teach them! The clergyman leaving his work to a set of conceited + women, and they turning their backs on ignorance, when it comes to their + door! Voluntary subscribers, indeed! I’ve a great mind I’ll be one no + longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, that would not be fair—” began Ethel; but Margaret knew + he would not act on this, squeezed her hand, and silenced her. + </p> + <p> + “One thing I’ve said, and I’ll hold to it,” continued Dr. May; “if they + outvote Wilmot again in your Ladies’ Committee, I’ll have no more to do + with them, as sure as my name’s Dick May. It is a scandal the way things + are done here!” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Richard, who had all the time been standing silent, “Ethel + and I have been thinking, if you approved, whether we could not do + something towards teaching the Cocksmoor children, and breaking them in + for the Sunday-school.” + </p> + <p> + What a bound Ethel’s heart gave, and how full of congratulation and + sympathy was the pressure of Margaret’s hand! + </p> + <p> + “What did you think of doing?” said the doctor. Ethel burned to reply, but + her sister’s hand admonished her to remember her compact. Richard + answered, “We thought of trying to get a room, and going perhaps once or + twice a week to give them a little teaching. It would be little enough, + but it might do something towards civilising them, and making them wish + for more.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you propose to get a room?” + </p> + <p> + “I have reconnoitred, and I think I know a cottage with a tolerable + kitchen, which I dare say we might hire for an afternoon for sixpence.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel, unable to bear it any longer, threw herself forward, and sitting on + the ground at her father’s feet, exclaimed, “Oh, papa! papa! do say we + may!” + </p> + <p> + “What’s all this about?” said the doctor, surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you don’t know how I have thought of it day and night these two + months!” + </p> + <p> + “What! Ethel, have a fancy for two whole months, and the whole house not + hear of it!” said her father, with a rather provoking look of incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “Richard was afraid of bothering you, and wouldn’t let me. But do speak, + papa. May we?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see any objection.” + </p> + <p> + She clasped her hands in ecstasy. “Thank you! thank you, papa! Oh, + Ritchie! Oh, Margaret!” cried she, in a breathless voice of transport. + </p> + <p> + “You have worked yourself up to a fine pass,” said the doctor, patting the + agitated girl fondly as she leaned against his knee. “Remember, slow and + steady.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got Richard to help me,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Sufficient guarantee,” said her father, smiling archly as he looked up to + his son, whose fair face had coloured deep red. “You will keep the Unready + in order, Ritchie.” + </p> + <p> + “He does,” said Margaret; “he has taken her education into his hands, and + I really believe he has taught her to hold up her frock and stick in + pins.” + </p> + <p> + “And to know her right hand from her left, eh, Ethel? Well, you deserve + some credit, then. Suppose we ask Mr. Wilmot to tea, and talk it over.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, papa! When shall it be? To-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you like. I have to go to the town-council meeting, and am not + going into the country, so I shall be in early.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Oh, how very nice!” + </p> + <p> + “And what about cost? Do you expect to rob me?” + </p> + <p> + “If you would help us,” said Ethel, with an odd shy manner; “we meant to + make what we have go as far as may be, but mine is only fifteen and + sixpence.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must make interest with Margaret for the turn-out of my pocket + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, we are very much obliged,” said the brother and sister + earnestly, “that is more than we expected.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! don’t thank too soon. Suppose to-morrow should be a blank day!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it won’t!” said Ethel. “I shall tell Norman to make you go to paying + people.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s avarice!” said the doctor. “But look you here, Ethel, if you’ll + take my advice, you’ll make your bargain for Tuesday. I have a note + appointing me to call at Abbotstoke Grange on Mr. Rivers, at twelve + o’clock, on Tuesday. What do you think of that, Ethel? An old banker, rich + enough for his daughter to curl her hair in bank-notes. If I were you, I’d + make a bargain for him.” + </p> + <p> + “If he had nothing the matter with him, and I only got one guinea out of + him!” + </p> + <p> + “Prudence! Well, it may be wiser.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel ran up to her room, hardly able to believe that the mighty proposal + was made; and it had been so readily granted, that it seemed as if + Richard’s caution had been vain in making such a delay, that even Margaret + had begun to fear that the street of by-and-by was leading to the house of + never. Now, however, it was plain that he had been wise. Opportunity was + everything; at another moment, their father might have been harassed and + oppressed, and unable to give his mind to concerns, which now he could + think of with interest, and Richard could not have caught a more + favourable conjuncture. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was in a wild state of felicity all that evening and the next day, + very unlike her brother, who, dismayed at the open step he had taken, + shrank into himself, and in his shyness dreaded the discussion in the + evening, and would almost have been relieved, if Mr. Wilmot had been + unable to accept the invitation. So quiet and grave was he, that Ethel + could not get him to talk over the matter at all with her, and she was + obliged to bestow all her transports and grand projects on Flora or + Margaret, when she could gain their ears, besides conning them over to + herself, as an accompaniment to her lessons, by which means she tried Miss + Winter’s patience almost beyond measure. But she cared not—she saw a + gathering school and rising church, which eclipsed all thought of present + inattentions and gaucheries. She monopolised Margaret in the twilight, and + rhapsodised to her heart’s content, talking faster and faster, and looking + more and more excited. Margaret began to feel a little overwhelmed, and + while answering “yes” at intervals, was considering whether Ethel had not + been flying about in an absent inconsiderate mood all day, and whether it + would seem unkind to damp her ardour, by giving her a hint that she was + relaxing her guard over herself. Before Margaret had steeled herself, + Ethel was talking of a story she had read, of a place something like + Cocksmoor. Margaret was not ready with her recollection, and Ethel, saying + it was in a magazine in the drawing-room chiffonier, declared she would + fetch it. + </p> + <p> + Margaret knew what it was to expect her visitors to return “in one + moment,” and with a “now-or-never” feeling she began, “Ethel, dear, wait,” + but Ethel was too impetuous to attend. “I’ll be back in a twinkling,” she + called out, and down she flew, in her speed whisking away, without seeing + it, the basket with Margaret’s knitting and all her notes and papers, + which lay scattered on the floor far out of reach, vexing Margaret at + first, and then making her grieve at her own impatient feeling. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was soon in the drawing-room, but the right number of the magazine + was not quickly forthcoming, and in searching she became embarked in + another story. Just then, Aubrey, whose stout legs were apt to carry him + into every part of the house where he was neither expected nor wanted, + marched in at the open door, trying by dint of vehement gestures to make + her understand, in his imperfect speech, something that he wanted. Very + particularly troublesome she thought him, more especially as she could not + make him out, otherwise than that he wanted her to do something with the + newspaper and the fire. She made a boat for him with an old newspaper, a + very hasty and frail performance, and told him to sail it on the carpet, + and be Mr. Ernescliffe going away; and she thought him thus safely + disposed of. Returning to her book and her search, with her face to the + cupboard, and her book held up to catch the light, she was soon lost in + her story, and thought of nothing more till suddenly roused by her + father’s voice in the hall, loud and peremptory with alarm, “Aubrey! put + that down!” She looked, and beheld Aubrey brandishing a great flaming + paper—he dropped it at the exclamation—it fell burning on the + carpet. Aubrey’s white pinafore! Ethel was springing up, but in her + cramped, twisted position she could not do so quickly, and even as he + called, her father strode by her, snatched at Aubrey’s merino frock, which + he crushed over the scarcely lighted pinafore, and trampled out the + flaming paper with his foot. It was a moment of dreadful fright, but the + next assured them that no harm was done. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel!” cried the doctor, “Are you mad? What were you thinking of?” + </p> + <p> + Aubrey, here recollecting himself enough to be frightened at his father’s + voice and manner, burst into loud cries; the doctor pressed him closer on + his breast, caressed and soothed him. Ethel stood by, pale and transfixed + with horror. Her father was more angry with her than she had ever seen + him, and with reason, as she knew, as she smelled the singeing, and saw a + large burnt hole in Aubrey’s pinafore, while the front of his frock was + scorched and brown. Dr. May’s words were not needed, “What could make you + let him?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t see—” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t see! Didn’t look, didn’t think, didn’t care! That’s it, Ethel. + ‘Tis very hard one can’t trust you in a room with the child any more than + the baby himself. His frock perfect tinder! He would have been burned to a + cinder, if I had not come in!” + </p> + <p> + Aubrey roared afresh, and Dr. May, kissing and comforting him, gathered + him up in his left arm, and carried him away, looking back at the door to + say, “There’s no bearing it! I’ll put a stop to all schools and Greek, if + it is to lead to this, and make you good for nothing!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was too much terrified to know where she was, or anything, but that + she had let her little brother run into fearful peril, and grievously + angered her father; she was afraid to follow him, and stood still, + annihilated, and in despair, till roused by his return; then, with a + stifled sob, she exclaimed, “Oh, papa!” and could get no further for a + gush of tears. + </p> + <p> + But the anger of the shock of terror was over, and Dr. May was sorry for + her tears, though still he could not but manifest some displeasure. “Yes, + Ethel,” he said, “it was a frightful thing,” and he could not but shudder + again. “One moment later! It is an escape to be for ever thankful for—poor + little fellow!—but, Ethel, Ethel, do let it be a warning to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hope—I’ll try—” sobbed Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “You have said you would try before.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I have,” said Ethel, choked. “If I could but—” + </p> + <p> + “Poor child,” said Dr. May sadly; then looking earnestly at her, “Ethel, + my dear, I am afraid of its being with you as—as it has been with + me;” he spoke very low, and drew her close to him. “I grew up, thinking my + inbred heedlessness a sort of grace, so to say, rather manly—the + reverse of finikin. I was spoiled as a boy, and my Maggie carried on the + spoiling, by never letting me feel its effects. By the time I had sense + enough to regret this as a fault, I had grown too old for changing of + ingrain, long-nurtured habits—perhaps I never wished it really. You + have seen,” and his voice was nearly inaudible, “what my carelessness has + come to—let that suffice at least, as a lesson that may spare you—what + your father must feel as long as he lives.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed his hand tightly on her shoulder, and left her, without letting + her see his face. Shocked and bewildered, she hurried upstairs to + Margaret. She threw herself on her knees, felt her arms round her, and + heard her kind soothing, and then, in broken words, told how dreadful it + had been, and how kind papa had been, and what he had said, which was now + the uppermost thought. “Oh, Margaret, Margaret, how very terrible it is! + And does papa really think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he does,” whispered Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “How can he, can he bear it!” said Ethel, clasping her hands. “Oh! it is + enough to kill one—I can’t think why it did not!” + </p> + <p> + “He bears it,” said Margaret, “because he is so very good, that help and + comfort do come to him. Dear papa! He bears up because it is right, and + for our sakes, and he has a sort of rest in that perfect love they had for + each other. He knows how she would wish him to cheer up and look to the + end, and support and comfort are given to him, I know they are; but oh, + Ethel! it does make one tremble and shrink, to think what he has been + going through this autumn, especially when I hear him moving about late at + night, and now and then comes a heavy groan—whenever any especial + care has been on his mind.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was in great distress. “To have grieved him again!” said she, “and + just as he seemed better and brighter! Everything I do turns out wrong, + and always will; I can’t do anything well by any chance.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes you can, when you mind what you are about.” + </p> + <p> + “But I never can—I’m like him, every one says so, and he says the + heedlessness is ingrain, and can’t be got rid of.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, I don’t really think he could have told you so.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure he said ingrain.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose it is part of his nature, and that you have inherited it, + but—” Margaret paused, and Ethel exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “He said his was long-nurtured; yes, Margaret, you guessed right, and he + said he could not change it, and no more can I.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, Ethel, you have not had so many years. You are fifteen instead of + forty-six, and it is more a woman’s work than a man’s to be careful. You + need not begin to despair. You were growing much better; Richard said so, + and so did Miss Winter.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the use of it, if in one moment it is as bad as ever? And to-day, + of all days in the year, just when papa had been so very, very kind, and + given me more than I asked.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Ethel, I was thinking whether dear mamma would not say that + was the reason. You were so happy, that perhaps you were thrown off your + guard.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not wonder if that was it,” said Ethel thoughtfully. “You know + it was a sort of probation that Richard put me on. I was to learn to be + steady before he spoke to papa, and now it seemed to be all settled and + right, and perhaps I forgot I was to be careful still.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it was something of the kind. I was a little afraid before, and I + wish I had tried to caution you, but I did not like to seem unkind.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had,” said Ethel. “Dear little Aubrey! Oh, if papa had not + been there! And I cannot think how, as it was, he could contrive to put + the fire out, with his one hand, and not hurt himself. Margaret it was + terrible. How could I mind so little! Did you see how his frock was + singed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa showed it to me. How can we be thankful enough! One thing I + hope, that Aubrey was well frightened, poor little boy.” + </p> + <p> + “I know! I see now!” cried Ethel; “he must have wanted me to make the fire + blaze up, as Richard did one evening when we came in and found it low; I + remember Aubrey clapping his hands and shouting at the flame; but my head + was in that unhappy story, and I never had sense to put the things + together, and reflect that he would try to do it himself. I only wanted to + get him out of my way, dear little fellow. Oh, dear, how bad it was of me! + All from being uplifted, and my head turned, as it used to be when we were + happier. Oh! I wish Mr. Wilmot was not coming!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel sat for a long time with her head hidden in Margaret’s pillows, and + her hand clasped by her good elder sister. At last she looked up and said, + “Oh, Margaret, I am so unhappy. I see the whole meaning of it now. Do you + not? When papa gave his consent at last, I was pleased and set up, and + proud of my plans. I never recollected what a silly, foolish girl I am, + and how unfit. I thought Mr. Wilmot would think great things of it—it + was all wrong and self-satisfied. I never prayed at all that it might turn + out well, and so now it won’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Dearest Ethel, I don’t see that. Perhaps it will do all the better for + your being humbled about it now. If you were wild and high flying, it + would never go right.” + </p> + <p> + “Its hope is in Richard,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “I wish Mr. Wilmot was not coming to-night,” said Ethel again. “It would + serve me right if papa were to say nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel lingered with her sister till Harry and Mary came up with Margaret’s + tea, and summoned her, and she crept downstairs, and entered the room so + quietly, that she was hardly perceived behind her boisterous brother. She + knew her eyes were in no presentable state, and cast them down, and shrank + back as Mr. Wilmot shook her hand and greeted her kindly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot had been wont to come to tea whenever he had anything to say to + Dr. or Mrs. May, which was about once in ten or twelve days. He was Mary’s + godfather, and their most intimate friend in the town, and he had often + been with them, both as friend and clergyman, through their trouble—no + later than Christmas Day, he had come to bring the feast of that day to + Margaret in her sick-room. Indeed, it had been chiefly for the sake of the + Mays that he had resolved to spend the holidays at Stoneborough, taking + the care of Abbotstoke, while his brother, the vicar, went to visit their + father. This was, however, the first time he had come in his old familiar + way to spend an evening, and there was something in the resumption of + former habits that painfully marked the change. + </p> + <p> + Ethel, on coming in, found Flora making tea, her father leaning back in + his great chair in silence, Richard diligently cutting bread, and Blanche + sitting on Mr. Wilmot’s knee, chattering fast and confidentially. Flora + made Harry dispense the cups, and called every one to their places; Ethel + timidly glanced at her father’s face, as he rose and came into the light. + She thought the lines and hollows were more marked than ever, and that he + looked fatigued and mournful, and she felt cut to the heart; but he began + to exert himself, and to make conversation, not, however, about Cocksmoor, + but asking Mr. Wilmot what his brother thought of his new squire, Mr. + Rivers. + </p> + <p> + “He likes him very much,” said Mr. Wilmot. “He is a very pleasing person, + particularly kind-hearted and gentle, and likely to do a great deal for + the parish. They have been giving away beef and blankets at a great rate + this Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + “What family is there?” asked Flora. + </p> + <p> + “One daughter, about Ethel’s age, is there with her governess. He has been + twice married, and the first wife left a son, who is in the Dragoons, I + believe. This girl’s mother was Lord Cosham’s daughter.” + </p> + <p> + So the talk lingered on, without much interest or life. It was rather + keeping from saying nothing than conversation, and no one was without the + sensation that she was missing, round whom all had been free and joyous—not + that she had been wont to speak much herself, but nothing would go on + smoothly or easily without her. So long did this last, that Ethel began to + think her father meant to punish her by not beginning the subject that + night, and though she owned that she deserved it, she could not help being + very much disappointed. + </p> + <p> + At length, however, her father began: “We wanted you to talk over a scheme + that these young ones have been concocting. You see, I am obliged to keep + Richard at home this next term—it won’t do to have no one in the + house to carry poor Margaret. We can’t do without him anyway, so he and + Ethel have a scheme of seeing what can be done for that wretched place, + Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Mr. Wilmot, brightening and looking interested. “It is + sadly destitute. It would be a great thing if anything could be done for + it. You have brought some children to school already, I think. I saw some + rough-looking boys, who said they came from Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + This embarked the doctor in the history of the ladies being too fine to + teach the poor Cocksmoor girls, which he told with kindling vehemence and + indignation, growing more animated every moment, as he stormed over the + wonted subject of the bad system of management—ladies’ committee, + negligent incumbent, insufficient clergy, misappropriated tithes—while + Mr. Wilmot, who had mourned over it, within himself, a hundred times + already, and was doing a curate’s work on sufferance, with no pay, and + little but mistrust from Mr. Ramsden, and absurd false reports among the + more foolish part of the town, sat listening patiently, glad to hear the + doctor in his old strain, though it was a hopeless matter for discussion, + and Ethel dreaded that the lamentation would go on till bedtime, and + Cocksmoor be quite forgotten. + </p> + <p> + After a time they came safely back to the project, and Richard was called + on to explain. Ethel left it all to him, and he with rising colour, and + quiet, unhesitating, though diffident manner, detailed designs that showed + themselves to have been well matured. Mr. Wilmot heard, cordially + approved, and, as all agreed that no time was to be lost, while the + holidays lasted, he undertook to speak to Mr. Ramsden on the subject the + next morning, and if his consent to their schemes could be gained, to come + in the afternoon to walk with Richard and Ethel to Cocksmoor, and set + their affairs in order. All the time Ethel said not a word, except when + referred to by her brother; but when Mr. Wilmot took leave, he shook her + hand warmly, as if he was much pleased with her. “Ah!” she thought, “if he + knew how ill I have behaved! It is all show and hollowness with me.” + </p> + <p> + She did not know that Mr. Wilmot thought her silence one of the best signs + for the plan, nor how much more doubtful he would have thought her + perseverance, if he had seen her wild and vehement. As it was, he was very + much pleased, and when the doctor came out with him into the hall, he + could not help expressing his satisfaction in Richard’s well-judged and + sensibly-described project. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay!” said the doctor, “there’s much more in the boy than I used to + think. He’s a capital fellow, and more like his mother than any of them.” + </p> + <p> + “He is,” said Mr. Wilmot; “there was a just, well-weighed sense and + soberness in his plans that put me in mind of her every moment.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May gave his hand a squeeze, full of feeling, and went up to tell + Margaret. She, on the first opportunity, told Richard, and made him + happier than he had been for months, not so much in Mr. Wilmot’s words, as + in his father’s assent to, and pleasure in them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Pitch thy behaviour low, thy projects high, + So shalt thou humble and magnanimous be; + Sink not in spirit; who aimeth at the sky + Shoots higher much than he that means a tree. + A grain of glory mixed with humbleness, + Cures both a fever and lethargicness. + HERBERT. +</pre> + <p> + “Norman, do you feel up to a long day’s work?” said Dr. May, on the + following morning. “I have to set off after breakfast to see old Mrs. + Gould, and to be at Abbotstoke Grange by twelve; then I thought of going + to Fordholm, and getting Miss Cleveland to give us some luncheon—there + are some poor people on the way to look at; and that girl on Far-view + Hill; and there’s another place to call in at coming home. You’ll have a + good deal of sitting in the carriage, holding Whitefoot, so if you think + you shall be cold or tired, don’t scruple to say so, and I’ll take Adams + to drive me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” said Norman briskly. “This frost is famous.” + </p> + <p> + “It will turn to rain, I expect—it is too white,” said the doctor, + looking out at the window. “How will you get to Cocksmoor, good people?” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel won’t believe it rains unless it is very bad,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + Norman set out with his father, and prosperously performed the expedition, + arriving at Abbotstoke Grange at the appointed hour. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said the doctor, as the iron gates of ornamental scrollwork were + swung back, “there’s a considerable change in this place since I was here + last. Well kept up indeed! Not a dead leaf left under the old walnuts, and + the grass looks as smooth as if they had a dozen gardeners rolling it + every day.” + </p> + <p> + “And the drive,” said Norman, “more like a garden walk than a road! But + oh! what a splendid cedar!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it! I remember that as long as I remember anything. All this fine + rolling of turf, and trimming up of the place, does not make much + difference to you, old fellow, does it? You don’t look altered since I saw + you last, when old Jervis was letting the place go to rack and ruin. So + they have a new entrance—very handsome conservatory—flowers—the + banker does things in style. There,” as Norman helped him off with his + plaid, “wrap yourself up well, don’t get cold. The sun is gone in, and I + should not wonder if the rain were coming after all. I’ll not be longer + than I can help.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May disappeared from his son’s sight through the conservatory, where, + through the plate-glass, the exotics looked so fresh and perfumy, that + Norman almost fancied that the scent reached him. “How much poor Margaret + would enjoy one of those camellias,” thought he, “and these people have + bushels of them for mere show. If I were papa, I should be tempted to be + like Beauty’s father, and carry off one. How she would admire it!” + </p> + <p> + Norman had plenty of time to meditate on the camellias, and then to turn + and speculate on the age of the cedar, whether it could have been planted + by the monks of Stoneborough Abbey, to whom the Grange had belonged, + brought from Lebanon by a pilgrim, perhaps; and then he tried to guess at + the longevity of cedars, and thought of asking Margaret, the botanist of + the family. Then he yawned, moved the horse a little about, opined that + Mr. Rivers must be very prosy, or have some abstruse complaint, considered + the sky, and augured rain, buttoned another button of his rough coat, and + thought of Miss Cleveland’s dinner. Then he thought there was a very sharp + wind, and drove about till he found a sheltered place on the lee side of + the great cedar, looked up at it, and thought it would be a fine subject + for verses, if Mr. Wilmot knew of it, and then proceeded to consider what + he should make of them. + </p> + <p> + In the midst he was suddenly roused by the deep-toned note of a dog, and + beheld a large black Newfoundland dog leaping about the horse in great + indignation. “Rollo! Rollo!” called a clear young voice, and he saw two + ladles returning from a walk. Rollo, at the first call, galloped back to + his mistress, and was evidently receiving an admonition, and promising + good behaviour. The two ladies entered the house, while he lay down on the + step, with his lion-like paw hanging down, watching Norman with a + brilliant pair of hazel eyes. Norman, after a little more wondering when + Mr. Rivers would have done with his father, betook himself to civil + demonstrations to the creature, who received them with dignity, and + presently, after acknowledging with his tail, various whispers of “Good + old fellow,” and “Here, old Rollo!” having apparently satisfied himself + that the young gentleman was respectable, he rose, and vouchsafed to stand + up with his forepaws in the gig, listening amiably to Norman’s delicate + flatteries. Norman even began to hope to allure him into jumping on the + seat: but a great bell rang, and Rollo immediately turned round, and + dashed off, at full speed, to some back region of the house. “So, old + fellow, you know what the dinner-bell means,” thought Norman. “I hope Mr. + Rivers is hungry too. Miss Cleveland will have eaten up her whole + luncheon, if this old bore won’t let my father go soon! I hope he is + desperately ill—‘tis his only excuse! Heigh ho! I must jump out to + warm my feet soon! There, there’s a drop of rain! Well, there’s no end to + it! I wonder what Ethel is doing about Cocksmoor! It is setting in for a + wet afternoon!” and Norman disconsolately put up his umbrella. + </p> + <p> + At last Dr. May and another gentleman were seen in the conservatory, and + Norman gladly proceeded to clear the seat; but Dr. May called out, “Jump + out, Norman, Mr. Rivers is so kind as to ask us to stay to luncheon.” + </p> + <p> + With boyish shrinking from strangers, Norman privately wished Mr. Rivers + at Jericho, as he gave the reins to a servant, and entered the + conservatory, where a kindly hand was held out to him by a gentleman of + about fifty, with a bald smooth forehead, soft blue eyes, and gentle + pleasant face. “Is this your eldest son?” said he, turning to Dr. May—and + the manner of both was as if they were already well acquainted. “No, this + is my second. The eldest is not quite such a long-legged fellow,” said Dr. + May. And then followed the question addressed to Norman himself, where he + was at school. + </p> + <p> + “At Stoneborough,” said Norman, a little amused at the thought how angry + Ethel and Harry would be that the paragraph of the county paper, where “N. + W. May” was recorded as prizeman and foremost in the examination, had not + penetrated even to Abbotstoke Grange, or rather to its owner’s memory. + </p> + <p> + However, his father could not help adding, “He is the head of the school—a + thing we Stoneborough men think much of.” + </p> + <p> + This, and Mr. Rivers’s civil answer, made Norman so hot, that he did not + notice much in passing through a hall full of beautiful vases, stuffed + birds, busts, etc., tastefully arranged, and he did not look up till they + were entering a handsome dining-room, where a small square table was laid + out for luncheon near a noble fire. + </p> + <p> + The two ladies were there, and Mr. Rivers introduced them as his daughter + and Mrs. Larpent. It was the most luxurious meal that Norman had ever + seen, the plate, the porcelain, and all the appointments of the table so + elegant, and the viands, all partaking of the Christmas character, and of + a recherche delicate description quite new to him. He had to serve as his + father’s right hand, and was so anxious to put everything as Dr. May liked + it, and without attracting notice, that he hardly saw or listened till Dr. + May began to admire a fine Claude on the opposite wall, and embarked in a + picture discussion. The doctor had much taste for art, and had made the + most of his opportunities of seeing paintings during his time of study at + Paris, and in a brief tour to Italy. Since that time, few good pictures + had come in his way, and these were a great pleasure to him, while Mr. + Rivers, a regular connoisseur, was delighted to meet with one who could so + well appreciate them. Norman perceived how his father was enjoying the + conversation, and was much interested both by the sight of the first fine + paintings he had ever seen, and by the talk about their merits; but the + living things in the room had more of his attention and observation, + especially the young lady who sat at the head of the table; a girl about + his own age; she was on a very small scale, and seemed to him like a + fairy, in the airy lightness and grace of her movements, and the blithe + gladsomeness of her gestures and countenance. Form and features, though + perfectly healthful and brisk, had the peculiar finish and delicacy of a + miniature painting, and were enhanced by the sunny glance of her dark soft + smiling eyes. Her hair was in black silky braids, and her dress, with its + gaiety of well-assorted colour, was positively refreshing to his eye, so + long accustomed to the deep mourning of his sisters. A little Italian + greyhound, perfectly white, was at her side, making infinite variations of + the line of beauty and grace, with its elegant outline, and S-like tail, + as it raised its slender nose in hopes of a fragment of bread which she + from time to time dispensed to it. + </p> + <p> + Luncheon over, Mr. Rivers asked Dr. May to step into his library, and + Norman guessed that they had been talking all this time, and had never + come to the medical opinion. However, a good meal and a large fire made a + great difference in his toleration, and it was so new a scene, that he had + no objection to a prolonged waiting, especially when Mrs. Larpent said, in + a very pleasant tone, “Will you come into the drawing-room with us?” + </p> + <p> + He felt somewhat as if he was walking in enchanted ground as he followed + her into the large room, the windows opening into the conservatory, the + whole air fragrant with flowers, the furniture and ornaments so exquisite + of their kind, and all such a fit scene for the beautiful little damsel, + who, with her slender dog by her side, tripped on demurely, and rather + shyly, but with a certain skipping lightness in her step. A very tall + overgrown schoolboy did Norman feel himself for one bashful moment, when + he found himself alone with the two ladies; but he was ready to be set at + ease by Mrs. Larpent’s good-natured manner, when she said something of + Rollo’s discourtesy. He smiled, and answered that he had made great + friends with the fine old dog, and spoke of his running off to the dinner, + at which little Miss Rivers laughed, and looked delighted, and began to + tell of Rollo’s perfections and intelligence. Norman ventured to inquire + the name of the little Italian, and was told it was Nipen, because it had + once stolen a cake, much like the wind-spirit in Feats on the Fiord. Its + beauty and tricks were duly displayed, and a most beautiful Australian + parrot was exhibited, Mrs. Larpent taking full interest in the talk, in so + lively and gentle a manner, and she and her pretty pupil evidently on such + sister-like terms, that Norman could hardly believe her to be the + governess, when he thought of Miss Winter. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rivers took up some brown leaves which she was cutting out with + scissors, and shaping. “Our holiday work,” said Mrs. Larpent, in answer to + the inquiring look of Norman’s eyes. “Meta has been making a drawing for + her papa, and is framing it in leather-work. Have you ever seen any?” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” and Norman looked eagerly, asking questions, and watching while + Miss Rivers cut out her ivy leaf and marked its veins, and showed how she + copied it from nature. He thanked her, saying, “I wanted to learn all + about it, for I thought it would be such nice work for my eldest sister.” + </p> + <p> + A glance of earnest interest from little Meta’s bright eyes at her + governess, and Mrs. Larpent, in a kind, soft tone that quite gained his + heart, asked, “Is she the invalid?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norman. “New fancy work is a great gain to her.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Larpent’s sympathetic questions, and Meta’s softening eyes, gradually + drew from him a great deal about Margaret’s helpless state, and her + patience, and capabilities, and how every one came to her with all their + cares; and Norman, as he spoke, mentally contrasted the life, untouched by + trouble and care, led by the fair girl before him, with that atmosphere of + constant petty anxieties round her namesake’s couch, at years so nearly + the same. + </p> + <p> + “How very good she must be,” said little Meta, quickly and softly; and a + tear was sparkling on her eyelashes. + </p> + <p> + “She is indeed,” said Norman earnestly. “I don’t know what papa would do + but for her.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Larpent asked kind questions whether his father’s arm was very + painful, and the hopes of its cure; and he felt as if she was a great + friend already. Thence they came to books. Norman had not read for months + past, but it happened that Meta was just now reading Woodstock, with which + he was of course familiar; and both grew eager in discussing that and + several others. Of one, Meta spoke in such terms of delight, that Norman + thought it had been very stupid of him to let it lie on the table for the + last fortnight without looking into it. + </p> + <p> + He was almost sorry to see his father and Mr. Rivers come in, and hear the + carriage ordered, but they were not off yet, though the rain was now only + Scotch mist. Mr. Rivers had his most choice little pictures still to + display, his beautiful early Italian masters, finished like illuminations, + and over these there was much lingering and admiring. Meta had whispered + something to her governess, who smiled, and advanced to Norman. “Meta + wishes to know if your sister would like to have a few flowers?” said she. + </p> + <p> + No sooner said than done; the door into the conservatory was opened, and + Meta, cutting sprays of beautiful geranium, delicious heliotrope, fragrant + calycanthus, deep blue tree violet, and exquisite hothouse ferns; perfect + wonders to Norman, who, at each addition to the bouquet, exclaimed by + turns, “Oh, thank you!” and, “How she will like it!” + </p> + <p> + Her father reached a magnolia blossom from on high, and the quick warm + grateful emotion trembled in Dr. May’s features and voice, as he said, “It + is very kind in you; you have given my poor girl a great treat. Thank you + with all my heart.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret Rivers cast down her eyes, half smiled, and shrank back, thinking + she had never felt anything like the left-handed grasp, so full of warmth + and thankfulness. It gave her confidence to venture on the one question on + which she was bent. Her father was in the hall, showing Norman his Greek + nymph; and lifting her eyes to Dr. May’s face, then casting them down, she + coloured deeper than ever, as she said, in a stammering whisper, “Oh, + please—if you would tell me—do you think—is papa very + ill?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May answered in his softest, most reassuring tones: “You need not be + alarmed about him, I assure you. You must keep him from too much + business,” he added, smiling; “make him ride with you, and not let him + tire himself, and I am sure you can be his best doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you think,” said Meta, earnestly looking up—“do you think he + will be quite well again?” + </p> + <p> + “You must not expect doctors to be absolute oracles,” said he. “I will + tell you what I told him—I hardly think his will ever be sound + health again, but I see no reason why he should not have many years of + comfort, and there is no cause for you to disquiet yourself on his account—you + have only to be careful of him.” + </p> + <p> + Meta tried to say “thank you,” but not succeeding, looked imploringly at + her governess, who spoke for her. “Thank you, it is a great relief to have + an opinion, for we were not at all satisfied about Mr. Rivers.” + </p> + <p> + A few words more, and Meta was skipping about like a sprite finding a + basket for the flowers—she had another shake of the hand, another + grateful smile, and “thank you,” from the doctor; and then, as the + carriage disappeared, Mrs. Larpent exclaimed, “What a very nice + intelligent boy that was.” + </p> + <p> + “Particularly gentlemanlike,” said Mr. Rivers. “Very clever—the head + of the school, as his father tells me—and so modest and unassuming—though + I see his father is very proud of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am sure they are so fond of each other,” said Meta: “didn’t you see + his attentive ways to his father at luncheon! And, papa, I am sure you + must like Dr. May, Mr. Wilmot’s doctor, as much as I said you would.” + </p> + <p> + “He is the most superior man I have met with for a long time,” said Mr. + Rivers. “It is a great acquisition to find a man of such taste and + acquirements in this country neighbourhood, when there is not another who + can tell a Claude from a Poussin. I declare, when once we began talking, + there was no leaving off—I have not met a person of so much + conversation since I left town. I thought you would like to see him, + Meta.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I shall know the Miss Mays some time or other.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the prettiest little fairy I ever did see!” was Dr. May’s remark, + as Norman drove from the door. + </p> + <p> + “How good-natured they are!” said Norman; “I just said something about + Margaret, and she gave me all these flowers. How Margaret will be + delighted! I wish the girls could see it all!” + </p> + <p> + “So you got on well with the ladies, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “They were very kind to me. It was very pleasant!” said Norman, with a + tone of enjoyment that did his father’s heart good. + </p> + <p> + “I was glad you should come in. Such a curiosity shop is a sight, and + those pictures were some of them well worth seeing. That was a splendid + Titian.” + </p> + <p> + “That cast of the Pallas of the Parthenon—how beautiful it was—I + knew it from the picture in Smith’s dictionary. Mr. Rivers said he would + show me all his antiques if you would bring me again.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw he liked your interest in them. He is a good, kind-hearted + dilettante sort of old man; he has got all the talk of the literary, + cultivated society in London, and must find it dullish work here.” + </p> + <p> + “You liked him, didn’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “He is very pleasant; I found he knew my old friend, Benson, whom I had + not seen since we were at Cambridge together, and we got on that and other + matters; London people have an art of conversation not learned here, and I + don’t know how the time slipped away; but you must have been tolerably + tired of waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to signify,” said Norman. “I only began to think he must be very ill; + I hope there is not much the matter with him.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say. I am afraid there is organic disease, but I think it may be + kept quiet a good while yet, and he may have a pleasant life for some time + to come, arranging his prints, and petting his pretty daughter. He has + plenty to fall back upon.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you go there again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, next week. I am glad of it. I shall like to have another look at + that little Madonna of his—it is the sort of picture that does one + good to carry away in one’s eye. Whay! Stop. There’s an old woman in here. + It is too late for Fordholm, but these cases won’t wait.” + </p> + <p> + He went into the cottage, and soon returned, saying, “Fine new blankets, + and a great kettle of soup, and such praises of the ladies at the Grange!” + And, at the next house, it was the same story. “Well, ‘tis no mockery now + to tell the poor creatures they want nourishing food. Slices of meat and + bottles of port wine rain down on Abbotstoke.” + </p> + <p> + A far more talkative journey than usual ensued; the discussion of the + paintings and antiques was almost equally delightful to the father and + son, and lasted till, about a mile from Stoneborough, they descried three + figures in the twilight. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! How are you, Wilmot? So you braved the rain, Ethel. Jump in,” called + the doctor, as Norman drew up. + </p> + <p> + “I shall crowd you—I shall hurt your arm, papa; thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you won’t—jump in—there’s room for three thread-papers in + one gig. Why, Wilmot, your brother has a very jewel of a squire! How did + you fare?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well on the whole,” was Mr. Wllmot’s answer, while Ethel scrambled + in, and tried to make herself small, an art in which she was not very + successful; and Norman gave an exclamation of horrified warning, as she + was about to step into the flower-basket; then she nearly tumbled out + again in dismay, and was relieved to find herself safely wedged in, + without having done any harm, while her father called out to Mr. Wilmot, + as they started, “I say! You are coming back to tea with us.” + </p> + <p> + That cheerful tone, and the kindness to herself, were a refreshment and + revival to Ethel, who was still sobered and shocked by her yesterday’s + adventure, and by the sense of her father’s sorrowful displeasure. + Expecting further to be scolded for getting in so awkwardly, she did not + venture to volunteer anything, and even when he kindly said, “I hope you + were prosperous in your expedition,” she only made answer, in a very grave + voice, “Yes, papa, we have taken a very nice tidy room.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you pay for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Fourpence for each time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here’s for you,” said Dr. May. “It is only two guineas to-day; that + banker at the Grange beguiled us of our time, but you had better close the + bargain for him, Ethel—he will be a revenue for you, for this winter + at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, papa,” was all Ethel could say; overpowered by his + kindness, and more repressed by what she felt so unmerited, than she would + have been by coldness, she said few words, and preferred listening to + Norman, who began to describe their adventures at the Grange. + </p> + <p> + All her eagerness revived, however, as she sprang out of the carriage, + full of tidings for Margaret; and it was almost a race between her and + Norman to get upstairs, and unfold their separate budgets. + </p> + <p> + Margaret’s lamp had just been lighted, when they made their entrance, + Norman holding the flowers on high. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how beautiful! how delicious! For me? Where did you get them?” + </p> + <p> + “From Abbotstoke Grange; Miss Rivers sent them to you.” + </p> + <p> + “How very kind! What a lovely geranium, and oh, that fern! I never saw + anything so choice. How came she to think of me?” + </p> + <p> + “They asked me in because it rained, and she was making the prettiest + things, leather leaves and flowers for picture frames. I thought it was + work that would just suit you, and learned how to do it. That made them + ask about you, and it ended by her sending you this nosegay.” + </p> + <p> + “How very kind everybody is! Well, Ethel, are you come home too?” + </p> + <p> + “Papa picked me up. Oh, Margaret, we have found such a nice room, a clean + sanded kitchen—” + </p> + <p> + “You never saw such a conservatory—” + </p> + <p> + “And it is to be let to us for fourpence a time—” + </p> + <p> + “The house is full of beautiful things, pictures and statues. Only think + of a real Titian, and a cast of the Apollo!” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty children to begin with, and Richard is going to make some forms.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Rivers is going to show me all his casts.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is he? But only think how lucky we were to find such a nice woman; + Mr. Wilmot was so pleased with her.” + </p> + <p> + Norman found one story at a time was enough, and relinquished the field, + contenting himself with silently helping Margaret to arrange the flowers, + holding the basket for her, and pleased with her gestures of admiration. + Ethel went on with her history. “The first place we thought of would not + do at all; the woman said she would not take half-a-crown a week to have a + lot of children stabbling about, as she called it; so we went to another + house, and there was a very nice woman indeed, Mrs. Green, with one little + boy, whom she wanted to send to school, only it is too far. She says she + always goes to church at Fordholm because it is nearer, and she is quite + willing to let us have the room. So we settled it, and next Friday we are + to begin. Papa has given us two guineas, and that will pay for, let me + see, a hundred and twenty-six times, and Mr. Wilmot is going to give us + some books, and Ritchie will print some alphabets. We told a great many of + the people, and they are so glad. Old Granny Hall said, ‘Well, I never!’ + and told the girls they must be as good as gold now the gentlefolks was + coming to teach them. Mr. Wilmot is coming with us every Friday as long as + the holidays last.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel departed on her father’s coming in to ask Margaret if she would like + to have a visit from Mr. Wilmot. She enjoyed this very much, and he sat + there nearly an hour, talking of many matters, especially the Cocksmoor + scheme, on which she was glad to hear his opinion at first hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad you think well of it,” she said. “It is most desirable + that something should be done for those poor people, and Richard would + never act rashly; but I have longed for advice whether it was right to + promote Ethel’s undertaking. I suppose Richard told you how bent on it she + was, long before papa was told of it.” + </p> + <p> + “He said it was her great wish, and had been so for a long time past.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret, in words more adequate to express the possession the project had + gained of Ethel’s ardent mind, explained the whole history of it. “I do + believe she looks on it as a sort of call,” said she, “and I have felt as + if I ought not to hinder her, and yet I did not know whether it was right, + at her age, to let her undertake so much.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Mr. Wilmot, “but, from what I have seen of Ethel, I + should think you had decided rightly. There seems to me to be such a + spirit of energy in her, that if she does not act, she will either + speculate and theorise, or pine and prey on herself. I do believe that + hard homely work, such as this school-keeping, is the best outlet for what + might otherwise run to extravagance—more especially as you say the + hope of it has already been an incentive to improvement in home duties.” + </p> + <p> + “That I am sure it has,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Moreover,” said Mr. Wilmot, “I think you were quite right in thinking + that to interfere with such a design was unsafe. I do believe that a great + deal of harm is done by prudent friends, who dread to let young people do + anything out of the common way, and so force their aspirations to ferment + and turn sour, for want of being put to use.” + </p> + <p> + “Still girls are told they ought to wait patiently, and not to be eager + for self-imposed duties.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not saying that it is not the appointed discipline for the girls + themselves,” said Mr. Wilmot. “If they would submit, and do their best, it + would doubtless prove the most beneficial thing for them; but it is a + trial in which they often fail, and I had rather not be in the place of + such friends.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a great puzzle!” said Margaret, sighing. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I dare say you are often perplexed,” said her friend kindly. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am. There are so many little details that I cannot be always + teasing papa with, and yet which I do believe form the character more than + the great events, and I never know whether I act for the best. And there + are so many of us, so many duties, I cannot half attend to any. Lately, I + have been giving up almost everything to keep this room quiet for Norman + in the morning, because he was so much harassed and hurt by bustle and + confusion, and I found to-day that things have gone wrong in consequence.” + </p> + <p> + “You must do the best you can, and try to trust that while you work in the + right spirit, your failures will be compensated,” said Mr. Wilmot. “It is + a hard trial.” + </p> + <p> + “I like your understanding it,” said Margaret, smiling sadly. “I don’t + know whether it is silly, but I don’t like to be pitied for the wrong + thing. My being so helpless is what every one laments over; but, after + all, that is made up to me by the petting and kindness I get from all of + them; but it is the being mistress of the house, and having to settle for + every one, without knowing whether I do right or wrong, that is my + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure, however, that it is right to call it a trouble, though it + is a trial.” + </p> + <p> + “I see what you mean,” said Margaret. “I ought to be thankful. I know it + is an honour, and I am quite sure I should be grieved if they did not all + come to me and consult me as they do. I had better not have complained, + and yet I am glad I did, for I like you to understand my difficulties.” + </p> + <p> + “And, indeed, I wish to enter into them, and do or say anything in my + power to help you. But I don’t know anything that can be of so much + comfort as the knowledge that He who laid the burden on you, will help you + to bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Margaret, pausing; and then, with a sweet look, though a heavy + sigh, she said, “It is very odd how things turn out! I always had a + childish fancy that I would be useful and important, but I little thought + how it would be! However, as long as Richard is in the house, I always + feel secure about the others, and I shall soon be downstairs myself. Don’t + you think dear papa in better spirits?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so to-day,”—and here the doctor returned, talking of + Abbotstoke Grange, where he had certainly been much pleased. “It was a + lucky chance,” he said, “that they brought Norman in. It was exactly what + I wanted to rouse and interest him, and he took it all in so well, that I + am sure they were pleased with him. I thought he looked a very lanky + specimen of too much leg and arm when I called him in, but he has such + good manners, and is so ready and understanding, that they could not help + liking him. It was fortunate I had him instead of Richard—Ritchie is + a very good fellow, certainly, but he had rather look at a steam-engine, + any day, than at Raphael himself.” + </p> + <p> + Norman had his turn by-and-by. He came up after tea, reporting that papa + was fast asleep in his chair, and the others would go on about Cocksmoor + till midnight, if they were let alone; and made up for his previous + yielding to Ethel, by giving, with much animation, and some excitement, a + glowing description of the Grange, so graphic, that Margaret said she + could almost fancy she had been there. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret, I wonder if you ever will! I would give something for you + to see the beautiful conservatory. It is a real bower for a maiden of + romance, with its rich green fragrance in the midst of winter. It is like + a picture in a dream. One could imagine it a fairy land, where no care, or + grief, or weariness could come, all choice beauty and sweetness waiting on + the creature within. I can hardly believe that it is a real place, and + that I have seen it.” + </p> + <p> + “Though you have brought these pretty tokens that your fairy is as good as + she is fair!” said Margaret, smiling. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + EVANS. Peace your tattlings. What is fair, William? + WILLIAM. PULCHER. + QUICKLY. Poulcats! there are fairer things than poulcats sure! + EVANS. I pray you have your remembrance, child, accusative + HING HANG HOG. + QUICKLY. HANG HOG is Latin for bacon, I warrant you. + SHAKESPEARE. +</pre> + <p> + In a large family it must often happen, that since every member of it + cannot ride the same hobby, nor at the same time, their several steeds + must sometimes run counter to each other; and so Ethel found it, one + morning when Miss Winter, having a bad cold, had given her an unwonted + holiday. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot had sent a large parcel of books for her to choose from for + Cocksmoor, but this she could not well do without consultation. The + multitude bewildered her, she was afraid of taking too many or too few, + and the being brought to these practical details made her sensible that + though her schemes were very grand and full for future doings, they passed + very lightly over the intermediate ground. The Paulo post fulurum was a + period much more developed in her imagination than the future, that the + present was flowing into. + </p> + <p> + Where was her coadjutor, Richard? Writing notes for papa, and not to be + disturbed. She had better have waited tranquilly, but this would not suit + her impatience, and she ran up to Margaret’s room. There she found a great + display of ivy leaves, which Norman, who had been turning half the shops + in the town upside down in search of materials, was instructing her to + imitate in leather-work—a regular mania with him, and apparently the + same with Margaret. + </p> + <p> + In came Ethel. “Oh, Margaret, will you look at these ‘First Truths?’ Do + you think they would be easy enough? Shall I take some of the Parables and + Miracles at once, or content myself with the book about ‘Jane Sparks?’” + </p> + <p> + “There’s some very easy reading in ‘Jane Sparks’, isn’t there? I would not + make the little books from the New Testament too common.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, that leaf has five points,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I bring you up ‘Jane Sparks’ to see? Because then you can judge,” + said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “There, Norman, is that right?—what a beauty! I should like to look + over them by-and-by, dear Ethel, very much.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel gazed and went away, more put out than was usual with her. “When + Margaret has a new kind of fancy work,” she thought, “she cares for + nothing else! as if my poor children did not signify more than trumpery + leather leaves!” She next met Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Flora, see here, what a famous parcel of books Mr. Wilmot has sent us + to choose from.” + </p> + <p> + “All those!” said Flora, turning them over as they lay heaped on the + drawing-room sofa; “what a confusion!” + </p> + <p> + “See, such a parcel of reading books. I want to know what you think of + setting them up with ‘Jane Sparks’, as it is week-day teaching.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be very tired of hearing those spelled over for ever; they have + some nicer books at the national school.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the name of them? Do you see any of them here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t think I do, but I can’t wait to look now. I must write some + letters. You had better put them together a little. If you were to sort + them, you would know what is there. Now, what a mess they are in.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel could not deny it, and began to deal them out in piles, looking + somewhat more fitting, but still felt neglected and aggrieved, at no one + being at leisure but Harry, who was not likely to be of any use to her. + </p> + <p> + Presently she heard the study door open, and hoped; but though it was + Richard who entered the room, he was followed by Tom, and each held + various books that boded little good to her. Miss Winter had, much to her + own satisfaction, been relieved from the charge of Tom, whose lessons + Richard had taken upon himself; and thus Ethel had heard so little about + them for a long time past, that even in her vexation and desire to have + them over, she listened with interest, desirous to judge what sort of + place Tom might be likely to take in school. + </p> + <p> + She did not perceive that this made Richard nervous and uneasy. He had a + great dislike to spectators of Latin lessons; he never had forgotten an + unlucky occasion, some years back, when his father was examining him in + the Georgics, and he, dull by nature, and duller by confusion and + timidity, had gone on rendering word for word—enim for, seges a + crop, lini of mud, urit burns, campum the field, avenae a crop of pipe, + urit burns it; when Norman and Ethel had first warned him of the beauty of + his translation by an explosion of laughing, when his father had shut the + book with a bounce, shaken his head in utter despair, and told him to give + up all thoughts of doing anything—and when Margaret had cried with + vexation. Since that time, he had never been happy when any one was in + earshot of a lesson; but to-day he had no escape—Harry lay on the + rug reading, and Ethel sat forlorn over her books on the sofa. Tom, + however, was bright enough, declined his Greek nouns irreproachably, and + construed his Latin so well, that Ethel could not help putting in a word + or two of commendation, and auguring the third form. “Do let him off the + parsing, Ritchie,” said she coaxingly—“he has said it so well, and I + want you so much.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I must not,” said Richard; who, to her surprise, did not look + pleased or satisfied with the prosperous translation; “but come, Tom, you + shan’t have many words, if you really know them.” + </p> + <p> + Tom twisted and looked rather cross, but when asked to parse the word + viribus, answered readily and correctly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, only two more—affuit?” + </p> + <p> + “Third person singular, praeter perfect tense of the verb affo, affis, + affui, affere,” gabbled off Tom with such confidence, that though Ethel + gave an indignant jump, Richard was almost startled into letting it pass, + and disbelieving himself. He remonstrated in a somewhat hesitating voice. + “Did you find that in the dictionary?” said he; “I thought affui came from + adsum.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to be sure, stupid fool of a word, so it does!” said Tom hastily. “I + had forgot—adsum, ades, affui, adesse.” + </p> + <p> + Richard said no more, but proposed the word oppositus. + </p> + <p> + “Adjective.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was surprised, for she remembered that it was, in this passage, part + of a passive verb, which Tom had construed correctly, “it was objected,” + and she had thought this very creditable to him, whereas he now evidently + took it for opposite; however, on Richard’s reading the line, he corrected + himself and called it a participle, but did not commit himself further, + till asked for its derivation. + </p> + <p> + “From oppositor.” + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” cried Harry, who hitherto had been abstracted in his book, but + now turned, raised himself on his elbow, and, at the blunder, shook his + thick yellow locks, and showed his teeth like a young lion. + </p> + <p> + “No, now, Tom, pay attention,” said Richard resignedly. “If you found out + its meaning, you must have seen its derivation.” + </p> + <p> + “Oppositus,” said Tom, twisting his fingers, and gazing first at Ethel, + then at Harry, in hopes of being prompted, then at the ceiling and floor, + the while he drawled out the word with a whine, “why, oppositus from + op-posor.” + </p> + <p> + “A poser! ain’t it?” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t, Harry, you distract him,” said Richard. “Come, Tom, say at once + whether you know it or not—it is of no use to invent.” + </p> + <p> + “From op-” and a mumble. + </p> + <p> + “What? I don’t hear—op—” + </p> + <p> + Tom again looked for help to Harry, who made a mischievous movement of his + lips, as if prompting, and, deceived by it, he said boldly, “From + op-possum.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right! let us hear him decline it!” cried Harry, in an ecstasy. + “Oppossum, opottis, opposse, or oh-pottery!” + </p> + <p> + “Harry,” said Richard, in a gentle reasonable voice, “I wish you would be + so kind as not to stay, if you cannot help distracting him.” + </p> + <p> + And Harry, who really had a tolerable share of forbearance and + consideration, actually obeyed, contenting himself with tossing his book + into the air and catching it again, while he paused at the door to give + his last unsolicited assistance. “Decline oppossum you say. I’ll tell you + how: O-possum re-poses up a gum tree. O-pot-you-I will, says the O-posse + of Yankees, come out to ketch him. Opossum poses them and declines in + O-pot-esse by any manner of means of o-potting-di-do-dum, was quite + oppositum-oppotitu, in fact, quite contrairy.” + </p> + <p> + Richard, with the gravity of a victim, heard this sally of schoolboy wit, + which threw Ethel back on the sofa in fits of laughing, and declaring that + the Opossum declined, not that he was declined; but, in the midst of the + disturbance thus created, Tom stepped up to her, and whispered, “Do tell + me, Ethel!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I shan’t,” said she. “Why don’t you say fairly if you don’t know?” + </p> + <p> + He was obliged to confess his ignorance, and Richard made him conjugate + the whole verb opponor from beginning to end, in which he wanted a good + deal of help. + </p> + <p> + Ethel could not help saying, “How did you find out the meaning of that + word, Tom, if you didn’t look out the verb?” + </p> + <p> + “I—don’t know,” drawled Tom, in the voice, half sullen, half + piteous, which he always assumed when out of sorts. + </p> + <p> + “It is very odd,” she said decidedly; but Richard took no notice, and + proceeded to the other lessons, which went off tolerably well, except the + arithmetic, where there was some great misunderstanding, into which Ethel + did not enter for some time. When she did attend, she perceived that Tom + had brought a right answer, without understanding the working of the sum, + and that Richard was putting him through it. She began to be worked into a + state of dismay and indignation at Tom’s behaviour, and Richard’s calm + indifference, which made her almost forget ‘Jane Sparks’, and long to be + alone with Richard; but all the world kept coming into the room, and going + out, and she could not say what was in her mind till after dinner, when, + seeing Richard go up into Margaret’s room, she ran after him, and entering + it, surprised Margaret, by not beginning on her books, but saying at once, + “Ritchie, I wanted to speak to you about Tom. I am sure he shuffled about + those lessons.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid he does,” said Richard, much concerned. + </p> + <p> + “What, do you mean that it is often so?” + </p> + <p> + “Much too often,” said Richard; “but I have never been able to detect him; + he is very sharp, and has some underhand way of preparing his lessons that + I cannot make out.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you know it, Margaret?” said Ethel, astonished not to see her sister + looked shocked as well as sorry. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Margaret, “Ritchie and I have often talked it over, and tried + to think what was to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! why don’t you tell papa? It is such a terrible thing!” + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” said Margaret, “but we have nothing positive or tangible to + accuse Tom of; we don’t know what he does, and have never caught him out.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure he must have found out the meaning of that oppositum in some + wrong way—if he had looked it out, he would only have found + opposite. Nothing but opponor could have shown him the rendering which he + made.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s like what I have said almost every day,” said Richard, “but there + we are—I can’t get any further.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he guesses by the context,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “It would be impossible to do so always,” said both the Latin scholars at + once. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can’t think how you can take it so quietly,” said Ethel. “I would + have told papa the first moment, and put a stop to it. I have a great mind + to do so, if you won’t. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, Ethel, that would never do!” exclaimed Margaret, “pray don’t. Papa + would be so dreadfully grieved and angry with poor Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so he deserves,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what it is to see papa angry,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, Richard!” cried Ethel, who thought she knew pretty well what his + sharp words were. “I’m sure papa never was angry with me, without making + me love him more, and, at least, want to be better.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a girl,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “You are higher spirited, and shake off things faster,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you think he would do to Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “I think he would be so very angry, that Tom, who, you know, is timid and + meek, would be dreadfully frightened,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “That’s just what he ought to be, frightened out of these tricks.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it would frighten him into them still more,” said Richard, + “and perhaps give him such a dread of my father as would prevent him from + ever being open with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides, it would make papa so very unhappy,” added Margaret. “Of course, + if poor dear Tom had been found out in any positive deceit, we ought to + mention it at once, and let him be punished; but while it is all vague + suspicion, and of what papa has such a horror of, it would only grieve + him, and make him constantly anxious, without, perhaps, doing Tom any + good.” + </p> + <p> + “I think all that is expediency,” said Ethel, in her bluff, abrupt way. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” said Richard, “we have nothing positive to accuse him of, and + if we had, it would be of no use. He will be at school in three weeks, and + there he would be sure to shirk, even if he left it off here. Every one + does, and thinks nothing of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard!” cried both sisters, shocked. “You never did?” + </p> + <p> + “No, we didn’t, but most others do, and not bad fellows either. It is not + the way of boys to think much of those things.” + </p> + <p> + “It is mean—it is dishonourable—it is deceitful!” cried Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I know it is very wrong, but you’ll never get the general run of boys to + think so,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Then Tom ought not to go to school at all till he is well armed against + it,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “That can’t be helped,” said Richard. “He will get clear of it in time, + when he knows better.” + </p> + <p> + “I will talk to him,” said Margaret, “and, indeed, I think it would be + better than worrying papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Ethel, “of course I shan’t tell, because it is not my + business, but I think papa ought to know everything about us, and I don’t + like your keeping anything back. It is being almost as bad as Tom + himself.” + </p> + <p> + With which words, as Flora entered, Ethel marched out of the room in + displeasure, and went down, resolved to settle Jane Sparks by herself. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel is out of sorts to-day,” said Flora. “What’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “We have had a discussion,” said Margaret. “She has been terribly shocked + by finding out what we have often thought about poor little Tom, and she + thinks we ought to tell papa. Her principle is quite right, but I doubt—” + </p> + <p> + “I know exactly how Ethel would do it!” cried Flora; “blurt out all on a + sudden, ‘Papa, Tom cheats at his lessons!’ then there would be a + tremendous uproar, papa would scold Tom till he almost frightened him out + of his wits, and then find out it was only suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “And never have any comfort again,” said Margaret. “He would always dread + that Tom was deceiving him, and then think it was all for want of—Oh, + no, it will never do to speak of it, unless we find out some positive + piece of misbehaviour.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “And it would do Tom no good to make him afraid of papa,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel’s rule is right in principle,” said Margaret thoughtfully, “that + papa ought to know all without reserve, and yet it will hardly do in + practice. One must use discretion, and not tease him about every little + thing. He takes them so much to heart, that he would be almost distracted; + and, with so much business abroad, I think at home he should have nothing + but rest, and, as far as we can, freedom from care and worry. Anything + wrong about the children brings on the grief so much, that I cannot bear + to mention it.” + </p> + <p> + Richard and Flora agreed with her, admiring the spirit which made her, in + her weakness and helplessness, bear the whole burden of family cares + alone, and devote herself entirely to spare her father. He was, indeed, + her first object, and she would have sacrificed anything to give him ease + of mind; but, perhaps, she regarded him more as a charge of her own, than + as, in very truth, the head of the family. She had the government in her + hands, and had never been used to see him exercise it much in detail (she + did not know how much her mother had referred to him in private), and had + succeeded to her authority at a time when his health and spirits were in + such a state as to make it doubly needful to spare him. It was no wonder + that she sometimes carried her consideration beyond what was strictly + right, and forgot that he was the real authority, more especially as his + impulsive nature sometimes carried him away, and his sound judgment was + not certain to come into play at the first moment, so that it required + some moral courage to excite displeasure, so easy of manifestation; and of + such courage there was, perhaps, a deficiency in her character. Nor had + she yet detected her own satisfaction in being the first with every one in + the family. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was put out, as Flora had discovered, and when she was downstairs + she found it out, and accused herself of having been cross to Margaret, + and unkind to Tom—of wishing to be a tell-tale. But still, though + displeased with herself, she was dissatisfied with Margaret; it might be + right, but it did not agree with her notions. She wanted to see every one + uncompromising, as girls of fifteen generally do; she had an intense + disgust and loathing of underhand ways, could not bear to think of Tom’s + carrying them on, and going to a place of temptation with them + uncorrected; and she looked up to her father with the reverence and + enthusiasm of one like minded. + </p> + <p> + She was vexed on another score. Norman came home from Abbotstoke Grange + without having seen Miss Rivers, but with a fresh basket of choice + flowers, rapturous descriptions of Mr. Rivers’s prints, and a present of + an engraving, in shading, such as to give the effect of a cast, of a very + fine head of Alexander. Nothing was to be thought of but a frame for this—olive, + bay, laurel, everything appropriate to the conqueror. Margaret and Norman + were engrossed in the subject, and, to Ethel, who had no toleration for + fancy work, who expected everything to be either useful or intellectual, + this seemed very frivolous. She heard her father say how glad he was to + see Norman interested and occupied, and certainly, though it was only in + leather leaves, it was better than drooping and attending to nothing. She + knew, too, that Margaret did it for his sake, but, said Ethel to herself, + “It was very odd that people should find amusement in such things. + Margaret always had a turn for them, but it was very strange in Norman.” + </p> + <p> + Then came the pang of finding out that this was aggravated by the neglect + of herself; she called it all selfishness, and felt that she had had an + uncomfortable, unsatisfactory day, with everything going wrong. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gently supported by the ready aid + Of loving hands, whose little work of toil + Her grateful prodigality repaid + With all the benediction of her smile, + She turned her failing feet + To the softly cushioned seat, + Dispensing kindly greetings all the time. + R. M. MILNES. +</pre> + <p> + Three great events signalised the month of January. The first was, the + opening of the school at Cocksmoor, whither a cart transported half a + dozen forms, various books, and three dozen plum-buns, Margaret’s + contribution, in order that the school might begin with eclat. There + walked Mr. Wilmot, Richard, and Flora, with Mary, in a jumping, capering + state of delight, and Ethel, not knowing whether she rejoiced. She kept + apart from the rest, and hardly spoke, for this long probation had + impressed her with a sense of responsibility, and she knew that it was a + great work to which she had set her hand—a work in which she must + persevere, and in which she could not succeed in her own strength. + </p> + <p> + She took hold of Flora’s hand, and squeezed it hard, in a fit of shyness, + when they came upon the hamlet, and saw the children watching for them; + and when they reached the house, she would fain have shrank into nothing; + there was a swelling of heart that seemed to overwhelm and stifle her, and + the effect of which was to keep her standing unhelpful, when the others + were busy bringing in the benches and settling the room. + </p> + <p> + It was a tidy room, but it seemed very small when they ranged the benches, + and opened the door to the seven-and-twenty children, and the four or five + women who stood waiting. Ethel felt some dismay when they all came pushing + in, without order or civility, and would have been utterly at a loss what + to do with her scholars now she had got them, if Richard and Flora had not + marshalled them to the benches. + </p> + <p> + Rough heads, torn garments, staring vacant eyes, and mouths gaping in shy + rudeness—it was a sight to disenchant her of visions of pleasure in + the work she had set herself. It was well that she had not to take the + initiative. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot said a few simple words to the mothers about the wish to teach + their children what was right, and to do the best at present practicable; + and then told the children that he hoped they would take pains to be good, + and mind what they were taught. Then he desired all to kneel down; he said + the Collect, “Prevent us, O Lord, in all our doings,” and then the Lord’s + Prayer. + </p> + <p> + Ethel felt as if she could bear it better, and was more up to the work + after this. Next, the children were desired to stand round the room, and + Mr. Wilmot tried who could say the Catechism—the two biggest, a boy + and a girl, had not an idea of it, and the boy looked foolish, and grinned + at being asked what was his name. One child was tolerably perfect, and + about half a dozen had some dim notions. Three were entirely ignorant of + the Lord’s Prayer, and many of the others did not by any means pronounce + the words of it. Jane and Fanny Taylor, Rebekah Watts, and Mrs. Green’s + little boy, were the only ones who, by their own account, used morning and + evening prayers, though, on further examination, it appeared that Polly + and Jenny Hall, and some others, were accustomed to repeat the old rhyme + about “Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,” and Una M’Carthy and her little + brother Fergus said something that nobody could make out, but which Mr. + Wilmot thought had once been an “Ave Maria.” + </p> + <p> + Some few of the children could read, and several more knew their letters. + The least ignorant were selected to form a first class, and Mr. Wilmot + promised a Prayer-book to the first who should be able to repeat the + Catechism without a mistake, and a Bible to the first who could read a + chapter in it. + </p> + <p> + Then followed a setting of tasks, varying from a verse of a Psalm, or the + first answer in the Catechism, down to the distinction between A, B, and + C; all to be ready by next Tuesday, when, weather permitting, a second + lesson was to be given. Afterwards, a piece of advice of Margaret’s was + followed, and Flora read aloud to the assembly the story of “Margaret + Fletcher.” To some this seemed to give great satisfaction, especially to + Una, but Ethel was surprised to see that many, and those not only little + ones, talked and yawned. They had no power of attention even to a story, + and the stillness was irksome to such wild colts. It was plain that it was + time to leave off, and there was no capacity there which did not find the + conclusion agreeable, when the basket was opened, and Ethel and Mary + distributed the buns, with instructions to say, “thank you.” + </p> + <p> + The next Tuesday, some of the lessons were learned, Una’s perfectly, the + big ignorant boy came no more; and some of the children had learned to + behave better, while others behaved worse; Ethel began to know what she + was about; Richard’s gentleness was eminently successful with the little + girls, impressing good manners on them in a marvellous way; and Mary’s + importance and happiness with alphabet scholars, some bigger than herself, + were edifying. Cocksmoor was fairly launched. + </p> + <p> + The next memorable day was that of Margaret’s being first carried + downstairs. She had been willing to put it off as long as she could, + dreading to witness the change below-stairs, and feeling, too, that in + entering on the family room, without power of leaving it, she was losing + all quiet and solitude, as well as giving up that monopoly of her father + in his evenings, which had been her great privilege. + </p> + <p> + However, she tried to talk herself into liking it; and was rewarded by the + happy commotion it caused, though Dr. May was in a state of excitement and + nervousness at the prospect of seeing her on the stairs, and his attempts + to conceal it only made it worse, till Margaret knew she should be nervous + herself, and wished him out of sight and out of the house till it was + over, for without him she had full confidence in the coolness and + steadiness of Richard, and by him it was safely and quietly accomplished. + She was landed on the sofa, Richard and Flora settling her, and the others + crowding round and exclaiming, while the newness of the scene and the + change gave her a sense of confusion, and she shut her eyes to recover her + thoughts, but opened them the next instant at her father’s exclamation + that she was overcome, smiled to reassure him, and declared herself not + tired, and to be very glad to be among them again. But the bustle was + oppressive, and her cheerful manner was an effort; she longed to see them + all gone, and Flora found it out, sent the children for their walk, and + carried off Ethel and the brothers. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May was called out of the room at the same time, and she was left + alone. She gazed round her, at the room where, four months before, she had + seen her mother with the babe in her arms, the children clustered round + her, her father exulting in his hen-and-chicken daisies, herself full of + bright undefined hope, radiant with health and activity, and her one + trouble such that she now knew the force of her mother’s words, that it + only proved her happiness. It was not till that moment that Margaret + realised the change; found her eyes filling with tears, as she looked + round, and saw the familiar furniture and ornaments. + </p> + <p> + They were instantly checked as she heard her father returning, but not so + that he did not perceive them, and exclaim that it had been too much for + her. “Oh, no—it was only the first time,” said Margaret, losing the + sense of the painful vacancy in her absorbing desire not to distress her + father, and thinking only of him as she watched him standing for some + minutes leaning on the mantel-shelf with his hand shading his forehead. + </p> + <p> + She began to speak as soon as she thought he was ready to have his mind + turned away: “How nicely Ritchie managed! He carried me so comfortably and + easily. It is enough to spoil me to be so deftly waited on.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad of it,” said Dr. May; “I am sure the change is better for you;” + but he came and looked at her still with great solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “Ritchie can take excellent care of me,” she continued, most anxious to + divert his thoughts. “You see it will do very well indeed for you to take + Harry to school.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to do so. I should like to see his master, and to take + Norman with me,” said the doctor. “It would be just the thing for him now—we + would show him the dockyard, and all those matters, and such a thorough + holiday would set him up again.” + </p> + <p> + “He is very much better.” + </p> + <p> + “Much better—he is recovering spirits and tone very fast. That + leaf-work of yours came at a lucky time. I like to see him looking out for + a curious fern in the hedgerows—the pursuit has quite brightened him + up.” + </p> + <p> + “And he does it so thoroughly,” said Margaret. “Ethel fancies it is rather + frivolous of him, I believe; but it amuses me to see how men give dignity + to what women make trifling. He will know everything about the leaves, + hunts up my botany books, and has taught me a hundred times more of the + construction and wonders of them than I ever learned.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said the doctor, “he has been talking a good deal to me about + vegetable chemistry. He would make a good scientific botanist, if he were + to be nothing else. I should be glad if he sticks to it as a pursuit—‘tis + pretty work, and I should like to have gone further with it, if I had ever + had time for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say he will,” said Margaret. “It will be very pleasant if he can + go with you. How he would enjoy the British Museum, if there was time for + him to see it! Have you said anything to him yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I waited to see how you were, as it all depends on that.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it depends still more on something else; whether Norman is as fit + to take care of you as Richard is.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s another point. There’s nothing but what he could manage now, but I + don’t like saying anything to him. I know he would undertake anything I + wished, without a word, and then, perhaps, dwell on it in fancy, and force + himself, till it would turn to a perfect misery, and upset his nerves + again. I’m sorry for it. I meant him to have followed my trade, but he’ll + never do for that. However, he has wits enough to make himself what he + pleases, and I dare say he will keep at the head of the school after all.” + </p> + <p> + “How very good he has been in refraining from restlessness!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s beautiful!” said Dr. May, with strong emotion. “Poor boy! I trust + he’ll not be disappointed, and I don’t think he will; but I’ve promised + him I won’t be annoyed if he should lose his place—so we must take + especial care not to show any anxiety. However, for this matter, Margaret, + I wish you would sound him, and see whether it would be more pleasure or + pain. Only mind you don’t let him think that I shall be vexed, if he feels + that he can’t make up his mind; I would not have him fancy that, for more + than I can tell.” + </p> + <p> + This consultation revived the spirits of both; and the others returning, + found Margaret quite disposed for companionship. If to her the evening was + sad and strange, like a visit in a dream to some old familiar haunt, + finding all unnatural, to the rest it was delightful. The room was no + longer dreary, now that there was a centre for care and attentions, and + the party was no longer broken up—the sense of comfort, + cheerfulness, and home-gathering had returned, and the pleasant evening + household gossip went round the table almost as it used to do. Dr. May + resumed his old habit of skimming a club book, and imparting the cream to + the listeners; and Flora gave them some music, a great treat to Margaret, + who had long only heard its distant sounds. + </p> + <p> + Margaret found an opportunity of talking to Norman, and judged favourably. + He was much pleased at the prospect of the journey, and of seeing a ship, + so as to have a clearer notion of the scene where Harry’s life was to be + spent, and though the charge of the arm was a drawback, he did not treat + it as insurmountable. + </p> + <p> + A few days’ attendance in his father’s room gave him confidence in taking + Richard’s place, and, accordingly, the third important measure was decided + on, namely, that he and his father should accompany Harry to the naval + school, and be absent three nights. Some relations would be glad to + receive them in London, and Alan Ernescliffe, who was studying steam + navigation at Woolwich, volunteered to meet them, and go with them to + Portsmouth. + </p> + <p> + It was a wonderful event; Norman and Harry had never been beyond Whitford + in their lives, and none of the young ones could recollect their papa’s + ever going from home for more than one night. Dr. May laughed at Margaret + for her anxiety and excitement on the subject, and was more amused at + overhearing Richard’s precise directions to Norman over the packing up. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Ritchie,” said the doctor, as he saw his portmanteau locked, and the + key given to Norman, “you may well look grave upon it. You won’t see it + look so tidy when it comes back again, and I believe you are thinking it + will be lucky if you see it at all.” + </p> + <p> + There was a very affectionate leave-taking of Harry, who, growing rather + soft-hearted, thought it needful to be disdainful, scolded Mary and + Blanche for “lugging off his figure-head,” and assured them they made as + much work about it as if he was going to sea at once. Then, to put an end + to any more embraces, he marched off to the station with Tom, and nearly + caused the others to be too late, by the search for him that ensued. + </p> + <p> + In due time, Dr. May and Norman returned, looking the better for the + journey. There was, first, to tell of Harry’s school and its master, and + Alan Ernescliffe’s introduction of him to a nice-looking boy of his own + age; then they were eloquent on the wonders of the dockyard, the Victory, + the block machinery. And London—while Dr. May went to transact some + business, Norman had been with Alan at the British Museum, and though he + had intended to see half London besides, there was no tearing him away + from the Elgin marbles; and nothing would serve him, but bringing Dr. May + the next morning to visit the Ninevite bulls. Norman further said, that + whereas papa could never go out of his house without meeting people who + had something to say to him, it was the same elsewhere. Six acquaintances + he had met unexpectedly in London, and two at Portsmouth. + </p> + <p> + So the conversation went on all the evening, to the great delight of all. + It was more about things than people, though Flora inquired after Mr. + Ernescliffe, and was told he had met them at the station, had been + everywhere with them, and had dined at the Mackenzies’ each day. “How was + he looking?” Ethel asked; and was told pretty much the same as when he + went away; and, on a further query from Flora, it appeared that an old + naval friend of his father’s had hopes of a ship, and had promised to have + him with him, and thereupon warm hopes were expressed that Harry might + have a berth in the same. + </p> + <p> + “And when is he coming here again, papa?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! oh! I can’t tell. I say, isn’t it high time to ring?” + </p> + <p> + When they went up at night, every one felt that half the say had not been + said, and there were fresh beginnings on the stairs. Norman triumphantly + gave the key to Richard, and then called to Ethel, “I say, won’t you come + into my room while I unpack?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I should like it very much.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel sat on the bed, rolled up in a cloak, while Norman undid his bag, + announcing at the same time, “Well, Ethel, papa says I may get to my + Euripides to-morrow, if I please, and only work an hour at a time!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad. Then he thinks you quite well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am quite well. I hope I’ve done with nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did you get on with his arm?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well—he was so patient, and told me how to manage. You heard + that Sir Matthew said it had got much better in these few weeks. Oh, here + it is! There’s a present for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you. From you, or from papa?” + </p> + <p> + “This is mine. Papa has a present for every one in his bag. He said, at + last, that a man with eleven children hadn’t need to go to London very + often.” + </p> + <p> + “And you got this beautiful ‘Lyra Innocentium’ for me? How very kind of + you, Norman. It is just what I wished for. Such lovely binding—and + those embossed edges to the leaves. Oh! they make a pattern as they open! + I never saw anything like it.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw such a one on Miss Rivers’s table, and asked Ernescliffe where to + get one like it. See, here’s what my father gave me.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Bishop Ken’s Manual’. That is in readiness for the Confirmation.” + </p> + <p> + “Look. I begged him to put my name, though he said it was a pity to do it + with his left hand; I didn’t like to wait, so I asked him at least to + write N. W. May, and the date.” + </p> + <p> + “And he has added Prov. xxiii. 24, 25. Let me look it out.” She did so, + and instead of reading it aloud, looked at Norman full of congratulation. + </p> + <p> + “How it ought to make one—” and there Norman broke off from the + fullness of his heart. + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad he put both verses” said Ethel presently. “How pleased with you + he must be!” + </p> + <p> + A silence while brother and sister both gazed intently at the crooked + characters, till at last Ethel, with a long breath, resumed her ordinary + tone, and said, “How well he has come to write with his left hand now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Did you know that he wrote himself to tell Ernescliffe Sir Matthew’s + opinion of Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “No: did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Ethel,” said Norman, as he knelt on the floor, and tumbled + miscellaneous articles out of his bag, “it is my belief that Ernescliffe + is in love with her, and that papa thinks so.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” cried Ethel, starting up. “That is famous. We should always + have Margaret at home when he goes to sea!” + </p> + <p> + “But mind, Ethel, for your life you must not say one word to any living + creature.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I promise you I won’t, Norman, if you’ll only tell me how you + found it out.” + </p> + <p> + “What first put it in my head was the first evening, while I was undoing + the portmanteau; my father leaned on the mantel-shelf, and sighed and + muttered, ‘Poor Ernescliffe! I wish it may end well.’ I thought he forgot + that I was there, so I would not seem to notice, but I soon saw it was + that he meant.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” cried Ethel eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know—by Alan’s way.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—I want to know what people do when they are in love.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing particular,” said Norman, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear him inquire for her? How did he look?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell. That was when he met us at the station before I thought of + it, and I had to see to the luggage. But I’ll tell you one thing, Ethel; + when papa was talking of her to Mrs. Mackenzie, at the other end of the + room, all his attention went away in an instant from what he was saying. + And once, when Harry said something to me about her, he started, and + looked round so earnestly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes—that’s like people in books. And did he colour?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I don’t recollect that he did,” said Norman; “but I observed he never + asked directly after her if he could help it, but always was trying to + lead, in some round-about way, to hearing what she was doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he call her Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “I watched; but to me he always said, ‘Your sister,’ and if he had to + speak of her to papa, he said, ‘Miss May.’ And then you should have seen + his attention to papa. I could hardly get a chance of doing anything for + papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sure of it!” cried Ethel, clasping her hands. “But, poor man, how + unhappy he must have been at having to go away when she was so ill!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, the last time he saw her was when he carried her upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! I hope he will soon come here again!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t suppose he will. Papa did not ask him.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, Norman! Why not? Isn’t papa very fond of him? Why shouldn’t he + come?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see, Ethel, that would be of no use while poor Margaret is no + better. If he gained her affections, it would only make her unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but she is much better. She can raise herself up now without help, + and sat up ever so long this morning, without leaning back on her + cushions. She is getting well—you know Sir Matthew said she would.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I suppose papa thinks they had better say nothing till she is + quite well.” + </p> + <p> + “And when she is! How famous it will be.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there’s another thing; he is very poor, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure papa doesn’t care about people being rich.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Alan thinks he ought not to marry, unless he could make his + wife comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here—it would be all very easy: she should stay with us, and + be comfortable here, and he go to sea, and get lots of prize money.” + </p> + <p> + “And that’s what you call domestic felicity!” said Norman, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “He might have her when he was at home,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; that would never do,” said Norman. “Do you think Ernescliffe’s a + man that would marry a wife for her father to maintain her?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, papa would like it very much. He is not a mercenary father in a + book.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey! what’s that?” said a voice Ethel little expected. “Contraband talk + at contraband times? What’s this!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear, papa?” said Ethel, looking down. + </p> + <p> + “Only your last words, as I came up to ask Norman what he had done with my + pocket-book. Mind, I ask no impertinent questions; but, if you have no + objection, I should like to know what gained me the honour of that + compliment.” + </p> + <p> + “Norman?” said Ethel interrogatively, and blushing in emulation of her + brother, who was crimson. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll find it,” said he, rushing off with a sort of nod and sign, that + conveyed to Ethel that there was no help for it. + </p> + <p> + So, with much confusion, she whispered into her papa’s ear that Norman had + been telling her something he guessed about Mr. Ernescliffe. + </p> + <p> + Her father at first smiled, a pleased amused smile. “Ah! ha! so Master + June has his eyes and ears open, has he? A fine bit of gossip to regale + you with on his return!” + </p> + <p> + “He told me to say not one word,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Right—mind you don’t,” said Dr. May, and Ethel was surprised to see + how sorrowful his face became. At the same moment Norman returned, still + very red, and said, “I’ve put out the pocket-book, papa. I think I should + tell you I repeated what, perhaps, you did not mean me to hear—you + talked to yourself something of pitying Ernescliffe.” The doctor smiled + again at the boy’s high-minded openness, which must have cost an effort of + self-humiliation. “I can’t say little pitchers have long ears, to a + May-pole like you, Norman,” said he; “I think I ought rather to apologise + for having inadvertently tumbled in among your secrets; I assure you I did + not come to spy you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no, no, no!” repeated Ethel vehemently. “Then you didn’t mind our + talking about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not, as long as it goes no further. It is the use of sisters to + tell them one’s private sentiments. Is not it, Norman?” + </p> + <p> + “And do you really think it is so, papa?” Ethel could not help whispering. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid it is”, said Dr. May, sighing; then, as he caught her earnest + eyes, “The more I see of Alan, the finer fellow I think him, and the more + sorry I am for him. It seems presumptuous, almost wrong, to think of the + matter at all while my poor Margaret is in this state; and, if she were + well, there are other difficulties which would, perhaps, prevent his + speaking, or lead to long years of waiting and wearing out hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Money?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Ay! Though I so far deserve your compliment, miss, that should be foolish + enough, if she were but well, to give my consent to-morrow, because I + could not help it; yet one can’t live forty-six years in this world + without seeing it is wrong to marry without a reasonable dependence—and + there won’t be much among eleven of you. It makes my heart ache to think + of it, come what may, as far as I can see, and without her to judge. The + only comfort is, that poor Margaret herself knows nothing of it, and is at + peace so far. It will be ordered for them, anyhow. Good-night, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel sought her room, with graver, deeper thoughts of life than she had + carried upstairs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Saw ye never in the meadows, + Where your little feet did pass, + Down below, the sweet white daisies + Growing in the long green grass? + + Saw you never lilac blossoms, + Or acacia white and red, + Waving brightly in the sunshine, + On the tall trees over head? + HYMNS FOR CHILDREN, C. F. A. +</pre> + <p> + “My dear child, what a storm you have had! how wet you must be!” exclaimed + Mrs. Larpent, as Meta Rivers came bounding up the broad staircase at + Abbotstoke Grange. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no; I am quite dry; feel.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” said Mrs. Larpent, drawing her darling into a luxurious + bedroom, lighted up by a glowing fire, and full of pretty things. “Here, + come and take off your wet things, my dear, and Bellairs shall bring you + some tea.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m dry. I’m warm,” said Meta, tossing off her plumy hat, as she + established herself, with her feet on the fender. “But where do you think + I have been? You have so much to hear. But first—three guesses where + we were in the rain!” + </p> + <p> + “In the Stoneborough Cloisters, that you wanted to see? My dear, you did + not keep your papa in the cold there?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; we never got there at all; guess again.” + </p> + <p> + “At Mr. Edward Wilmot’s?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Could it have been at Dr. May’s? Really, then, you must tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “There! you deserve a good long story; beginning at the beginning,” said + Meta, clapping her hands, “wasn’t it curious? as we were coming up the + last hill, we met some girls in deep mourning, with a lady who looked like + their governess. I wondered whether they could be Dr. May’s daughters, and + so it turned out they were. + </p> + <p> + “Presently there began to fall little square lumps, neither hail, nor + snow, nor rain; it grew very cold, and rain came on. It would have been + great fun, if I had not been afraid papa would catch cold, and he said we + would canter on to the inn. But, luckily, there was Dr. May walking up the + street, and he begged us to come into his house. I was so glad! We were + tolerably wet, and Dr. May said something about hoping the girls were at + home; well, when he opened the drawing-room door, there was the poor + daughter lying on the sofa.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl! tell me of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you must go and see her; you won’t look at her without losing your + heart. Papa liked her so much—see if he does not talk of her all the + evening. She looks the picture of goodness and sweetness. Only think of + her having some of the maidenhair and cape jessamine still in water, that + we sent her so long ago. She shall have some flowers every three days. + Well, Dr. May said, ‘There is one at least, that is sure to be at home.’ + She felt my habit, and said I must go and change it, and she called to a + little thing of six, telling her to show me the way to Flora. She smiled, + and said she wished she could go herself, but Flora would take care of me. + Little Blanche came and took hold of my hand, chattering away, up we went, + up two staircases, and at the top of the last stood a girl about + seventeen, so pretty! such deep blue eyes, and such a complexion! ‘That’s + Flora,’ little Blanche said; ‘Flora, this is Miss Rivers, and she’s wet, + and Margaret says you are to take care of her.’” + </p> + <p> + “So that was your introduction?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; we got acquainted in a minute. She took me into her room—such + a room! I believe Bellairs would be angry if she had such a one; all up in + the roof, no fire, no carpet, except little strips by the beds; there were + three beds. Flora used to sleep there till Miss May was ill, and now she + dresses there. Yet I am sure they are as much ladies as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an only daughter, my dear, and a petted one,” said Mrs. Larpent, + smiling. “There are too many of them to make much of, as we do of our + Meta.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so; but I did not know gentlewomen lived in such a way,” said + Meta. “There were nice things about, a beautiful inlaid work-box of + Flora’s, and a rosewood desk, and plenty of books, and a Greek book and + dictionary were spread open. I asked Flora if they were hers, and she + laughed and said no; and that Ethel would be much discomposed that I had + see them. Ethel keeps up with her brother Norman—only fancy! and he + at the head of the school. How clever she must be!” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear, were you standing in your wet things all this time!” + </p> + <p> + “No; I was trying on their frocks, but they trailed on the ground upon me, + so she asked if I would come and sit by the nursery fire till my habit was + dry; and there was a dear little good-humoured baby, so fair and pretty. + She is not a bit shy, will go to anybody, but, they say, she likes no one + so well as her brother Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “So you had a regular treat of baby-nursing.” + </p> + <p> + “That I had; I could not part with her, the darling. Flora thought we + might take her down, and I liked playing with her in the drawing-room and + talking to Miss May, till the fly came to take us home. I wanted to have + seen Ethel; but, only think, papa has asked Dr. May to bring Flora some + day; how I hope he will!” + </p> + <p> + Little Meta having told her story, and received plenty of sympathy, + proceeded to dress, and, while her maid braided her hair, a musing fit + fell upon her. “I have seen something of life to-day,” thought she. “I had + thought of the great difference between us and the poor, but I did not + know ladies lived in such different ways. I should be very miserable + without Bellairs, or without a fire in my room. I don’t know what I should + do if I had to live in that cold, shabby den, and do my own hair, yet they + think nothing of it, and they are cultivated and ladylike! Is it all + fancy, and being brought up to it? I wonder if it is right? Yet dear papa + likes me to have these things, and can afford them. I never knew I was + luxurious before, and yet I think I must be! One thing I do wish, and that + is, that I was of as much use as those girls. I ought to be. I am a + motherless girl like them, and I ought to be everything to papa, just as + Miss May is, even lying on the sofa there, and only two years older than I + am. I don’t think I am of any use at all; he is fond of me, of course, + dear papa; and if I died, I don’t know what would become of him; but + that’s only because I am his daughter—he has only George besides to + care for. But, really and truly, he would get on as well without me. I + never do anything for him, but now and then playing to him in the evening, + and that not always, I am afraid, when I want to be about anything else. + He is always petting me, and giving me all I want, but I never do anything + but my lessons, and going to the school, and the poor people, and that is + all pleasure. I have so much that I never miss what I give away. I wonder + whether it is all right! Leonora and Agatha have not so much money to do + as they please with—they are not so idolised. George said, when he + was angry, that papa idolises me; but they have all these comforts and + luxuries, and never think of anything but doing what they like. They never + made me consider as these Mays do. I should like to know them more. I do + so much want a friend of my own age. It is the only want I have. I have + tried to make a friend of Leonora, but I cannot; she never cares for what + I do. If she saw these Mays she would look down on them. Dear Mrs. Larpent + is better than any one, but then she is so much older. Flora May shall be + my friend. I’ll make her call me Meta as soon as she comes. When will it + be? The day after tomorrow?” + </p> + <p> + But little Meta watched in vain. Dr. May always came with either Richard + or the groom, to drive him, and if Meta met him and hoped he would bring + Flora next time, he only answered that Flora would like it very much, and + he hoped soon to do so. + </p> + <p> + The truth was, it was no such everyday matter as Meta imagined. The larger + carriage had been broken, and the only vehicle held only the doctor—his + charioteer—and in a very minute appendage behind, a small son of the + gardener, to open gates, and hold the horse. + </p> + <p> + The proposal had been one of those general invitations to be fulfilled at + any time, and therefore easily set aside; and Dr. May, though continually + thinking he should like to take his girls to Abbotstoke, never saw the + definite time for so doing; and Flora herself, though charmed with Miss + Rivers, and delighted with the prospect of visiting her, only viewed it as + a distant prospect. + </p> + <p> + There was plenty of immediate interest to occupy them at home, to say + nothing of the increasing employment that Cocksmoor gave to thoughts, + legs, and needles. There was the commencement of the half-year, when Tom’s + schoolboy life was to begin, and when it would be proved whether Norman + were able to retain his elevation. + </p> + <p> + Margaret had much anxiety respecting the little boy about to be sent into + a scene of temptation. Her great confidence was in Richard, who told her + that boys did many more wrong things than were known at home, and yet + turned out very well, and that Tom would be sure to right himself in the + end. Richard had been blameless in his whole school course, but though + never partaking of the other boys’ evil practices, he could not form an + independent estimate of character, and his tone had been a little hurt, by + sharing the school public opinion of morality. He thought Stoneborough and + its temptations inevitable, and only wished to make the best of it. + Margaret was afraid to harass her father by laying the case before him. + All her brothers had gone safely through the school, and it never occurred + to her that it was possible that, if her father knew the bias of Tom’s + disposition, he might choose, for the present, at least, some other mode + of education. + </p> + <p> + She talked earnestly to Tom, and he listened impatiently. There is an age + when boys rebel against female rule, and are not yet softened by the + chivalry of manhood, and Tom was at this time of life. He did not like to + be lectured by a sister, secretly disputed her right, and, proud of + becoming a schoolboy, had not the generous deference for her weakness felt + by his elder brothers; he was all the time peeling a stick, as if to show + that he was not attending, and he raised up his shoulder pettishly + whenever she came to a mention of the religious duty of sincerity. She did + not long continue her advice, and, much disappointed and concerned, tried + to console herself with hoping that he might have heeded more than he + seemed to do. + </p> + <p> + He was placed tolerably high in the school, and Norman, who had the first + choice of fags, took him instead of Hector Ernescliffe, who had just + passed beyond the part of the school liable to be fagged. He said he liked + school, looked bright when he came home in the evenings, and the sisters + hoped all was right. + </p> + <p> + Every one was just now anxiously watching Norman, especially his father, + who strove in vain to keep back all manifestation of his earnest desire to + see him retain his post. Resolutely did the doctor refrain from asking any + questions, when the boys came in, but he could not keep his eyes from + studying the face, to see whether it bore marks of mental fatigue, and + from following him about the room, to discover whether he found it + necessary, as he had done last autumn, to spend the evening in study. It + was no small pleasure to see him come in with his hand full of + horse-chestnut and hazel-buds, and proceed to fetch the microscope and + botany books, throwing himself eagerly into the study of the wonders of + their infant forms, searching deeply into them with Margaret, and talking + them over with his father, who was very glad to promote the pursuit—one + in which he had always taken great interest. + </p> + <p> + Another night Dr. May was for a moment disturbed by seeing the + school-books put out, but Norman had only some notes to compare, and while + he did so, he was remarking on Flora’s music, and joining in the + conversation so freely as to prove it was no labour to him. In truth, he + was evidently quite recovered, entirely himself again, except that he was + less boyish. He had been very lively and full of merry nonsense; but his + ardour for play had gone off with his high spirits, and there was a + manliness of manner, and tone of mind, that made him appear above his real + age. + </p> + <p> + At the end of a fortnight he volunteered to tell his father that all was + right. “I am not afraid of not keeping my place,” he said; “you were quite + right, papa. I am more up to my work than I was ever before, and it comes + to me quite fresh and pleasant. I don’t promise to get the Randall + scholarship, if Forder and Cheviot stay on, but I can quite keep up to the + mark in school work.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right,” said Dr. May, much rejoiced. “Are you sure you do it with + ease, and without its haunting you at night?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; quite sure. I can’t think what has made Dr. Hoxton set us on in + such easy things this time. It is very lucky for me, for one gets so much + less time to oneself as dux.” + </p> + <p> + “What! with keeping order?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Norman. “I fancy they think they may take liberties because I + am new and young. I must have my eye in all corners of the hall at once, + and do my own work by snatches, as I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you make them attend to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, pretty well, when it comes to the point—‘will you, or + will you not?’ Cheviot is a great help, too, and has all the weight of + being the eldest fellow amongst us.” + </p> + <p> + “But still you find it harder work than learning? You had rather have to + master the dead language than the live tongues?” + </p> + <p> + “A pretty deal,” said Norman; then added, “One knows what to be at with + the dead, better than with the living; they don’t make parties against + one. I don’t wonder at it. It was very hard on some of those great fellows + to have me set before them, but I do not think it is fair to visit it by + putting up the little boys to all sorts of mischief.” + </p> + <p> + “Shameful!” said the doctor warmly; “but never mind, Norman, keep your + temper, and do your own duty, and you are man enough to put down such + petty spite.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I shall manage rightly,” said Norman; “but I shall be glad if I + can get the Randall and get away to Oxford; school is not what it used to + be, and if you don’t think me too young—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t; certainly not. Trouble has made a man of you, Norman, and + you are fitter to be with men than boys. In the meantime, if you can be + patient with these fellows, you’ll be of great use where you are. If there + had been any one like you at the head of the school in my time, it would + have kept me out of no end of scrapes. How does Tom get on? he is not + likely to fall into this set, I trust.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” said Norman; “he does pretty well on the whole. Some of + them began by bullying him, and that made him cling to Cheviot and + Ernescliffe, and the better party; but lately I have thought Anderson, + junior, rather making up to him, and I don’t know whether they don’t think + that tempting him over to them would be the surest way of vexing me. I + have an eye over him, and I hope he may get settled into the steadier sort + before next half.” + </p> + <p> + After a silence, Norman said, “Papa, there is a thing I can’t settle in my + own mind. Suppose there had been wrong things done when older boys, and + excellent ones too, were at the head of the school, yet they never + interfered, do you think I ought to let it go on?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, or why is power given to you?” + </p> + <p> + “So I thought,” said Norman; “I can’t see it otherwise. I wish I could, + for it will be horrid to set about it, and they’ll think it a regular + shame in me to meddle. Oh! I know what I came into the study for; I want + you to be so kind as to lend me your pocket Greek Testament. I gave Harry + my little one.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very welcome. What do you want it for?” + </p> + <p> + Norman coloured. “I met with a sermon the other day that recommended + reading a bit of it every day, and I thought I should like to try, now the + Confirmation is coming. One can always have some quiet by getting away + into the cloister.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, my boy! while you go on in this way, I have not much fear but + that you’ll know how to manage.” + </p> + <p> + Norman’s rapid progress affected another of the household in an unexpected + way. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret, my dear, I wish to speak to you,” said Miss Winter, reappearing + when Margaret thought every one was gone out walking. She would have said, + “I am very sorry for it”—so ominous was the commencement—and + her expectations were fulfilled when Miss Winter had solemnly seated + herself, and taken out her netting. “I wished to speak to you about dear + Ethel,” said the governess; “you know how unwilling I always am to make + any complaint, but I cannot be satisfied with her present way of going + on.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Margaret. “I am much grieved to hear this. I thought she + had been taking great pains to improve.” + </p> + <p> + “So she was at one time. I would not by any means wish to deny it, and it + is not of her learning that I speak, but of a hurried, careless way of + doing everything, and an irritability at being interfered with.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret knew how Miss Winter often tried Ethel’s temper, and was inclined + to take her sister’s part. “Ethel’s time is so fully occupied,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “That is the very thing that I was going to observe, my dear. Her time is + too much occupied, and my conviction is, that it is hurtful to a girl of + her age.” + </p> + <p> + This was a new idea to Margaret, who was silent, longing to prove Miss + Winter wrong, and not have to see poor Ethel pained by having to + relinquish any of her cherished pursuits. + </p> + <p> + “You see there is that Cocksmoor,” said Miss Winter. “You do not know how + far off it is, my dear; much too great a distance for a young girl to be + walking continually in all weathers.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a question for papa,” thought Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” continued Miss Winter, “those children engross almost all her + time and thoughts. She is working for them, preparing lessons, running + after them continually. It takes off her whole mind from her proper + occupations, unsettles her, and I do think it is beyond what befits a + young lady of her age.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was silent. + </p> + <p> + “In addition,” said Miss Winter, “she is at every spare moment busy with + Latin and Greek, and I cannot think that to keep pace with a boy of + Norman’s age and ability can be desirable for her.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a great deal,” said Margaret, “but—” + </p> + <p> + “I am convinced that she does more than is right,” continued Miss Winter. + “She may not feel any ill effects at present, but you may depend upon it, + it will tell on her by-and-by. Besides, she does not attend to anything + properly. At one time she was improving in neatness and orderly habits. + Now, you surely must have seen how much less tidy her hair and dress have + been.” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought her hair looking rather rough,” said Margaret + disconsolately. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder,” said Miss Winter, “for Flora and Mary tell me she hardly + spends five minutes over it in the morning, and with a book before her the + whole time. If I send her up to make it fit to be seen, I meet with looks + of annoyance. She leaves her books in all parts of the school-room for + Mary to put away, and her table drawer is one mass of confusion. Her + lessons she does well enough, I own, though what I should call much too + fast; but have you looked at her work lately?” + </p> + <p> + “She does not work very well,” said Margaret, who was at that moment, + though Miss Winter did not know it, re-gathering a poor child’s frock that + Ethel had galloped through with more haste than good speed. + </p> + <p> + “She works a great deal worse than little Blanche,” said Miss Winter, “and + though it may not be the fashion to say so in these days, I consider good + needlework far more important than accomplishments. Well, then, Margaret, + I should wish you only just to look at her writing.” + </p> + <p> + And Miss Winter opened a French exercise-book, certainly containing + anything but elegant specimens of penmanship. Ethel’s best writing was an + upright, disjointed niggle, looking more like Greek than anything else, + except where here and there it made insane efforts to become running-hand, + and thereby lost its sole previous good quality of legibility, while the + lines waved about the sheet in almost any direction but the horizontal. + The necessity she believed herself under of doing what Harry called + writing with the end of her nose, and her always holding her pen with her + fingers almost in the ink, added considerably to the difficulty of the + performance. This being at her best, the worst may be supposed to be + indescribable, when dashed off in a violent hurry, and considerably + garnished with blots. Margaret thought she had seen the worst, and was + sighing at being able to say nothing for it, when Miss Winter confounded + her by turning a leaf, and showing it was possible to make a still wilder + combination of scramble, niggle, scratch, and crookedness—and this + was supposed to be an amended edition! Miss Winter explained that Ethel + had, in an extremely short time, performed an exercise in which no fault + could be detected except the writing, which was pronounced to be too + atrocious to be shown up to M. Ballompre. On being desired to write it + over again, she had obeyed with a very bad grace, and some murmurs about + Cocksmoor, and produced the second specimen, which, in addition to other + defects, had some elisions from arrant carelessness, depriving it of its + predecessor’s merits of being good French. + </p> + <p> + Miss Winter had been so provoked that she believed this to be an effect of + ill temper, and declared that she should certainly have kept Ethel at home + to write it over again, if it had not so happened that Dr. May had + proposed to walk part of the way with her and Richard, and the governess + was unwilling to bring her into disgrace with him. Margaret was so + grateful to her for this forbearance, that it disposed her to listen the + more patiently to the same representations put in, what Miss Winter + fancied, different forms. Margaret was much perplexed. She could not but + see much truth in what Miss Winter said, and yet she could not bear to + thwart Ethel, whom she admired with her whole heart; and that dry + experience, and prejudiced preciseness, did not seem capable of entering + into her sister’s thirst for learning and action. When Miss Winter said + Ethel would grow up odd, eccentric, and blue, Margaret was ready to answer + that she would be superior to every one; and when the governess urged her + to insist on Cocksmoor being given up, she felt impatient of that utter + want of sympathy for the good work. + </p> + <p> + All that evening Margaret longed for a quiet time to reflect, but it never + came till she was in bed; and when she had made up her mind how to speak + to Ethel, it was five times harder to secure her alone. Even when Margaret + had her in the room by herself, she looked wild and eager, and said she + could not stay, she had some Thucydides to do. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you stay with me a little while, quietly?” said Margaret; “we + hardly ever have one of our talks.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t mean to vex you, dear Margaret; I like nothing so well, only we + are never alone, and I’ve no time.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray do spare me a minute, Ethel, for I have something that I must say to + you, and I am afraid you won’t like it—so do listen kindly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Ethel, “Miss Winter has been talking to you. I know she said + she would tell you that she wants me to give up Cocksmoor. You aren’t + dreaming of it, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, dear Ethel, I should be very sorry, but one thing I am sure of, + that there is something amiss in your way of going on.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she show you that horrid exercise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I know it was baddish writing, but just listen, Margaret. We + promised six of the children to print them each a verse of a hymn on a + card to learn. Ritchie did three, and then could not go on, for the book + that the others were in was lost till last evening, and then he was + writing for papa. So I thought I would do them before we went to + Cocksmoor, and that I should squeeze time out of the morning; but I got a + bit of Sophocles that was so horridly hard it ate up all my time, and I + don’t understand it properly now; I must get Norman to tell me. And that + ran in my head and made me make a mistake in my sum, and have to begin it + again. Then, just as I thought I had saved time over the exercise, comes + Miss Winter and tells me I must do it over again, and scolds me besides + about the ink on my fingers. She would send me up at once to get it off, + and I could not find nurse and her bottle of stuff for it, so that wasted + ever so much more time, and I was so vexed that, really and truly, my hand + shook and I could not write any better.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I thought it looked as if you had been in one of your agonies.” + </p> + <p> + “And she thought I did it on purpose, and that made me angry, and so we + got into a dispute, and away went all the little moment I might have had, + and I was forced to go to Cocksmoor as a promise breaker!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think you had better have taken pains at first?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so I did with the sense, but I hadn’t time to look at the writing + much.” + </p> + <p> + “You would have made better speed if you had.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know I was wrong, but it is a great plague altogether. Really, + Margaret, I shan’t get Thucydides done.” + </p> + <p> + “You must wait a little longer, please, Ethel, for I want to say to you + that I am afraid you are doing too much, and that prevents you from doing + things well, as you were trying to do last autumn.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not thinking of my not going to Cocksmoor?” cried Ethel + vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to consider what is to be done, dear Ethel. You thought, last + autumn, a great deal of curing your careless habits, now you seem not to + have time to attend. You can do a great deal very fast, I know, but isn’t + it a pity to be always in a hurry?” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t Cocksmoor that is the reason,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “No; you did pretty well when you began, but you know that was in the + holidays, when you had no Latin and Greek to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but, Margaret, they won’t take so much time when I have once got over + the difficulties, and see my way, but just now they have put Norman into + such a frightfully difficult play, that I can hardly get on at all with + it, and there’s a new kind of Greek verses, too, and I don’t make out from + the book how to manage them. Norman showed me on Saturday, but mine won’t + be right. When I’ve got over that, I shan’t be so hurried.” + </p> + <p> + “But Norman will go on to something harder, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say I shall be able to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you might, but I want you to consider if you are not working + beyond what can be good for anybody. You see Norman is much cleverer than + most boys, and you are a year younger; and besides doing all his work at + the head of the school, his whole business of the day, you have Cocksmoor + to attend to, and your own lessons, besides reading all the books that + come into the house. Now isn’t that more than is reasonable to expect any + head and hands to do properly?” + </p> + <p> + “But if I can do it?” + </p> + <p> + “But can you, dear Ethel? Aren’t you always racing from one thing to + another, doing them by halves, feeling hunted, and then growing vexed?” + </p> + <p> + “I know I have been cross lately,” said Ethel, “but it’s the being so + bothered.” + </p> + <p> + “And why are you bothered? Isn’t it that you undertake too much?” + </p> + <p> + “What would you have me do?” said Ethel, in an injured, unconvinced voice. + “Not give up my children?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Margaret; “but don’t think me very unkind if I say, suppose you + left off trying to keep up with Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret! Margaret!” and her eyes filled with tears. “We have hardly + missed doing the same every day since the first Latin grammar was put into + his hands!” + </p> + <p> + “I know it would be very hard,” said Margaret; but Ethel continued, in a + piteous tone, a little sentimental, “From hie haec hoc up to Alcaics and + beta Thukididou we have gone on together, and I can’t bear to give it up. + I’m sure I can—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Ethel, I really doubt whether you can. Do you know that Norman was + telling papa the other day that it was very odd Dr. Hoxton gave them such + easy lessons.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel looked very much mortified. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Margaret kindly, “we all know that men have more power + than women, and I suppose the time has come for Norman to pass beyond you. + He would not be cleverer than any one, if he could not do more than a girl + at home.” + </p> + <p> + “He has so much more time for it,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the very thing. Now consider, Ethel. His work, after he goes to + Oxford, will be doing his very utmost—and you know what an utmost + that is. If you could keep up with him at all, you must give your whole + time and thoughts to it, and when you had done so—if you could get + all the honours in the University—what would it come to? You can’t + take a first-class.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want one,” said Ethel; “I only can’t bear not to do as Norman + does, and I like Greek so much.” + </p> + <p> + “And for that would you give up being a useful, steady daughter and sister + at home? The sort of woman that dear mamma wished to make you, and a + comfort to papa.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was silent, and large tears were gathering. + </p> + <p> + “You own that that is the first thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel faintly. + </p> + <p> + “And that it is what you fail in most?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Ethel dearest, when you made up your mind to Cocksmoor, you knew + those things could not be done without a sacrifice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I didn’t think it would be this.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was wise enough not to press her, and she sat down and sighed + pitifully. Presently she said, “Margaret, if you would only let me leave + off that stupid old French, and horrid dull reading with Miss Winter, I + should have plenty of time for everything; and what does one learn by + hearing Mary read poetry she can’t understand?” + </p> + <p> + “You work, don’t you? But indeed, Ethel, don’t say that I can let you + leave off anything. I don’t feel as if I had that authority. If it be done + at all, it must be by papa’s consent, and if you wish me to ask him about + it, I will, only I think it would vex Miss Winter; and I don’t think dear + mamma would have liked Greek and Cocksmoor to swallow up all the little + common ladylike things.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel made two or three great gulps; “Margaret, must I give up everything, + and forget all my Latin and Greek?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think that would be a great pity,” said Margaret. “If you were + to give up the verse-making, and the trying to do as much as Norman, and + fix some time in the day—half an hour, perhaps—for your Greek, + I think it might do very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Ethel, much relieved; “I’m glad you don’t want me to + leave it all off. I hope Norman won’t be vexed,” she added, looking a + little melancholy. + </p> + <p> + But Norman had not by any means the sort of sentiment on the subject that + she had. “Of course, you know, Ethel,” said he, “it must have come to this + some time or other, and if you find those verses too hard, and that they + take up too much of your time, you had better give them up.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel did not like anything to be said to be too hard for her, and was + very near pleading she only wanted time, but some recollection came across + her, and presently she said, “I suppose it is a wrong sort of ambition to + want to learn more, in one’s own way, when one is told it is not good for + one. I was just going to say I hated being a woman, and having these + tiresome little trifles—my duty—instead of learning, which is + yours, Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad you did not,” said Norman, “for it would have been very silly of + you; and I assure you, Ethel, it is really time for you to stop, or you + would get into a regular learned lady, and be good for nothing. I don’t + mean that knowing more than other people would make you so, but minding + nothing else would.” + </p> + <p> + This argument from Norman himself did much to reconcile Ethel’s mind to + the sacrifice she had made; and when she went to bed, she tried to work + out the question in her own mind, whether her eagerness for classical + learning was a wrong sort of ambition, to know what other girls did not, + and whether it was right to crave for more knowledge than was thought + advisable for her. She only bewildered herself, and went to sleep before + she had settled anything, but that she knew she must make all give way to + papa first, and, secondly, to Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Margaret had told her father all that had passed. He was only + surprised to hear that Ethel had kept up so long with Norman, and thought + that it was quite right that she should not undertake so much, agreeing + more entirely than Margaret had expected with Miss Winter’s view, that it + would be hurtful to body as well as mind. + </p> + <p> + “It is perfectly ridiculous to think of her attempting it!” he said. “I am + glad you have put a stop to it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad I have,” said Margaret; “and dear Ethel behaved so very well. + If she had resisted, it would have puzzled me very much, I must have asked + you to settle it. But it is very odd, papa, Ethel is the one of them all + who treats me most as if I had real authority over her; she lets me scold + her, asks my leave, never seems to recollect for a moment how little older + I am, and how much cleverer she is. I am sure I never should have + submitted so readily. And that always makes it more difficult to me to + direct her; I don’t like to take upon me with her, because it seems wrong + to have her obeying me as if she were a mere child.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a fine creature,” said Dr. May emphatically. “It just shows the + fact, the higher the mind the readier the submission. But you don’t mean + that you have any difficulty with the others?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no. Flora never could need any interference, especially from me, + and Mary is a thorough good girl. I only meant that Ethel lays herself out + to be ruled in quite a remarkable way. I am sure, though she does love + learning, her real love is for goodness and for you, papa.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel would have thought her sacrifice well paid for, had she seen her + father’s look of mournful pleasure. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O ruthful scene! when from a nook obscure, + His little sister doth his peril see, + All playful as she sate, she grows demure, + She finds full soon her wonted spirits flee, + She meditates a prayer to set him free. + SHENSTONE. +</pre> + <p> + The setting sun shone into the great west window of the school at + Stoneborough, on its bare walls, the masters’ desks, the forms polished + with use, and the square, inky, hacked and hewed chests, carved with the + names of many generations of boys. + </p> + <p> + About six or eight little boys were clearing away the books or papers that + they, or those who owned them as fags, had left astray, and a good deal of + talk and laughing was going on among them. “Ha!” exclaimed one, “here has + Harrison left his book behind him that he was showing us the gladiators + in!” and, standing by the third master’s desk, he turned over a page or + two of Smith’s ‘Antiquities’, exclaiming, “It is full of pictures—here’s + an old man blowing the bellows—” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see!” cried Tom May, precipitating himself across the benches and + over the desk, with so little caution, that there was an outcry; and, to + his horror, he beheld the ink spilled over Mr. Harrison’s book, while, + “There, August! you’ve been and done it!” “You’ll catch it!” resounded on + all sides. + </p> + <p> + “What good will staring with your mouth open do!” exclaimed Edward + Anderson, the eldest present. “Here! a bit of blotting-paper this moment!” + </p> + <p> + Tom, dreadfully frightened, handed a sheet torn from an old paper-case + that he had inherited from Harry, saying despairingly, “It won’t take it + out, will it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, little stupid head, but don’t you see, I’m stopping it from running + down the edges, or soaking in. He won’t be the wiser till he opens it + again at that place.” + </p> + <p> + “When he does, he will,” said the bewildered Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Let him. It won’t tell tales.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s coming!” cried another boy, “he is close at the door.” + </p> + <p> + Anderson hastily shut the book over the blotting-paper, which he did not + venture to retain in his hand, dragged Tom down from the desk, and was + apparently entirely occupied with arranging his own box, when Mr. Harrison + came in. Tom crouched behind the raised lid, quaking in every limb, + conscious he ought to confess, but destitute of resolution to do so, and, + in a perfect agony as the master went to his desk, took up the book, and + carried it away, so unconscious, that Larkins, a great wag, only waited + till his back was turned, to exclaim, “Ha! old fellow, you don’t know what + you’ve got there!” + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! May junior, will you never leave off staring? you won’t see a bit + farther for it,” said Edward Anderson, shaking him by the ear; “come to + your senses, and know your friends.” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll open it!” gasped Tom. + </p> + <p> + “So he will, but I’d bet ninety to one, it is not at that page, or if he + does, it won’t tell tales, unless, indeed, he happened to see you standing + there, crouching and shaking. That’s the right way to bring him upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose he opens it, and knows who was in school?” + </p> + <p> + “What then? D’ye think we can’t stand by each other, and keep our own + counsel?” + </p> + <p> + “But the blotting-paper—suppose he knows that!” + </p> + <p> + There was a laugh all round at this, “as if Harrison knew everyone’s + blotting-paper!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but Harry used to write his name all over his—see—and + draw Union Jacks on it.” + </p> + <p> + “If he did, the date is not there. Do you think the ink is going to say + March 2nd? Why should not July have done it last half?” + </p> + <p> + “July would have told if he had,” said Larkins. “That’s no go.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay! That’s the way—the Mays are all like girls—can’t keep a + secret—not one of them. There, I’ve done more for you than ever one + of them would have done—own it—and he strode up to Tom, and + grasped his wrists, to force the confession from him.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but he’ll ask when he finds it out—” + </p> + <p> + “Let him. We know nothing about it. Don’t be coming the good boy over me + like your brothers. That won’t do—I know whose eyes are not too + short-sighted to read upside down.” + </p> + <p> + Tom shrank and looked abject, clinging to the hope that Mr. Harrison would + not open the book for weeks, months, or years. + </p> + <p> + But the next morning his heart died within him, when he beheld the + unfortunate piece of blotting-paper, displayed by Mr. Harrison, with the + inquiry whether any one knew to whom it belonged, and what made it worse + was, that his sight would not reach far enough to assure him whether + Harry’s name was on it, and he dreaded that Norman or Hector Ernescliffe + should recognise the nautical designs. However, both let it pass, and no + one through the whole school attempted to identify it. One danger was + past, but the next minute Mr. Harrison opened his Smith’s ‘Antiquities’ at + the page where stood the black witness. Tom gazed round in despair, he + could not see his brother’s face, but Edward Anderson, from the second + form, returned him a glance of contemptuous encouragement. + </p> + <p> + “This book,” said Mr. Harrison, “was left in school for a quarter of an + hour yesterday. When I opened it again, it was in this condition. Do any + of you know how it happened?” A silence, and he continued, “Who was in + school at this time? Anderson junior, can you tell me anything of it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You know nothing of it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Cold chills crept over Tom, as Mr. Harrison looked round to refresh his + memory. “Larkins, do you know how this happened?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said Larkins boldly, satisfying his conscience because he had + not seen the manner of the overthrow. + </p> + <p> + “Ernescliffe, were you there?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Tom’s timid heart fluttered in dim hope that he had been overlooked, as + Mr. Harrison paused, then said, “Remember, it is concealment that is the + evil, not the damage to the book. I shall have a good opinion ever after + of a boy honest enough to confess, May junior, I saw you,” he added, + hopefully and kindly. “Don’t be afraid to speak out if you did meet with a + mischance.” + </p> + <p> + Tom coloured and turned pale. Anderson and Larkins grimaced at him, to + remind him that they had told untruths for his sake, and that he must not + betray them. It was the justification he wanted; he was relieved to fancy + himself obliged to tell the direct falsehood, for which a long course of + petty acted deceits had paved the way, for he was in deadly terror of the + effects of truth. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” He could hardly believe he had said the words, or that they + would be so readily accepted, for Mr. Harrison had only the impression + that he knew who the guilty person was, and would not tell, and, + therefore, put no more questions to him, but, after a few more vain + inquiries, was baffled, and gave up the investigation. + </p> + <p> + Tom thought he should have been very unhappy; he had always heard that + deceit was a heavy burden, and would give continual stings, but he was + surprised to find himself very comfortable on the whole, and able to + dismiss repentance as well as terror. His many underhand ways with Richard + had taken away the tenderness of his conscience, though his knowledge of + what was right was clear; and he was quite ready to accept the feeling + prevalent at Stoneborough, that truth was not made for schoolboys. + </p> + <p> + The axiom was prevalent, but not universal, and parties were running high. + Norman May, who as head boy had, in play-hours, the responsibility, and + almost the authority of a master, had taken higher ground than was usual + even with the well-disposed; and felt it his duty to check abuses and + malpractices that his predecessors had allowed. His friend, Cheviot, and + the right-minded set, maintained his authority with all their might; but + Harvey Anderson regarded his interference as vexatious, always took the + part of the offenders, and opposed him in every possible way, thus + gathering as his adherents not only the idle and mischievous, but the weak + and mediocre, and, among this set, there was a positive bitterness of + feeling to May, and all whom they considered as belonging to him. + </p> + <p> + In shielding Tom May and leading him to deceive, the younger Anderson had + gained a conquest—in him the Mays had fallen from that pinnacle of + truth which was a standing reproach to the average Stoneborough code—and, + from that time, he was under the especial patronage of his friend. He was + taught the most ingenious arts of saying a lesson without learning it, and + of showing up other people’s tasks; whispers and signs were directed to + him to help him out of difficulties, and he was sought out and put forward + whenever a forbidden pleasure was to be enjoyed by stealth. These were his + stimulants under a heavy bondage; he was teased and frightened, bullied + and tormented, whenever it was the fancy of Ned Anderson and his + associates to make his timidity their sport; he was scorned and + ill-treated, and driven, by bodily terror, into acts alarming to his + conscience, dangerous in their consequences, and painful in the + perpetration; and yet, among all his sufferings, the little coward dreaded + nothing so much as truth, though it would have set him free at once from + this wretched tyranny. + </p> + <p> + Excepting on holidays, and at hours when the town-boys were allowed to go + home, there were strict rules confining all except the sixth form to their + bounds, consisting of two large courts, and an extensive field bordered by + the river and the road. On the opposite side of the bridge was a turnpike + gate, where the keeper exposed stalls of various eatables, very popular + among the boys, chiefly because they were not allowed to deal there. + Ginger-beer could also be procured, and there were suspicions that the + bottles so called contained something contraband. + </p> + <p> + “August,” said Norman, as they were coming home from school one evening, + “did I see you coming over the bridge?” + </p> + <p> + Tom would not answer. + </p> + <p> + “So you have been at Ballhatchet’s gate? I can’t think what could take you + there. If you want tarts, I am sure poor old Betty’s are just as good. + What made you go there?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Well, mind you don’t do it again, or I shall have to take you in hand, + which I shall be very sorry to do. That man is a regular bad character, + and neither my father nor Dr. Hoxton would have one of us have anything to + do with him, as you know.” + </p> + <p> + Tom was in hopes it was over, but Norman went on. “I am afraid you are + getting into a bad way. Why won’t you mind what I have told you plenty of + times before, that no good comes of going after Ned Anderson, and + Axworthy, and that set. What were you doing with them to-day?” But, + receiving no answer, he went on. “You always sulk when I speak to you. I + suppose you think I have no right to row you, but I do it to save you from + worse. You can’t never be found out.” This startled Tom, but Norman had no + suspicion. “If you go on, you will get into some awful scrape, and papa + will be grieved. I would not, for all the world, have him put out of heart + about you. Think of him, Tom, and try to keep straight.” Tom would say + nothing, only reflecting that his elder brother was harder upon him than + any one else would be, and Norman grew warmer. “If you let Anderson junior + get hold of you, and teach you his tricks, you’ll never be good for + anything. He seems good-natured now, but he will turn against you, as he + did with Harry. I know how it is, and you had better take my word, and + trust to me and straightforwardness, when you get into a mess.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m in no scrape,” said Tom, so doggedly, that Norman lost patience, and + spoke with more displeasure. “You will be then, if you go out of bounds, + and run Anderson’s errands, and shirk work. You’d better take care. It is + my place to keep order, and I can’t let you off for being my brother; so + remember, if I catch you going to Ballhatchet’s again, you may make sure + of a licking.” + </p> + <p> + So the warning closed—Tom more alarmed at the aspect of right, which + he fancied terrific, and Norman with some compunction at having lost + temper and threatened, when he meant to have gained him by kindness. + </p> + <p> + Norman recollected his threat with a qualm of dismay when, at the end of + the week, as he was returning from a walk with Cheviot, Tom darted out of + the gate-house. He was flying across the bridge, with something under his + arm, when Norman laid a detaining hand on his collar, making a sign at the + same time to Cheviot to leave them. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here?” said Norman sternly, marching Tom into the + field. “So you’ve been there again. What’s that under your jacket?” + </p> + <p> + “Only—only what I was sent for,” and he tried to squeeze it under + the flap. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? a bottle—” + </p> + <p> + “Only—only a bottle of ink.” + </p> + <p> + Norman seized it, and gave Tom a fierce angry shake, but the indignation + was mixed with sorrow. “Oh, Tom, Tom, these fellows have brought you a + pretty pass. Who would have thought of such a thing from us!” + </p> + <p> + Tom cowered, but felt only terror. + </p> + <p> + “Speak truth,” said Norman, ready to shake it out of him; “is this for + Anderson junior?” + </p> + <p> + Under those eyes, flashing with generous, sorrowful wrath, he dared not + utter another falsehood, but Anderson’s threats chained him, and he + preferred his thraldom to throwing himself on the mercy of his brother who + loved him. He would not speak. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad it is not for yourself,” said Norman; “but do you remember what + I said, in case I found you there again?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t, don’t!” cried the boy. “I would never have gone if they had + not made me.” + </p> + <p> + “Made you?” said Norman, disdainfully, “how?” + </p> + <p> + “They would have thrashed me—they pinched my fingers in the box—they + pulled my ears—oh, don’t—” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little fellow!” said Norman; “but it is your own fault. If you won’t + keep with me, or Ernescliffe, of course they will bully you. But I must + not let you off—I must keep my word!” Tom cried, sobbed, and + implored in vain. “I can’t help it,” he said, “and now, don’t howl! I had + rather no one knew it. It will soon be over. I never thought to have this + to do to one of us.” Tom roared and struggled, till, releasing him, he + said, “There, that will do. Stop bellowing, I was obliged, and I can’t + have hurt you much, have I?” he added more kindly, while Tom went on + crying, and turning from him. “It is nothing to care about, I am sure; + look up;” and he pulled down his hands. “Say you are sorry—speak the + truth—keep with me, and no one shall hurt you again.” + </p> + <p> + Very different this from Tom’s chosen associates; but he was still + obdurate, sullen, and angry, and would not speak, nor open his heart to + those kind words. After one more, “I could not help it, Tom, you’ve no + business to be sulky,” Norman took up the bottle, opened it, smelled, and + tasted, and was about to throw it into the river; when Tom exclaimed, “Oh, + don’t, don’t! what will they do to me? give it to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Did they give you the money to pay for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; let me have it.” + </p> + <p> + “How much was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Fourpence.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll settle that,” and the bottle splashed in the river. “Now then, Tom, + don’t brood on it any more. Here’s a chance for you of getting quit of + their errands. If you will keep in my sight. I’ll take care no one bullies + you, and you may still leave off these disgraceful tricks, and do well.” + </p> + <p> + But Tom’s evil spirit whispered that Norman had beaten him, that he should + never have any diversion again, and that Anderson would punish him; and + there was a sort of satisfaction in seeing that his perverse silence + really distressed his brother. + </p> + <p> + “If you will go on in this way, I can’t help it, but you’ll be sorry some + day,” said Norman, and he walked thoughtfully on, looking back to see + whether Tom was following, as he did slowly, meditating on the way how he + should avert his tyrant’s displeasure. + </p> + <p> + Norman stood for a moment at the door, surveying the court, then walked up + to a party of boys, and laid his hand on the shoulder of one, holding a + silver fourpence to him. “Anderson Junior,” said he, “there’s your money. + I am not going to let Stoneborough School be turned into a gin palace. I + give you notice, it is not to be. Now you are not to bully May junior for + telling me. He did not, I found him out.” + </p> + <p> + Leaving Anderson to himself he looked for Tom, but not seeing him, he + entered the cloister, for it was the hour when he was used to read there, + but he could not fix his mind. He went to the bench where he had lain on + the examination day, and kneeling on it, looked out on the green grass + where the graves were. “Mother! mother!” he murmured, “have I been harsh + to your poor little tender sickly boy? I couldn’t help it. Oh! if you were + but here! We are all going wrong! What shall I do? How should Tom be kept + from this evil?—it is ruining him! mean, false, cowardly, sullen—all + that is worst—and your son—oh! mother! and all I do only makes + him shrink more from me. It will break my father’s heart, and you will not + be there to comfort him.” + </p> + <p> + Norman covered his face with his hands, and a fit of bitter grief came + over him. But his sorrow was now not what it had been before his father’s + resignation had tempered it, and soon it turned to prayer, resolution, and + hope. + </p> + <p> + He would try again to reason quietly with him, when the alarm of detection + and irritation should have gone off, and he sought for the occasion; but, + alas! Tom had learned to look on all reproof as “rowing,” and considered + it as an additional injury from a brother, who, according to the Anderson + view, should have connived at his offences, and turned a deafened ear and + dogged countenance to all he said. The foolish boy sought after the + Andersons still more, and Norman became more dispirited about him, greatly + missing Harry, that constant companion and follower, who would have shared + his perplexities, and removed half of them, in his own part of the school, + by the influence of his high, courageous, and truthful spirit. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Richard was studying hard at home, with greater + hopefulness and vigour than he had ever thrown into his work before. + “Suppose,” Ethel had once said to him, “that when you are a clergyman, you + could be Curate of Cocksmoor, when there is a church there.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” said Richard, smiling at the presumption of the scheme, and yet it + formed itself into a sort of definite hope. Perhaps they might persuade + Mr. Ramsden to take him as a curate with a view to Cocksmoor, and this + prospect, vague as it was, gave an object and hope to his studies. Every + one thought the delay of his examination favourable to him, and he now + read with a determination to succeed. Dr. May had offered to let him read + with Mr. Harrison but Richard thought he was getting on pretty well, with + the help Norman gave him; for it appeared that ever since Norman’s return + from London, he had been assisting Richard, who was not above being taught + by a younger brother; while, on the other hand, Norman, much struck by his + humility, would not for the world have published that he was fit to act as + his elder’s tutor. + </p> + <p> + One evening, when the two boys came in from school, Tom gave a great + start, and, pulling Mary by the sleeve, whispered, “How came that book + here?” + </p> + <p> + “It is Mr. Harrison’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know, but how came it here?” + </p> + <p> + “Richard borrowed it to look out something, and Ethel brought it down.” + </p> + <p> + A little reassured, Tom took up an exciting story-book, and ensconced + himself by the fire, but his agonies were great during the ensuing + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Norman,” Ethel was exclaiming in delight, “do you know this book?” + </p> + <p> + “Smith? Yes, it is in the school library.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s everything in it that one wants, I do believe. Here is such an + account of ancient galleys—I never knew how they managed their banks + of rowers before—oh! and the Greek houses—look at the pictures + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Some of them are the same as Mr. Rivers’s gems,” said Norman, standing + behind her, and turning the leaves, in search of a favourite. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what did I see? is that ink?” said Flora, from the opposite side of + the table. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, didn’t you hear?” said Ethel. “Mr. Harrison told Ritchie when he + borrowed it, that unluckily one day this spring he left it in school, and + some of the boys must have upset an inkstand over it; but, though he asked + them all round, each denied it. How I should hate for such things to + happen! and it was a prize-book too.” + </p> + <p> + While Ethel spoke she opened the marked page, to show the extent of the + calamity, and as she did so Mary exclaimed, “Dear me! how funny! why, how + did Harry’s blotting-paper get in there?” + </p> + <p> + Tom shrank into nothing, set his teeth, and pinched his fingers, ready to + wish they were on Mary’s throat, more especially as the words made some + sensation. Richard and Margaret exchanged looks, and their father, who had + been reading, sharply raised his eyes and said, “Harry’s blotting-paper! + How do you know that, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “It is Harry’s,” said she, all unconscious, “because of that anchor up in + one corner, and the Union Jack in the other. Don’t you see, Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel; “nobody drew that but Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and there are his buttons,” said Mary, much amused and delighted with + these relics of her beloved Harry. “Don’t you remember one day last + holidays, papa desired Harry to write and ask Mr. Ernescliffe what clothes + he ought to have for the naval school, and all the time he was writing the + letter, he was drawing sailors’ buttons on his blotting-paper. I wonder + how ever it got into Mr. Harrison’s book!” + </p> + <p> + Poor Mary’s honest wits did not jump to a conclusion quite so fast as + other people’s, and she little knew what she was doing when, as a great + discovery, she exclaimed, “I know! Harry gave his paper-case to Tom. + That’s the way it got to school!” + </p> + <p> + “Tom!” exclaimed his father, suddenly and angrily, “where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To bed,” muttered the miserable Tom, twisting his hands. A dead silence + of consternation fell on all the room. Mary gazed from one to the other, + mystified at the effect of her words, frightened at her father’s loud + voice, and at Tom’s trembling confusion. The stillness lasted for some + moments, and was first broken by Flora, as if she had caught at a + probability. “Some one might have used the first blotting-paper that came + to hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Tom,” said the doctor, in a voice not loud, but trembling with + anxiety; then laying his hand on his shoulder, “Look in my face.” Tom hung + his head, and his father put his hand under his chin, and raised the pale + terrified face. “Don’t be afraid to tell us the meaning of this. If any of + your friends have done it, we will keep your secret. Look up, and speak + out. How did your blotting-paper come there?” + </p> + <p> + Tom had been attempting his former system of silent sullenness, but there + was anger at Mary, and fear of his father to agitate him, and in his + impatient despair at thus being held and questioned, he burst out into a + violent fit of crying. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t have you roaring here to distress Margaret,” said Dr. May. “Come + into the study with me.” + </p> + <p> + But Tom, who seemed fairly out of himself, would not stir, and a screaming + and kicking scene took place, before he was carried into the study by his + brothers, and there left with his father. Mary, meantime, dreadfully + alarmed, and perceiving that, in some way, she was the cause, had thrown + herself upon Margaret, sobbing inconsolably, as she begged to know what + was the matter, and why papa was angry with Tom—had she made him so? + </p> + <p> + Margaret caressed and soothed her to the best of her ability, trying to + persuade her that, if Tom had done wrong, it was better for him it should + be known, and assuring her that no one could think her unkind, nor a + tell-tale; then dismissing her to bed, and Mary was not unwilling to go, + for she could not bear to meet Tom again, only begging in a whisper to + Ethel, “that, if dear Tom had not done it, she would come and tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid there is no hope of that!” sighed Ethel, as the door closed + on Mary. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” said Flora, “he has not said anything. If he has only done + it, and not confessed, that is not so bad—it is only the usual + fashion of boys.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he been asked? Did he deny it?” said Ethel, looking in Norman’s face, + as if she hardly ventured to put the question, and she only received + sorrowful signs as answers. At the same moment Dr. May called him. No one + spoke. Margaret rested her head on the sofa, and looked very mournful, + Richard stood by the fire without moving limb or feature, Flora worked + fast, and Ethel leaned back on an arm-chair, biting the end of a + paper-knife. + </p> + <p> + The doctor and Norman came back together. “I have sent him up to bed,” + said Dr. May. “I must take him to Harrison to-morrow morning. It is a + terrible business!” + </p> + <p> + “Has he confessed it?” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly call such a thing a confession—I wormed it out bit by + bit—I could not tell whether he was telling truth or not, till I + called Norman in.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has not said anything more untrue—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has though!” said Dr. May indignantly. “He said Ned Anderson put + the paper there, and had been taking up the ink with it—‘twas his + doing—then when I came to cross-examine him I found that though + Anderson did take up the ink, it was Tom himself who knocked it down—I + never heard anything like it—I never could have believed it!” + </p> + <p> + “It must all be Ned Anderson’s doing!” cried Flora. “They are enough to + spoil anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid they have done him a great deal of harm,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “And what have you been about all the time?” exclaimed the doctor, too + keenly grieved to be just. “I should have thought that with you at the + head of the school, the child might have been kept out of mischief; but + there have you been going your own way, and leaving him to be ruined by + the very worst set of boys!” + </p> + <p> + Norman’s colour rose with the extreme pain this unjust accusation caused + him, and his voice, though low, was not without irritation, “I have tried. + I have not done as much as I ought, perhaps, but—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I think not, indeed!” interrupted his father. “Sending a boy there, + brought up as he had been, without the least tendency to deceit—” + </p> + <p> + Here no one could see Norman’s burning cheeks, and brow bent downwards in + the effort to keep back an indignant reply, without bursting out in + exculpation; and Richard looked up, while the three sisters all at once + began, “Oh, no, no, papa”—and left Margaret to finish—“Poor + little Tom had not always been quite sincere.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! and why was I left to send him to school without knowing it? The + place of all others to foster deceit.” + </p> + <p> + “It was my fault, papa,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “And mine,” put in Richard; and she continued, “Ethel told us we were very + wrong, and I wish we had followed her advice. It was by far the best, but + we were afraid of vexing you.” + </p> + <p> + “Every one seems to have been combined to hide what they ought not!” said + Dr. May, though speaking to her much more softly than to Norman, to whom + he turned angrily again. “Pray, how came you not to identify this paper?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know it,” said Norman, speaking with difficulty. “He ought + never to have been sent to school,” said the doctor—“that tendency + was the very worst beginning.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a great pity; I was very wrong,” said Margaret, in great concern. + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean to blame you, my dear,” said her father affectionately. “I + know you only meant to act for the best, but—” and he put his hand + over his face, and then came the sighing groan, which pained Margaret ten + thousand times more than reproaches, and which, in an instant, dispersed + all the indignation burning within Norman, though the pain remained at his + father’s thinking him guilty of neglect, but he did not like, at that + moment, to speak in self-justification. + </p> + <p> + After a short space, Dr. May desired to hear what were the deceptions to + which Margaret had alluded, and made Norman tell what he knew of the + affair of the blotted book. Ethel spoke hopefully when she had heard it. + “Well, do you know, I think he will do better now. You see, Edward made + him conceal it, and he has been going on with it on his mind, and in that + boy’s power ever since; but now it is cleared up and confessed, he will + begin afresh and do better. Don’t you think so, Norman? don’t you, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I should have more hope if I had seen anything like confession or + repentance,” said Dr. May; “but that provoked me more than all—I + could only perceive that he was sorry to be found out, and afraid of + punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, when he has recovered the first fright, he will come to his + better self,” said Margaret; for she guessed, what indeed was the case, + that the doctor’s anger on this first shock of the discovery of the fault + he most abhorred had been so great, that a fearful cowering spirit would + be completely overwhelmed; and, as there had been no sorrow shown for the + fault, there had been none of that softening and relenting that won so + much love and confidence. + </p> + <p> + Every one felt that talking only made them more unhappy, they tried to + return to their occupations, and so passed the time till night. Then, as + Richard was carrying Margaret upstairs, Norman lingered to say, “Papa, I + am very sorry you should think I neglected Tom. I dare say I might have + done better for him, but, indeed, I have tried.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you have, Norman. I spoke hastily, my boy—you will not + think more of it. When a thing like this comes on a man, he hardly knows + what he says.” + </p> + <p> + “If Harry were here,” said Norman, anxious to turn from the real loss and + grief, as well as to talk away that feeling of being apologised to, “it + would all do better. He would make a link with Tom, but I have so little, + naturally, to do with the second form, that it is not easy to keep him in + sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I know that very well. It is no one’s fault but my own; I + should not have sent him there without knowing him better. But you see how + it is, Norman—I have trusted to her, till I have grown neglectful, + and it is well if it is not the ruin of him!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he will take a turn, as Ethel says,” answered Norman cheerfully. + “Good-night, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a blessing to be thankful for in you, at least,” murmured the + doctor to himself. “What other young fellow of that age and spirit would + have borne so patiently with my injustice? Not I, I am sure! a fine father + I show myself to these poor children—neglect, helplessness, temper—Oh, + Maggie!” + </p> + <p> + Margaret had so bad a headache the next day that she could not come + downstairs. The punishment was, they heard, a flogging at the time, and an + imposition so long, that it was likely to occupy a large portion of the + play-hours till the end of the half-year. His father said, and Norman + silently agreed, “a very good thing, it will keep him out of mischief;” + but Margaret only wished she could learn it for him, and took upon herself + all the blame from beginning to end. She said little to her father, for it + distressed him to see her grieved; he desired her not to dwell on the + subject, caressed her, called her his comfort and support, and did all he + could to console her, but it was beyond his power; her sisters, by + listening to her, only made her worse. “Dear, dear papa,” she exclaimed, + “how kind he is! But he can never depend upon me again—I have been + the ruin of my poor little Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Richard quietly, “I can’t see why you should put yourself + into such a state about it.” + </p> + <p> + This took Margaret by surprise. “Have not I done very wrong, and perhaps + hurt Tom for life?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” said Richard. “You and I made a mistake, but it does not + follow that Tom would have kept out of this scrape, if we had told my + father our notion.” + </p> + <p> + “It would not have been on my conscience,” said Margaret—“he would + not have sent him to school.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that,” said Richard. “At any rate we meant to do right, and + only made a mistake. It was unfortunate, but I can’t tell why you go and + make yourself ill, by fancying it worse than it is. The boy has done very + wrong, but people get cured of such things in time, and it is nonsense to + fret as if he were not a mere child of eight years old. You did not teach + him deceit.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I concealed it—papa is disappointed, when he thought he + could trust me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! I suppose no one could expect never to make mistakes,” said + Richard, in his sober tone. + </p> + <p> + “Self-sufficiency!” exclaimed Margaret, “that has been the root of all! Do + you know, Ritchie, I believe I was expecting that I could always judge + rightly.” + </p> + <p> + “You generally do,” said Richard; “no one else could do half what you do.” + </p> + <p> + “So you have said, papa, and all of you, till you have spoilt me. I have + thought it myself, Ritchie.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “But then,” said Margaret, “I have grown to think much of it, and not like + to be interfered with. I thought I could manage by myself, and when I said + I would not worry papa, it was half because I liked the doing and settling + all about the children myself. Oh! if it could have been visited in any + way but by poor Tom’s faults!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Richard, “if you felt so, it was a pity, though I never + should have guessed it. But you see you will never feel so again, and as + Tom is only one, and there are nine to govern, it is all for the best.” + </p> + <p> + His deliberate common-sense made her laugh a little, and she owned he + might be right. “It is a good lesson against my love of being first. But + indeed it is difficult—papa can so little bear to be harassed.” + </p> + <p> + “He could not at first, but now he is strong and well, it is different.” + </p> + <p> + “He looks terribly thin and worn still,” sighed Margaret, “so much older!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I think he will never get back his young looks; but except his weak + arm, he is quite well.” + </p> + <p> + “And then his—his quick way of speaking may do harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that was what I feared for Tom,” said Richard, “and there was the + mistake. I see it now. My father always is right in the main, though he is + apt to frighten one at first, and it is what ought to be that he should + rule his own house. But now, Margaret, it is silly to worry about it any + more—let me fetch baby, and don’t think of it.” + </p> + <p> + And Margaret allowed his reasonableness, and let herself be comforted. + After all, Richard’s solid soberness had more influence over her than + anything else. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Think how simple things and lowly, + Have a part in Nature’s plan, + How the great hath small beginnings, + And the child will be a man. + Little efforts work great actions, + Lessons in our childhood taught + Mould the spirit of that temper + Whereby blessed deeds are wrought. + Cherish, then, the gifts of childhood, + Use them gently, guard them well, + For their future growth and greatness + Who can measure, who can tell! + MORAL SONGS. +</pre> + <p> + The first shock of Tom’s misdemeanour passed away, though it still gave + many an anxious thought to such of the family as felt responsible for him. + </p> + <p> + The girls were busily engaged in preparing an Easter feast for Cocksmoor. + Mr. Wilmot was to examine the scholars, and buns and tea were provided, in + addition to which Ethel designed to make a present to every one—a + great task, considering that the Cocksmoor funds were reserved for + absolute necessaries, and were at a very low ebb. So that twenty-five + gifts were to be composed out of nothing! + </p> + <p> + There was a grand turn-out of drawers of rubbish, all over Margaret, + raising such a cloud of dust as nearly choked her. What cannot rubbish and + willing hands effect! Envelopes and wafer boxes were ornamented with + pictures, bags, needle-cases, and pincushions, beautiful balls, tippets, + both of list and gay print, and even sun-bonnets and pinafores were + contrived, to the supreme importance and delight of Mary and Blanche, who + found it as good or better than play, and ranged their performances in + rows, till the room looked like a bazaar. To provide for boys was more + difficult; but Richard mended old toys, and repaired the frames of slates, + and Norman’s contribution of half-a-crown bought mugs, marbles, and penny + knives, and there were even hopes that something would remain for bodkins, + to serve as nozzles to the bellows, which were the pride of Blanche’s + heart. + </p> + <p> + Never were Easter gifts the source of more pleasure to the givers, + especially when the nursery establishment met Dr. Hoxton near the + pastrycook’s shop, and he bestowed on Blanche a packet of variegated + sugar-plums, all of which she literally poured out at Ethel’s feet, + saying, “I don’t want them. Only let me have one for Aubrey, because he is + so little. All the rest are for the poor children at Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + After this, Margaret declared that Blanche must be allowed to buy the + bodkin, and give her bellows to Jane Taylor, the only Cocksmoor child she + knew, and to whom she always destined in turn every gift that she thought + most successful. + </p> + <p> + So Blanche went with Flora to the toy-shop, and there fell in love with a + little writing-box, that so eclipsed the bellows, that she tried to + persuade Flora to buy it for Jane Taylor, to be kept till she could write, + and was much disappointed to hear that it was out of the question. Just + then a carriage stopped, and from it stepped the pretty little figure of + Meta Rivers. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how do you do? How delightful to meet you! I was wondering if we + should! Little Blanche too!” kissing her, “and here’s Mrs. Larpent—Mrs. + Larpent—Miss Flora May. How is Miss May?” + </p> + <p> + This was all uttered in eager delight, and Flora, equally pleased, + answered the inquiries. “I hope you are not in a hurry,” proceeded Meta; + “I want your advice. You know all about schools, don’t you? I am come to + get some Easter presents for our children, and I am sure you can help me.” + </p> + <p> + “Are the children little or big?” asked Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! all sorts and sizes. I have some books for the great sensible ones, + and some stockings and shoes for the tiresome stupid ones, but there are + some dear little pets that I want nice things for. There—there’s a + doll that looks just fit for little curly-headed Annie Langley, don’t you + think so, Mrs. Larpent?” + </p> + <p> + The price of the doll was a shilling, and there were quickly added to it, + boxes of toys, elaborate bead-work pincushions, polished blue and green + boxes, the identical writing-case—even a small Noah’s ark. Meta + hardly asked the prices, which certainly were not extravagant, since she + had nearly twenty articles for little more than a pound. + </p> + <p> + “Papa has given me a benefaction of £5 for my school-gifts,” said she, “is + not that charming? I wish you would come to the feast. Now, do! It is on + Easter Tuesday. Won’t you come?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, I am afraid we can’t. I should like it very much.” + </p> + <p> + “You never will come to me. You have no compassion.” + </p> + <p> + “We should enjoy coming very much. Perhaps, in the summer, when Margaret + is better.” + </p> + <p> + “Could not she spare any of you? Well, I shall talk to papa, and make him + talk to Dr. May. Mrs. Larpent will tell you I always get my way. Don’t I? + Good-bye. See if I don’t.” + </p> + <p> + She departed, and Flora returned to her own business; but Blanche’s + interest was gone. Dazzled by the more lavish gifts, she looked listlessly + and disdainfully at bodkins, three for twopence. “I wish I might have + bought the writing-box for Janet Taylor! Why does not papa give us money + to get pretty things for the children?” said she, as soon as they came + out. + </p> + <p> + “Because he is not so rich as Miss Rivers’s papa.” + </p> + <p> + Flora was interrupted by meeting the Misses Anderson, who asked, “Was not + that carriage Mr. Rivers’s of Abbotstoke Grange?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. We like Miss Rivers very much,” said Flora, resolved to show that + she was acquainted. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do you visit her? I knew he was a patient of Dr. May.” Flora thought + there was no need to tell that the only call had been owing to the rain, + and continued, “She has been begging us to come to her school feast, but I + do not think we can manage it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed! the Grange is very beautiful, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Very,” said Flora. “Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + Flora had a little uneasiness in her conscience, but it was satisfactory + to have put down Louisa Anderson, who never could aspire to an intimacy + with Miss Rivers. Her little sister looked up—“Why, Flora, have you + seen the Grange?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but papa and Norman said so.” + </p> + <p> + And Blanche showed that the practical lesson on the pomps of the world was + not lost on her, by beginning to wish they were as rich as Miss Rivers. + Flora told her it was wrong to be discontented, but the answer was, “I + don’t want it for myself, I want to have pretty things to give away.” + </p> + <p> + And her mind could not be turned from the thought by any attempt of her + sister. Even when they met Dr. May coming out of the hospital, Blanche + renewed the subject. She poured out the catalogue of Miss Rivers’s + purchases, making appealing attempts at looking under his spectacles into + his eyes, and he perfectly understood the tenor of her song. + </p> + <p> + “I have had a sight, too, of little maidens preparing Easter gifts,” said + he. + </p> + <p> + “Have you, papa? What were they? Were they as nice as Miss Rivers’s?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, but I thought they were the best sort of gifts, for I saw + that plenty of kind thought and clever contrivance went to them, ay, and + some little self-denial too.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, you look as if you meant something; but ours are nothing but nasty + old rubbish.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps some fairy, or something better, has brought a wand to touch the + rubbish, Blanche; for I think that the maidens gave what would have been + worthless kept, but became precious as they gave it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean the list of our flannel petticoats, papa, that Mary has made + into a tippet?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I meant Mary’s own time and pains, as well as the tippet. Would + she have done much good with them otherwise?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she would have played. Oh! then you like the presents because they + are our own making? I never thought of that. Was that the reason you did + not give us any of your sovereigns to buy things with?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I want my sovereigns for the eleven gaping mouths at home, + Blanche. But would not it be a pity to spoil your pleasure? You would have + lost all the chattering and laughing and buzzing I have heard round + Margaret of late, and I am quite sure Miss Rivers can hardly be as happy + in the gifts that cost her nothing, as one little girl who gives her + sugar-plums out of her own mouth!” + </p> + <p> + Blanche clasped her papa’s hand tight, and bounded five or six times. + “They are our presents, not yours,” said she. “Yes, I see. I like them + better now.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay,” said the doctor. “Seeing Miss Rivers’s must not take the shine + out of yours, my little maids; for if you can’t give much, you have the + pleasure of giving the best of all, your labour of love.” Then thinking + on, and speaking to Flora, “The longer I live, the more I see the blessing + of being born in a state of life where you can’t both eat your cake and + give it away.” + </p> + <p> + Flora never was at ease in a conversation with her father; she could not + follow him, and did not like to show it. She answered aside from the mark, + “You would not have Blanche underrate Miss Rivers?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, she is as good and sweet a creature as ever came across me—most + kind to Margaret, and loving to all the world. I like to see one whom care + and grief have never set their grip upon. Most likely she would do like + Ethel, if she had the opportunity, but she has not.” + </p> + <p> + “So she has not the same merit?” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t talk of merit. I mean that the power of sacrifice is a great + advantage. The habit of small sacrifice that is made necessary in a large + family is a discipline that only-children are without: and so, with regard + to wealth, I think people are to be pitied who can give extensively out of + such abundance that they can hardly feel the want.” + </p> + <p> + “In effect, they can do much more,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure of that. They can, of course, but it must be at the cost of + personal labour and sacrifice. I have often thought of the words, ‘Silver + and gold have I none, but such as I have give I thee.’ And ‘such as we + have’ it is that does the good; the gold, if we have it, but, at any rate, + the personal influence; the very proof of sincerity, shown by the exertion + and self-denial, tells far more than money lightly come by, lightly + spent.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that a person who maintained a whole school would do less + good than one who taught one child?” + </p> + <p> + “If the rich person take no pains, and leave the school to take care of + itself—nay, if he only visit it now and then, and never let it + inconvenience him, has he the least security that the scholars are + obtaining any real good from it? If the teacher of the one child is doing + his utmost, he is working for himself at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we could build, say our church and school, on Cocksmoor at once, + and give our superintendence besides?” + </p> + <p> + “If things were ripe for it, the means would come. As it is, it is a fine + field for Ethel and Richard. I believe it will be the making of them both. + I am sure it is training Ethel, or making her train herself, as we could + never have done without it. But here, come in and see old Mrs. Robins. A + visit from you will cheer her up.” + </p> + <p> + Flora was glad of the interruption, the conversation was uncomfortable to + her. She almost fancied her papa was moralising for their good, but that + he carried it too far, for wealthy people assuredly had it in their power + to do great things, and might work as hard themselves; besides, it was + finer in them, there was so much eclat in their stooping to charity. But + her knowledge of his character would not allow her to think for a moment + that he could say aught but from the bottom of his heart—no, it was + one of his one-sided views that led him into paradox. “It was just like + papa,” and so there was no need to attend to it. It was one of his + enthusiasms, he was so very fond of Ethel, probably because of her + likeness to himself. Flora thought Ethel put almost too forward—they + all helped at Cocksmoor, and Ethel was very queer and unformed, and could + do nothing by herself. The only thing Flora did keep in her mind was, that + her papa had spoken to her, as if she were a woman compared with Ethel. + </p> + <p> + Little Blanche made her report of the conversation to Mary, “that it was + so nice; and now she did not care about Miss Rivers’s fine presents at + all, for papa said what one made oneself was better to give than what one + bought. And papa said, too, that it was a good thing not to be rich, for + then one never felt the miss of what one gave away.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret, who overheard the exposition, thought it so much to Blanche’s + credit, that she could not help repeating it in the evening, after the + little girl was gone to bed, when Mr. Wilmot had come in to arrange the + programme for Cocksmoor. So the little fit of discontent and its occasion, + the meeting with Meta Rivers, were discussed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Wilmot, “those Riverses are open-handed. They really seem + to have so much money, that they don’t know what to do with it. My brother + is ready to complain that they spoil his parish. It is all meant so well, + and they are so kind-hearted and excellent, that it is a shame to find + fault, and I tell Charles and his wife that their grumbling at such a + squire proves them the most spoiled of all.” + </p> + <p> + “Indiscriminate liberality?” asked the doctor. “I should guess the old + gentleman to be rather soft!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s one thing. The parish is so small, and there are so few to shower + all this bounty on, and they are so utterly unused to country people. They + seem to think by laying out money they can get a show set of peasants in + rustic cottages, just as they have their fancy cows and poultry—all + that offends the eye out of the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Making it a matter of taste,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I would,” said Norman aside to Ethel. “What’s the use of getting + oneself disgusted?” + </p> + <p> + “One must not begin with showing dislike,” began Ethel, “or—” + </p> + <p> + “Ay—you like rags, don’t you? but hush!” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what I should expect of Mr. Rivers,” said Dr. May; “he has + cultivated his taste till it is getting to be a disease, but his daughter + has no lack of wit.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not. Charles and Mary are very fond of her, but she is entirely + inexperienced, and that is a serious thing with so much money to throw + about. She pays people for sending their children to school, and keeping + their houses tidy; and there is so much given away, that it is enough to + take away all independence and motive for exertion. The people speculate + on it, and take it as a right; by-and-by there will be a reaction—she + will find out she is imposed upon, take offence, and for the rest of her + life will go about saying how ungrateful the poor are!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a pity good people won’t have a little common-sense,” said Dr. May. + “But there’s something so bewitching in that little girl, that I can’t + give her up. I verily believe she will right herself.” + </p> + <p> + “I have scarcely seen her,” said Mr. Wilmot. “She has won papa’s heart by + her kindness to me,” said Margaret, smiling. “You see her beautiful + flowers? She seems to me made to lavish pleasures on others wherever she + goes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, they are most kind-hearted,” said Mr. Wilmot. “It is only the + excess of a virtue that could be blamed in them, and they are most + valuable to the place. She will learn experience in time—I only hope + she will not be spoiled.” + </p> + <p> + Flora felt as if her father must be thinking his morning’s argument + confirmed, and she was annoyed. But she thought there was no reason why + wealth should not be used sensibly, and if she were at the head of such an + establishment as the Grange, her charity should be so well regulated as to + be the subject of general approbation. + </p> + <p> + She wanted to find some one else on her side, and, as they went to bed, + she said to Ethel, “Don’t you wish we had some of this superfluity of the + Riverses for poor Cocksmoor?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish we had anything for Cocksmoor! Here’s a great hole in my boot, and + nurse says I must get a new pair, that is seven-and-sixpence gone! I shall + never get the first pound made up towards building!” + </p> + <p> + “And pounds seem nothing to them,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but if they don’t manage right with them! I’ll tell you, Flora, I + got into a fit of wishing the other day; it does seem such a grievous pity + to see those children running to waste for want of daily teaching, and + Jenny Hall had forgotten everything. I was vexed, and thought it was all + no use while we could not do more; but just then I began to look out the + texts Ritchie had marked for me to print for them to learn, and the first + was, ‘Be thou faithful over a few things, and I will make thee ruler over + many things,’ and then I thought perhaps we were learning to be faithful + with a few things. I am sure what they said to-night showed it was lucky + we have not more in our hands. I should do wrong for ever with the little + we have if it were not for Ritchie and Margaret. By the time we have + really got the money together for the school, perhaps I shall have more + sense.” + </p> + <p> + “Got the money! As if we ever could!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! we shall and will. It need not be more than £70, Ritchie says, + and I have twelve shillings for certain, put out from the money for hire + of the room, and the books and clothes, and, in spite of these horrid + boots, I shall save something out of this quarter, half-a-crown at least. + And I have another plan besides—” + </p> + <p> + But Flora had to go down to Margaret’s room to bed. Flora was always ready + to throw herself into the present, and liked to be the most useful person + in all that went forward, so that no thoughts of greatness interfered with + her enjoyment at Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + The house seemed wild that Easter Monday morning. Ethel, Mary, and + Blanche, flew about in all directions, and in spite of much undoing of + their own arrangements, finished their preparations so much too early, + that, at half-past eleven, Mary complained that she had nothing to do, and + that dinner would never come. + </p> + <p> + Many were the lamentations at leaving Margaret behind, but she answered + them by talking of the treat of having papa all to herself, for he had + lent them the gig, and promised to stay at home all the afternoon with + her. + </p> + <p> + The first division started on foot directly after dinner, the real Council + of education, as Norman called them, namely, Mr. Wilmot, Richard, Ethel, + and Mary; Flora, the other member, waited to take care of Blanche and + Aubrey, who were to come in the gig, with the cakes, tea-kettles, and + prizes, driven by Norman. Tom and Hector Ernescliffe were invited to join + the party, and many times did Mary wish for Harry. + </p> + <p> + Supremely happy were the young people as they reached the common, and + heard the shout of tumultuous joy, raised by their pupils, who were on the + watch for them. All was now activity. Everybody tripped into Mrs. Green’s + house, while Richard and Ethel ran different ways to secure that the fires + were burning, which they had hired, to boil their kettles, with the tea in + them. + </p> + <p> + Then when the kitchen was so full that it seemed as if it could hold no + more, some kind of order was produced, the children were seated on their + benches, and, while the mothers stood behind to listen, Mr. Wilmot began + to examine, as well as he could in so crowded an audience. + </p> + <p> + There was progress. Yes, there was. Only three were as utterly rude and + idealess as they used to be at Christmas. Glimmerings had dawned on most, + and one—Una M’Carthy—was fit to come forward to claim Mr. + Wilmot’s promise of a Prayer-book. She could really read and say the + Catechism—her Irish wit and love of learning had outstripped all the + rest—and she was the pride of Ethel’s heart, fit, now, to present + herself on equal terms with the Stoneborough set, as far as her sense was + concerned—though, alas! neither present nor exhortation had + succeeded in making her anything, in looks, but a picturesque + tatterdemalion, her sandy elf locks streaming over a pair of eyes, so + dancing and gracieuses, that it was impossible to scold her. + </p> + <p> + With beating heart, as if her own success in life depended for ever on the + way her flock acquitted themselves, Ethel stood by Mr. Wilmot, trying to + read answers coming out of the dull mouths of her children, and looking + exultingly at Richard whenever some good reply was made, especially when + Una answered an unexpected question. It was too delightful to hear how + well she remembered all the history up to the flood, and how prettily it + came out in her Irish accent! That made up for all the atrocious stupidity + of others, who, after being told every time since they had begun who gave + their names, now chose to forget. + </p> + <p> + In the midst, while the assembly were listening with admiration to the + reading of the scholar next in proficiency to Una, a boy who could read + words of five letters without spelling, there was a fresh squeezing at the + door, and, the crowd opening as well as it could, in came Flora and + Blanche, while Norman’s head was seen for a moment in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + Flora’s whisper to Ethel was her first discovery that the closeness and + the heat of the room was nearly overpowering. Her excitement had made all + be forgotten. “Could not a window be opened?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Green interfered—it had been nailed up because her husband had + the rheumatiz! + </p> + <p> + “Where’s Aubrey?” asked Mary. + </p> + <p> + “With Norman. Norman said he would not let him go into the black-hole, so + he has got him out of doors. Ethel, we must come out! You don’t know what + an atmosphere it is! Blanche, go out to Norman!” + </p> + <p> + “Flora, Flora! you don’t consider,” said Ethel, in an agony. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. It is not at all cold. Let them have their presents out of + doors and eat their buns.” + </p> + <p> + Richard and Mr. Wilmot agreed with Flora, and the party were turned out. + Ethel did own, when she was in the open air, “that it had been rather + hot.” + </p> + <p> + Norman’s face was a sight, as he stood holding Aubrey in his arms, to + gratify the child’s impatience. The stifling den, the uncouth aspect of + the children, the head girl so very ragged a specimen, thoroughly revolted + his somewhat fastidious disposition. This was Ethel’s delight! to this she + made so many sacrifices! this was all that her time and labour had + effected! He did not wish to vex her but it was more than he could stand. + </p> + <p> + However, Ethel was too much engrossed to look for sympathy. It was a fine + spring day, and on the open space of the common the arrangements were + quickly made. The children stood in a long line, and the baskets were + unpacked. Flora and Ethel called the names, Mary and Blanche gave the + presents, and assuredly the grins, courtesies, and pulls of the forelock + they elicited, could not have been more hearty for any of Miss Rivers’s + treasures. The buns and the kettles of tea followed—it was perfect + delight to entertainers and entertained, except when Mary’s dignity was + cruelly hurt by Norman’s authoritatively taking a kettle out of her hands, + telling her she would be the death of herself or somebody else, and + reducing her to the mere rank of a bun distributor, which Blanche and + Aubrey could do just as well; while he stalked along with a grave and + resigned countenance, filling up the cups held out to him by timid-looking + children. Mary next fell in with Granny Hall, who had gone into such an + ecstasy over Blanche and Aubrey, that Blanche did not know which way to + look; and Aubrey, in some fear that the old woman might intend to kiss + him, returned the compliments by telling her she was “ugly up in her + face,” at which she laughed heartily, and uttered more vehement + benedictions. + </p> + <p> + Finally, the three best children, boys and girls, were to be made fit to + be seen, and recommended by Mr. Wilmot to the Sunday-school and penny club + at Stoneborough, and, this being proclaimed and the children selected, the + assembly dispersed, Mr. Wilmot rejoicing Ethel and Richard by saying, + “Well, really, you have made a beginning. There is an improvement in tone + among those children, that is more satisfactory than any progress they may + have made.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel’s eyes beamed, and she hurried to tell Flora. Richard coloured and + gave his quiet smile, then turned to put things in order for their return. + </p> + <p> + “Will you drive home, Richard?” said Norman, coming up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you wish it?” said Richard, who had many minor arrangements to + make, and would have preferred walking home independently. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, I have a headache, and walking may take it off,” said + Norman, taking off his hat and passing his fingers through his hair. + </p> + <p> + “A headache again—I am sorry to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only that suffocating den of yours. My head ached from the moment I + looked into it. How can you take Ethel into such a hole, Richard? It is + enough to kill her to go on with it for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not so every day,” said the elder brother quietly. “It is a warm + day, and there was an unusual crowd.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall speak to my father,” exclaimed Norman, with somewhat of the + supercilious tone that he had now and then been tempted to address to his + brother. “It is not fit that Ethel should give up everything, health and + all, to such a set as these. They look as if they had been picked out of + the gutter—dirt, squalor, everything disgusting, and summer coming + on, too, and that horrid place with no window to open! It is utterly + unbearable!” + </p> + <p> + Richard stooped to pick up a heavy basket, then smiled and said, “You must + get over such things as these if you mean to be a clergyman, Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever I am to be, it does not concern the girls being in such a place + as this. I am surprised that you could suffer it.” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer—Richard was walking off with his basket, and + putting it into the carriage. Norman was not pleased with himself, but + thought it his duty to let his father know his opinion of Ethel’s weekly + resort. All he wished was to avoid Ethel herself, not liking to show her + his sentiments, and he was glad to see her put into the gig with Aubrey + and Mary. + </p> + <p> + They rushed into the drawing-room, full of glee, when they came home, all + shouting their news together, and had not at first leisure to perceive + that Margaret had some tidings for them in return. Mr. Rivers had been + there, with a pressing invitation to his daughter’s school-feast, and it + had been arranged that Flora and Ethel should go and spend the day at the + Grange, and their father come to dine, and fetch them home in the evening. + Margaret had been much pleased with the manner in which the thing was + done. When Dr. May, who seemed reluctant to accept the proposal that + related to himself, was called out of the room, Mr. Rivers had, in a most + kind manner, begged her to say whether she thought it would be painful to + him, or whether it might do his spirits good. She decidedly gave her + opinion in favour of the invitation, Mr. Rivers gained his point, and she + had ever since been persuading her father to like the notion, and assuring + him it need not be made a precedent for the renewal of invitations to dine + out in the town. He thought the change would be pleasant for his girls, + and had, therefore, consented. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, papa! thank you!” cried Ethel, enraptured, as soon as he came + into the room. “How very kind of you! How I have wished to see the Grange, + and all Norman talks about! Oh, dear! I am so glad you are going there + too!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what should you do with me?” said Dr. May, who felt and looked + depressed at this taking up of the world again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! I should not like it at all without you! It would be no fun at + all by ourselves. I wish Flora would come home. How pleased she will be! + Papa, I do wish you would look as if you didn’t mind it! I can’t enjoy it + if you don’t like going.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall when I am there, my dear,” said the doctor affectionately, + putting his arm around her as she stood by him. “It will be a fine day’s + sport for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But can’t you like it beforehand, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Not just this minute, Ethel,” said he, with his bright, sad smile. “All I + like just now is my girl’s not being able to do without me; but we’ll do + the best we can. So your flock acquitted themselves brilliantly? Who is + your Senior Wrangler?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel threw herself eagerly into the history of the examination, and had + almost forgotten the invitation till she heard the front door open. Then + it was not she, but Margaret, who told Flora—Ethel could not, as she + said, enjoy what seemed to sadden her father. Flora received it much more + calmly. “It will be very pleasant,” said she; “it was very kind of papa to + consent. You will have Richard and Norman, Margaret, to be with you in the + evening.” + </p> + <p> + And, as soon as they went upstairs, Ethel began to write down the list of + prizes in her school journal, while Flora took out the best evening + frocks, to study whether the crape looked fresh enough. + </p> + <p> + The invitation was a convenient subject of conversation, for Norman had so + much to tell his sisters of the curiosities they must look for at the + Grange, that he was not obliged to mention Cocksmoor. He did not like to + mortify Ethel by telling her his intense disgust, and he knew he was about + to do what she would think a great injury by speaking to his father on the + subject; but he thought it for her real welfare, and took the first + opportunity of making to his father and Margaret a most formidable + description of Ethel’s black-hole. It quite alarmed Margaret, but the + doctor smiled, saying, “Ay, ay, I know the face Norman puts on if he looks + into a cottage.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Norman, with some mortification, “all I know is, that my head + ached all the rest of the day.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely, but your head is not Ethel’s, and there were twice as many + people as the place was intended to hold.” + </p> + <p> + “A stuffy hole, full of peat-smoke, and with a window that can’t open at + the best of times.” + </p> + <p> + “Peat-smoke is wholesome,” said Dr. May, looking provoking. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what it is, papa, or you would never let Ethel spend her + life there. It is poisonous!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take care of Ethel,” said Dr. May, walking off, and leaving Norman + in a state of considerable annoyance at being thus treated. He broke out + into fresh exclamations against the horrors of Cocksmoor, telling Margaret + she had no idea what a den it was. + </p> + <p> + “But, Norman, it can’t be so very bad, or Richard would not allow it.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard is deluded!” said Norman; “but if he chooses to run after dirty + brats, why should he take Ethel there?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Norman, you know it is all Ethel’s doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know she has gone crazy after them, and given up all her Greek for + it. It is past endurance!” said Norman, who had worked himself up into + great indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but surely, Norman, it is better they should do what they can for + those poor creatures, than for Ethel to learn Greek.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that. Let those who are fit for nothing else go and drone + over A B C with ragged children, if they like. It is just their vocation; + but there is an order in everything, Margaret, and minds of a superior + kind are intended for higher purposes, not to be wasted in this manner.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know whether they are wasted,” said Margaret, not quite liking + Norman’s tone, though she had not much to say to his arguments. + </p> + <p> + “Not wasted? Not in doing what any one can do? I know what you’ll say + about the poor. I grant it, but high ability must be given for a purpose, + not to be thrown away. It is common-sense, that some one must be meant to + do the dirty work.” + </p> + <p> + “I see what you mean, Norman, but I don’t quite like that to be called by + such a name. I think—” she hesitated. “Don’t you think you dislike + such things more than—” + </p> + <p> + “Any one must abominate dirt and slovenliness. I know what you mean. My + father thinks ‘tis all nonsense in me, but his profession has made him + insensible to such things, and he fancies every one else is the same! Now, + Margaret, am I unreasonable?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I don’t know, dear Norman,” said Margaret, hesitating, and + feeling it her duty to say something; “I dare say it was very + disagreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think, too, that I made a disturbance for nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed I don’t, nor does dear papa. I have no doubt he will see + whether it is proper for Ethel. All I think he meant is, that perhaps your + not being well last winter has made you a little more sensitive in such + things.” + </p> + <p> + Norman paused, and coloured. He remembered the pain it had given him to + find himself incapable of being of use to his father, and that he had + resolved to conquer the weakness of nerve of which he was ashamed; but he + did not like to connect this with his fastidious feelings of refinement. + He would not own to himself that they were over nice, and, at the bottom + of all this justification, rankled Richard’s saying, that he who cared for + such things was unfit for a clergyman. Norman’s secret thought was, it was + all very well for those who could only aspire to parish work in wretched + cottages—people who could distinguish themselves were more useful at + the university, forming minds, and opening new discoveries in learning. + </p> + <p> + Was Norman quite proof against the consciousness of daily excelling all + his competitors? His superiority had become even more manifest this + Easter, when Cheviot and Forder, the two elder boys whom he had + outstripped, left the school, avowedly, because it was not worth while for + them to stay, since they had so little chance of the Randall scholarship. + Norman had now only to walk over the course, no one even approaching him + but Harvey Anderson. + </p> + <p> + Meta Rivers always said that fine weather came at her call, and so it did—glowing + sunshine streaming over the shaven turf, and penetrating even the solid + masses of the great cedar. + </p> + <p> + The carriage was sent for the Misses May, and at two o’clock they arrived. + Flora, extremely anxious that Ethel should comport herself discreetly; and + Ethel full of curiosity and eagerness, the only drawback her fears that + her papa was doing what he disliked. She was not in the least shy, and did + not think about her manner enough to be troubled by the consciousness that + it had a good deal of abruptness and eagerness, and that her short sight + made her awkward. Meta met them with outstretched hands and a face beaming + with welcome. “I told you I should get my way!” she said triumphantly, + and, after her warm greeting, she looked with some respect at the face of + the Miss May who was so very clever. It certainly was not what she + expected, not at all like either of the four sisters she had already seen—brown, + sallow, and with that sharp long nose, and the eager eyes, and brow a + little knit by the desire to see as far as she could. It was pleasanter to + look at Flora. + </p> + <p> + Ethel left the talk chiefly to Flora—there was wonder and study + enough for her in the grounds and garden, and when Mrs. Larpent tried to + enter into conversation with her, she let it drop two or three times while + she was peering hard at a picture and trying to make out its subject. + However, when they all went out to walk to church, Ethel lighted up, and + talked, admired, and asked questions in her quick, eager way, which + interested Mrs. Larpent greatly. The governess asked after Norman, and no + more was wanted to produce a volume of histories of his successes, till + Flora turned as she walked before with Meta, saying, “Why, Ethel, you are + quite overwhelming Mrs. Larpent.” + </p> + <p> + But some civil answer convinced Ethel that what she said was interesting, + and she would not be stopped in her account of their anxieties on the day + of the examination. Flora was pleased that Meta, catching some words, + begged to hear more, and Flora gave an account of the matter, soberer in + terms, but quietly setting Norman at a much greater distance from all his + competitors. + </p> + <p> + After church came the feast in the school. It was a large commodious + building. Meta declared it was very tiresome that it was so good inside, + it was so ugly, she should never rest till papa had built her a real + beauty. They found Mr. and Mrs. Charles Wilmot in the school, with a very + nice well-dressed set of boys and girls, and—But there is no need to + describe the roast-beef and plum-pudding, “the feast ate merrily,” and + Ethel was brilliantly happy waiting on the children, and so was + sunny-hearted Meta. Flora was too busy in determining what the Riverses + might be thinking of her and her sister to give herself up to the + enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + Ethel found a small boy looking ready to cry at an untouched slice of + beef. She examined him whether he could cut it, and at last discovered + that, as had been the case with one or two of her own brothers at the same + age, meat was repugnant to him. In her vehement manner she flew off to + fetch him some pudding, and hurrying up, as she thought, to Mr. Charles + Wilmot, who had been giving it out, she thrust her plate between him and + the dish, and had begun her explanation when she perceived it was a + stranger, and she stood, utterly discomfited, not saying, “I beg your + pardon,” but only blushing, awkward and confused, as he spoke to her, in a + good-natured, hospitable manner, which showed her it must be Mr. Rivers. + She obtained her pudding, and, turning hastily, retreated. + </p> + <p> + “Meta,” said Mr. Rivers, as his daughter came out of the school with him, + for, open and airy as it was, the numbers and the dinner made him regard + it as Norman had viewed the Cocksmoor room, “was that one of the Miss + Mays?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa, Ethel, the third, the clever one.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought she must be one of them from her dress; but what a difference + between her and the others!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rivers was a great admirer of beauty, and Meta, brought up to be the + same, was disappointed, but consoled herself by admiring Flora. Ethel, + after the awkwardness was over, thought no more of the matter, but went on + in full enjoyment of the feast. The eating finished, the making of presents + commenced, and choice ones they were. The smiles of Meta and of the + children were a pretty sight, and Ethel thought she had never seen + anything so like a beneficent fairy. Mr. and Mrs. Wilmot said their words + of counsel and encouragement, and, by five o’clock, all was over. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am sorry!” said Meta, “Easter won’t come again for a whole year, + and it has been so delightful. How that dear little Annie smiled and + nursed her doll! I wish I could see her show it to her mother! Oh, how + nice it is! I am so glad papa brought me to live in the country. I don’t + think anything can be so charming in all the world as seeing little + children happy!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel could not think how the Wilmots could have found it in their heart + to regret the liberality of this sweet damsel, on whom she began to look + with Norman’s enthusiastic admiration. + </p> + <p> + There was time for a walk round the grounds, Meta doing the honours to + Flora, and Ethel walking with Mrs. Larpent. Both pairs were very good + friends, and the two sisters admired and were charmed with the beauty of + the gardens and conservatories—Ethel laying up a rich store of + intelligence for Margaret; but still she was not entirely happy; her papa + was more and more on her mind. He had looked dispirited at breakfast; he + had a long hard day’s work before him, and she was increasingly uneasy at + the thought that it would be a painful effort to him to join them in the + evening. Her mind was full of it when she was conducted, with Flora, to + the room where they were to dress; and when Flora began to express her + delight, her answer was only that she hoped it was not very unpleasant to + papa. + </p> + <p> + “It is not worth while to be unhappy about that, Ethel. If it is an + effort, it will be good for him when he is once here. I know he will enjoy + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should think he would—I hope he will. He must like you to + have such a friend as Miss Rivers. How pretty she is!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Ethel, it is high time to dress. Pray make yourself look nice—don’t + twist up your hair in that any-how fashion.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel sighed, then began talking fast about some hints on school-keeping + which she had picked up for Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + Flora’s glossy braids were in full order, while Ethel was still struggling + to get her plait smooth, and was extremely beholden to her sister for + taking it into her own hands and doing the best with it that its thinness + and roughness permitted. And then Flora pinched and pulled and arranged + Ethel’s frock, in vain attempts to make it sit like her own—those + sharp high bones resisted all attempts to disguise them. “Never mind, + Flora, it is quite tidy, I am sure, there—do let me be in peace. You + are like old nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “So those are all the thanks I get?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, thank you very much, dear Flora. You are a famous person. How I + wish Margaret could see that lovely mimosa!” + </p> + <p> + “And, Ethel, do take care. Pray don’t poke and spy when you come into the + room, and don’t frown when you are trying to see. I hope you won’t have + anything to help at dinner. Take care how you manage.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll try,” said Ethel meekly, though a good deal tormented, as Flora went + on with half a dozen more injunctions, closed by Meta’s coming to fetch + them. Little Meta did not like to show them her own bedroom—she + pitied them so much when she thought of the contrast. She would have liked + to put Flora’s arm through her’s, but she thought, it would look + neglectful of Ethel; so she only showed the way downstairs. Ethel forgot + all her sister’s orders; for there stood her father, and she looked most + earnestly at his face. It was cheerful, and his voice sounded well pleased + as he greeted Meta; then resumed an animated talk with Mr. Rivers. Ethel + drew as near him as she could; she had a sense of protection, and could + open to full enjoyment when she saw him bright. At the first pause in the + conversation, the gentlemen turned to the young ladies. Mr. Rivers began + talking to Flora, and Dr. May, after a few pleasant words to Meta, went + back to Ethel. He wanted her to see his favourite pictures—he led + her up to them, made her put on his spectacles to see them better, and + showed her their special merits. Mr. Rivers and the others joined them; + Ethel said little, except a remark or two in answer to her papa, but she + was very happy—she felt that he liked to have her with him; and + Meta, too, was struck by the soundness of her few sayings, and the + participation there seemed to be in all things between the father and + daughter. + </p> + <p> + At dinner Ethel went on pretty well. She was next to her father, and was + very glad to find the dinner so grand, that no side-dish fell to her lot + to be carved. There was a great deal of pleasant talk, such as the girls + could understand, though they did not join much in it, except that now and + then Dr. May turned to Ethel as a reference for names and dates. To make + up for silence at dinner, there was a most confidential chatter in the + drawing-room. Flora and Meta on one side, hand in hand, calling each other + by their Christian names, Mrs. Larpent and Ethel on the other. Flora + dreaded only that Ethel was talking too much, and revealing too much in + how different style they lived. Then came the gentlemen, Dr. May begging + Mr. Rivers to show Ethel one of his prints, when Ethel stooped more than + ever, as if her eyelashes were feelers, but she was in transports of + delight, and her embarrassment entirely at an end in her admiration, as + she exclaimed and discussed with her papa, and by her hearty appreciation + made Mr. Rivers for the time forget her plainness. Music followed; Flora + played nicely, Meta like a well-taught girl; Ethel went on musing over the + engravings. The carriage was announced, and so ended the day in Norman’s + fairy-land. Ethel went home, leaning hard against her papa, talking to him + of Raphael’s Madonnas; and looking out at the stars, and thinking how the + heavenly beauty of those faces that, in the prints she had been turning + over, seemed to be connected with the glories of the dark-blue sky and + glowing stars. “As one star differeth from another star in glory,” + murmured she; “that was the lesson to-day, papa;” and when she felt him + press her hand, she knew he was thinking of that last time she had heard + the lesson, when he had not been with her, and her thoughts went with his, + though not another word was spoken. + </p> + <p> + Flora hardly knew when they ceased to talk. She had musings equally + engrossing of her own. She saw she was likely to be very intimate with + Meta Rivers, and she was roaming away into schemes for not letting the + intercourse drop, and hopes of being admitted to many a pleasure as yet + little within her reach—parties, balls, London, itself, and, above + all, the satisfaction of being admired. The certainty that Mr. Rivers + thought her pretty and agreeable had gratified her all the evening, and if + he, with his refined taste, thought so, what would others think? Her only + fear was, that Ethel’s awkwardness might make an unfavourable impression, + but, at least, she said to herself, it was anything but vulgar + awkwardness. + </p> + <p> + Their reflections were interrupted by the fly stopping. It was at a little + shop in the outskirts of the town, and Dr. May, explained that he wanted + to inquire for a patient. He went in for a moment, then came back to + desire that they would go home, for he should be detained some little + time. No one need sit up for him—he would let himself in. + </p> + <p> + It seemed a comment on Ethel’s thoughts, bringing them back to the present + hour. That daily work of homely mercy, hoping for nothing again, was + surely the true way of doing service. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WATCHMAN. How, if he will not stand? + DOGBERRY. Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go. + Much Ado about Nothing. +</pre> + <p> + Dr. May promised Margaret that he would see whether the black-hole of + Cocksmoor was all that Norman depicted it, and, accordingly, he came home + that way on Tuesday evening the next week, much to the astonishment of + Richard, who was in the act of so mending the window that it might let in + air when open, and keep it out when shut, neither of which purposes had it + ever yet answered. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May walked in, met his daughter’s look of delight and surprise, spoke + cheerfully to Mrs. Green, a hospital acquaintance of his, like half the + rest of the country, and made her smile and curtsey by asking if she was + not surprised at such doings in her house; then looked at the children, + and patted the head that looked most fit to pat, inquired who was the best + scholar, and offered a penny to whoever could spell copper tea-kettle, + which being done by three merry mortals, and having made him extremely + popular, he offered Ethel a lift, and carried her off between him and + Adams, on whom he now depended for driving him, since Richard was going to + Oxford at once. + </p> + <p> + It was possible to spare him now. Dr. May’s arm was as well as he expected + it ever would be; he had discarded the sling, and could use his hand + again, but the arm was still stiff and weak—he could not stretch it + out, nor use it for anything requiring strength; it soon grew tired with + writing, and his daughters feared that it ached more than he chose to + confess, when they saw it resting in the breast of his waistcoat. Driving + he never would have attempted again, even if he could, and he had quite + given up carving—he could better bear to sit at the side than at the + bottom of the dinner-table. + </p> + <p> + Means of carrying Margaret safely had been arranged by Richard, and there + was no necessity for longer delaying his going to Oxford, but he was so + unwillingly spared by all, as to put him quite into good spirits. Ethel + was much concerned to lose him from Cocksmoor, and dreaded hindrances to + her going thither without his escort; but she had much trust in having her + father on her side, and meant to get authority from him for the propriety + of going alone with Mary. + </p> + <p> + She did not know how Norman had jeopardised her projects, but the danger + blew over. Dr. May told Margaret that the place was clean and wholesome, + and though more smoky than might be preferred, there was nothing to do any + one in health any harm, especially when the walk there and back was over + the fresh moor. He lectured Ethel herself on opening the window, now that + she could; and advised Norman to go and spend an hour in the school, that + he might learn how pleasant peat-smoke was—a speech Norman did not + like at all. The real touchstone of temper is ridicule on a point where we + do not choose to own ourselves fastidious, and if it and been from any one + but his father, Norman would not have so entirely kept down his + irritation. + </p> + <p> + Richard passed his examination successfully, and Dr. May wrote himself to + express his satisfaction. Nothing went wrong just now except little Tom, + who seemed to be justifying Richard’s fears of the consequence of exciting + his father’s anger. At home, he shrank and hesitated at the simplest + question if put by his father suddenly; and the appearance of cowardice + and prevarication displeasing Dr. May further, rendered his tone louder, + and frightened Tom the more, giving his manner an air of sullen reserve + that was most unpleasant. At school it was much the same—he kept + aloof from Norman, and threw himself more into the opposite faction, by + whom he was shielded from all punishment, except what they chose + themselves to inflict on him. + </p> + <p> + Norman’s post as head of the school was rendered more difficult by the + departure of his friend Cheviot, who had always upheld his authority; + Harvey Anderson did not openly transgress, for he had a character to + maintain, but it was well known throughout the school that there was a + wide difference between the boys, and that Anderson thought it absurd, + superfluous, and troublesome in May not to wink at abuses which appeared + to be licensed by long standing. When Edward Anderson, Axworthy, and their + set, broke through rules, it was with the understanding that the second + boy in the school would support them, if he durst. + </p> + <p> + The summer and the cricket season brought the battle of Ballhatchet’s + house to issue. The cricket ground was the field close to it, and for the + last two or three years there had been a frequent custom of despatching + juniors to his house for tarts and ginger-beer bottles. Norman knew of + instances last year in which this had led to serious mischief, and had + made up his mind that, at whatever loss of popularity, it was his duty to + put a stop to the practice. + </p> + <p> + He was an ardent cricketer himself, and though the game did not, in + anticipation, seem to him to have all the charms of last year, he entered + into it with full zest when once engaged. But his eye was on all parts of + the field, and especially on the corner by the bridge, and the boys knew + him well enough to attempt nothing unlawful within the range of that + glance. However, the constant vigilance was a strain too great to be + always kept up, and he had reason to believe he was eluded more than once. + </p> + <p> + At last came a capture, something like that of Tom, one which he could not + have well avoided making. The victim was George Larkins, the son of a + clergyman in the neighbourhood, a wild, merry varlet, who got into + mischief rather for the sake of the fun than from any bad disposition. + </p> + <p> + His look of consternation was exaggerated into a most comical caricature, + in order to hide how much of it was real. + </p> + <p> + “So you are at that trick, Larkins.” + </p> + <p> + “There! that bet is lost!” exclaimed Larkins. “I laid Hill half-a-crown + that you would not see me when you were mooning over your verses!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have seen you. And now—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, you would not thrash a fellow when you have just lost him + half-a-crown! Single misfortunes never come alone, they say; so there’s my + money and my credit gone, to say nothing of Ballhatchet’s ginger-beer!” + </p> + <p> + The boy made such absurd faces, that Norman could hardly help laughing, + though he wished to make it a serious affair. “You know, Larkins, I have + given out that such things are not to be. It is a melancholy fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, so you must make an example of me!” said Larkins, pretending to look + resigned. “Better call all the fellows together, hadn’t you, and make it + more effective? It would be grateful to one’s feelings, you know; and + June,” added he, with a ridiculous confidential air, “if you’ll only lay + it on soft, I’ll take care it makes noise enough. Great cry, little wool, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” said Norman. “I’ll take care you are example enough. What + did you give for those articles?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen-pence halfpenny. Rascally dear, isn’t it? but the old rogue makes + one pay double for the risk! You are making his fortune, you have raised + his prices fourfold.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take care of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, where are you taking me? Back to him?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to gratify your wish to be an example.” + </p> + <p> + “A gibbet! a gibbet” cried Larkins. “I’m to be turned off on the spot + where the crime took place—a warning to all beholders. Only let me + send home for old Neptune’s chain, if you please, sir—if you hang me + in the combined watch-chains of the school, I fear they would give way and + defeat the purposes of justice.” + </p> + <p> + They were by this time at the bridge. “Come in,” said Norman to his + follower, as he crossed the entrance of the little shop, the first time he + had ever been there. A little cringing shrivelled old man stood up in + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. May! can I have the pleasure, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ballhatchet, you know that it is contrary to the rules that there + should be any traffic with the school without special permission?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—just nothing, sir—only when the young gentlemen come + here, sir—I’m an old man, sir, and I don’t like not to oblige a + young gentleman, sir,” pleaded the old man, in a great fright. + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Norman, “but I am come to give you fair notice. I am + not going to allow the boys here to be continually smuggling spirits into + the school.” + </p> + <p> + “Spirits! bless you, sir, I never thought of no sich a thing! ‘Tis nothing + in life but ginger-beer—very cooling drink, sir, of my wife’s making; + she had the receipt from her grandmother up in Leicestershire. Won’t you + taste a bottle, sir?” and he hastily made a cork bounce, and poured it + out. + </p> + <p> + That, of course, was genuine, but Norman was “up to him,” in schoolboy + phrase. + </p> + <p> + “Give me yours, Larkins.” + </p> + <p> + No pop ensued. Larkins, enjoying the detection, put his hands on his knees + and looked wickedly up in the old man’s face to see what was coming. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me! it is a little flat. I wonder how that happened? I’ll be most + happy to change it, sir. Wife! what’s the meaning of Mr. Larkins’s + ginger-pop being so flat?” + </p> + <p> + “It is very curious ginger-beer indeed, Mr. Ballhatchet,” said Norman; + “and since it is liable to have such strange properties, I cannot allow it + to be used any more at the school.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir-as you please, sir. You are the first gentleman as has + objected, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And, once for all, I give you warning,” added Norman, “that if I have + reason to believe you have been obliging the young gentlemen, the + magistrates and the trustees of the road shall certainly hear of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not hurt a poor man, sir, as is drove to it—you as has + such a name for goodness!” + </p> + <p> + “I have given you warning,” said Norman. “The next time I find any of your + bottles in the school fields, your licence goes. Now, there are your + goods. Give Mr. Larkins back the fifteen-pence. I wonder you are not + ashamed of such a charge!” + </p> + <p> + Having extracted the money, Norman turned to leave the shop. Larkins, + triumphant, “Ha! there’s Harrison!” as the tutor rode by, and they touched + their caps. “How he stared! My eyes! June, you’ll be had up for dealing + with old Ball!” and he went into an ecstasy of laughing. “You’ve settled + him, I believe. Well, is justice satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be no use thrashing you,” said Norman, laughing, as he leaned + against the parapet of the bridge, and pinched the boy’s ear. “There’s + nothing to be got out of you but chaff.” + </p> + <p> + Larkins was charmed with the compliment. + </p> + <p> + “But I’ll tell you what, Larkins, I can’t think how a fellow like you can + go and give in to these sneaking, underhand tricks that make you ashamed + to look one in the face.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only for the fun of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wish you would find your fun some other way. Come, Larkins, + recollect yourself a little—you have a home not so far off. How do + you think your father and mother would fancy seeing you reading the book + you had yesterday, or coming out of Ballhatchet’s with a bottle of + spirits, called by a false name?” + </p> + <p> + Larkins pinched his fingers; home was a string that could touch him, but + it seemed beneath him to own it. At that moment a carriage approached, the + boy’s whole face lighted up, and he jumped forward. “Our own!” he cried. + “There she is!” + </p> + <p> + She was, of course, his mother; and Norman, though turning hastily away + that his presence might prove no restraint, saw the boy fly over the door + of the open carriage, and could have sobbed at the thought of what that + meeting was. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that with you?” asked Mrs. Larkins, when she had obtained leave + to have her boy with her, while she did her shopping. + </p> + <p> + “That was May senior, our dux.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it? I am very glad you should be with him, my dear George. He is very + kind to you, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a jolly good fellow,” said Larkins sincerely, though by no means + troubling himself as to the appropriateness of the eulogy, nor thinking it + necessary to explain to his mother the terms of the conversation. + </p> + <p> + It was not fruitless; Larkins did avoid mischief when it was not extremely + inviting, was more amenable to May senior, and having been put in mind by + him of his home, was not ashamed to bring the thought to the aid of his + eyes, when, on Sunday, during a long sermon of Mr. Ramsden’s, he knew that + Axworthy was making the grimace which irresistibly incited him to make a + still finer one. + </p> + <p> + And Ballhatchet was so much convinced of “that there young May” being in + earnest, that he assured his persuasive customers that it was as much as + his licence was worth to supply them. + </p> + <p> + Evil and insubordination were more easily kept under than Norman had + expected, when he first made up his mind to the struggle. Firmness had so + far carried the day, and the power of manful assertion of the right had + been proved, contrary to Cheviot’s parting auguries, that he would only + make himself disliked, and do no good. + </p> + <p> + The whole of the school was extremely excited this summer by a proceeding + of Mr. Tomkins, the brewer, who suddenly closed up the footway called + Randall’s Alley, declaring that there was no right of passage through a + certain field at the back of his brewery. Not only the school, but the + town was indignant, and the Mays especially so. It had been the doctor’s + way to school forty years ago, and there were recollections connected with + it that made him regard it with personal affection. Norman, too, could not + bear to lose it; he had not entirely conquered his reluctance to pass that + spot in the High Street, and the loss of the alley would be a positive + deprivation to him. Almost every native of Stoneborough felt strongly the + encroachment of the brewer, and the boys, of course, carried the sentiment + to exaggeration. + </p> + <p> + The propensity to public speaking perhaps added to the excitement, for + Norman May and Harvey Anderson, for once in unison, each made a vehement + harangue in the school-court—Anderson’s a fine specimen of the + village Hampden style, about Britons never suffering indignities, and + free-born Englishmen swelling at injuries. + </p> + <p> + “That they do, my hearty,” interjected Larkins, pointing to an inflamed + eye that had not returned to its right dimensions. However, Anderson went + on unmoved by the under titter, and demonstrated, to the full satisfaction + of all the audience, that nothing could be more illegal and unfounded than + the brewer’s claims. + </p> + <p> + Then came a great outburst from Norman, with all his father’s headlong + vehemence; the way was the right of the town, the walk had been trodden by + their forefathers for generations past—it had been made by the good + old generous-hearted man who loved his town and townspeople, and would + have heard with shame and anger of a stranger, a new inhabitant, a + grasping radical, caring, as radicals always did, for no rights, but for + their own chance of unjust gains, coming here to Stoneborough to cut them + off from their own path. He talk of liberalism and the rights of the poor! + He who cut off Randall’s poor old creatures in the almshouses from their + short way! and then came some stories of his oppression as a poor-law + guardian, which greatly aggravated the wrath of the speaker and audience, + though otherwise they did not exactly bear on the subject. + </p> + <p> + “What would old Nicholas Randall say to these nineteenth-century doings?” + finished Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Down, with them!” cried a voice from the throng, probably Larkins’s; but + there was no desire to investigate, it was the universal sentiment. “Down + with it! Hurrah, we’ll have our footpath open again! Down with the fences! + Britons never shall be slaves!” as Larkins finally ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the way to bring it to bear!” said Harvey Anderson, “See if he + dares to bring an action against us. Hurrah!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s the way to settle it,” said Norman. “Let’s have it down. It + is an oppressive, arbitrary, shameful proceeding, and we’ll show him we + won’t submit to it!” + </p> + <p> + Carried along by the general feeling, the whole troop of boys dashed + shouting up to the barricade at the entrance of the field, and levelled it + with the ground. A handkerchief was fastened to the top of one of the + stakes, and waved over the brewhouse wall, and some of the boys were for + picking up stones and dirt, and launching them over, in hopes of spoiling + the beer; but Norman put a stop to this, and brought them back to the + school-yard, still in a noisy state of exultation. + </p> + <p> + It cooled a little by-and-by under the doubt how their exploit would be + taken. At home, Norman found it already known, and his father half glad, + half vexed, enjoying the victory over Tomkins, yet a little uneasy on his + son’s behalf. “What will Dr. Hoxton say to the dux?” said he. “I didn’t + know he was to be dux in mischief as well as out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t call it mischief, papa, to resent an unwarranted encroachment + of our rights by such an old ruffian as that. One’s blood is up to think + of the things he has done!” + </p> + <p> + “He richly deserves it, no doubt,” said the doctor, “and yet I wish you + had been out of the row. If there is any blame, you will be the first it + will light on.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of it, that is but just. Anderson and I seem to have stirred it + up—if it wanted stirring—for it was in every fellow there; + indeed, I had no notion it was coming to this when I began.” + </p> + <p> + “Oratory,” said the doctor, smiling. “Ha, Norman! Think a little another + time, my boy, before you take the law into your own hands, or, what is + worse, into a lot of hands you can’t control for good, though you may + excite them to harm.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Hoxton did not come into school at the usual hour, and, in the course + of the morning, sent for May senior, to speak to him in his study. + </p> + <p> + He looked very broad, awful, and dignified, as he informed him that Mr. + Tomkins had just been with him to complain of the damage that had been + done, and he appeared extremely displeased that the dux should have been + no check on such proceedings. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, sir,” said Norman, “but I believe it was the general feeling + that he had no right to stop the alley, and, therefore, that it could not + be wrong to break it down.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether he has a right or not is not a question to be settled by you. So + I find that you, whose proper office it is to keep order, have been + inflaming the mischievous and aggressive spirit amongst the others. I am + surprised at you; I thought you were more to be depended upon, May, in + your position.” + </p> + <p> + Norman coloured a good deal, and simply answered, “I am sorry, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, then, that nothing of the kind happens again,” said Dr. + Hoxton, who was very fond of him, and did not find fault with him + willingly. + </p> + <p> + That the first inflammatory discourse had been made by Anderson did not + appear to be known—he only came in for the general reprimand given + to the school. + </p> + <p> + It was reported the following evening, just as the town boys turned out to + go to their homes, that “old Tomkins had his fence up five times higher + than before.” + </p> + <p> + “Have at him again, say I!” exclaimed Axworthy. “What business has he + coming stopping up ways that were made before he was born?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall catch it from the doctor if we do,” said Edward Anderson, “He + looked in no end of a rage yesterday when he talked about the credit of + the school.” + </p> + <p> + “Who cares for the credit of the school?” said the elder Anderson; “we are + out of the school now—we are townsmen—Stoneborough boys—citizens + not bound to submit to injustice. No, no, the old rogue knew it would not + stand if it was brought into court, so he brings down old Hoxton on us + instead—a dirty trick he deserves to be punished for.” + </p> + <p> + And there was a general shout and yell in reply. + </p> + <p> + “Anderson,” said Norman, “you had better not excite them again, they are + ripe for mischief. It will go further than it did yesterday—don’t + you see?” + </p> + <p> + Anderson could not afford to get into a scrape without May to stand before + him, and rather sulkily he assented. + </p> + <p> + “It is of no use to rave about old Tomkins,” proceeded Norman, in his + style of popular oratory. “If it is illegal, some one will go to law about + it, and we shall have our alley again. We have shown him our mind once, + and that is enough; if we let him alone now, he will see ‘tis only because + we are ordered, not for his sake. It would be just putting him in the + right, and maybe winning his cause for him, to use any more violence. + There’s law for you, Anderson. So now no more about it—let us all go + home like rational fellows. August, where’s August?” + </p> + <p> + Tom was not visible—he generally avoided going home with his + brother; and Norman having seen the boys divide into two or three little + parties, as their roads lay homewards, found he had an hour of light for + an expedition of his own, along the bank of the river. He had taken up + botany with much ardour, and sharing the study with Margaret was a great + delight to both. There was a report that the rare yellow bog-bean grew in + a meadow about a mile and a half up the river, and thither he was bound, + extremely enjoying the summer evening walk, as the fresh dewy coolness + sunk on all around, and the noises of the town were mellowed by distance, + and the sun’s last beams slanted on the green meadows, and the May-flies + danced, and dragon-flies darted, and fish rose or leaped high in the air, + or showed their spotted sides, and opened and shut their gills, as they + rested in the clear water, and the evening breeze rustled in the tall + reeds, and brought fragrance from the fresh-mown hay. + </p> + <p> + It was complete enjoyment to Norman after his day’s study and the rule and + watch over the unruly crowd of boys, and he walked and wandered and + collected plants for Margaret till the sun was down, and the grasshoppers + chirped clamorously, while the fern-owl purred, and the beetle hummed, and + the skimming swallows had given place to the soft-winged bat, and the + large white owl floating over the fields as it moused in the long grass. + </p> + <p> + The summer twilight was sobering every tint, when, as Norman crossed the + cricket-field, he heard, in the distance, a loud shout. He looked up, and + it seemed to him that he saw some black specks dancing in the forbidden + field, and something like the waving of a flag, but it was not light + enough to be certain, and he walked quickly home. + </p> + <p> + The front door was fastened, and, while he was waiting to be let in, Mr. + Harrison walked by, and called out, “You are late at home to-night—it + is half-past nine.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been taking a walk, sir.” + </p> + <p> + A good-night was the answer, as he was admitted. Every one in the + drawing-room looked up, and exclaimed as he entered, “Where’s Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “What! he is not come home?” + </p> + <p> + “No! Was he not with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I missed him after school. I was persuaded he was come home. I have been + to look for the yellow bog-bean. There, Margaret. Had not I better go and + look for him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do,” said Dr. May. “The boy is never off one’s mind.” + </p> + <p> + A sort of instinctive dread directed Norman’s steps down the open portion + of Randall’s Alley, and, voices growing louder as he came nearer, + confirmed his suspicions. The fence at this end was down, and, on entering + the field, a gleam of light met his eye on the ground—a cloud of + smoke, black figures were flitting round it, pushing brands into red + places, and feeding the bonfire. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing?” exclaimed Norman. “You have got yourselves + into a tremendous scrape!” + </p> + <p> + A peal of laughter, and shout of “Randall and Stoneborough for ever!” was + the reply. + </p> + <p> + “August! May junior! Tom! answer me! Is he here?” asked Norman, not + solicitous to identify any one. + </p> + <p> + But gruff voices broke in upon them. “There they are, nothing like ‘em for + mischief.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, young gentlemen,” said a policeman, “be off, if you please. We + don’t want to have none of you at the station to-night.” + </p> + <p> + A general hurry-skurry ensued. Norman alone, strong in innocence, walked + quietly away, and, as he came forth from the darkness of the alley, beheld + something scouring away before him, in the direction of home. It popped in + at the front door before him, but was not in the drawing-room. He strode + upstairs, called, but was not answered, and found, under the bedclothes, a + quivering mass, consisting of Tom, with all his clothes on, fully + persuaded that it was the policeman who was pursuing him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + Oh Life, without thy chequered scene, + Of right and wrong, of weal and woe, + Success and failure, could a ground + For magnanimity be found? + WORDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + Dr. May was called for late the next day, Friday, and spent some time in + one of the houses near the river. It was nearly eight o’clock when he came + away, and he lingered, looking towards the school, in hopes of a walk home + with his boys. + </p> + <p> + Presently he saw Norman coming out from under the archway, his cap drawn + over his face, and step, gesture, and manner betraying that something was + seriously wrong. He came up almost to his father without seeing him, until + startled by his exclamation, “Norman—why, Norman, what’s the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + Norman’s lips quivered, and his face was pale—he seemed as if he + could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s Tom?” said the doctor, much alarmed. “Has he got into disgrace + about this business of Tomkins? That boy—” + </p> + <p> + “He has only got an imposition,” interrupted Norman. “No, it is not that—it + is myself”—and it was only with a gulp and struggle that he brought + out the words, “I am turned down in the school.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor started back a step or two, aghast. “What-how—speak, + Norman. What have you done?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” said Norman, recovering in the desire to reassure his father—“nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right,” said the doctor, breathing freely. “What’s the meaning of + it...a misunderstanding?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norman, with bitterness. “It is all Anderson’s doing—a + word from him would have set all straight—but he would not; I + believe, from my heart, he held his tongue to get me down, that he might + have the Randall!” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll see you righted,” said the doctor eagerly. “Come, tell me the whole + story, Norman. Is it about this unlucky business?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The town-fellows were all up about it last evening, when we came out + of school. Anderson senior himself began to put them up to having the + fence down again. Yes, that he did—I remember his very words—that + Tomkins could not bring it into court, and so set old Hoxton at us. Well, + I told them it would not do—thought I had settled them—saw + them off home—yes, Simpson, and Benson, and Grey, up the High + Street, and the others their way. I only left Axworthy going into a shop + when I set off on my walk. What could a fellow do more? How was I to know + that that Axworthy would get them together again, and take them to this + affair—pull up the stakes—saw them down—for they were + hard to get down—shy all sorts of things over into the court—hoot at + old Tomkins’s man, when he told them to be off—and make a bonfire of + the sticks at last?” + </p> + <p> + “And Harvey Anderson was there?” + </p> + <p> + “No—not he. He is too sharp—born and bred attorney as he is—he + talked them up to the mischief when my back was turned, and then sneaked + quietly home, quite innocent, and out of the scrape.” + </p> + <p> + “But Dr. Hoxton can never entertain a suspicion that you had anything to + do with it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he does though. He thinks I incited them, and Tomkins and the + policeman declare I was there in the midst of the row—and not one of + these fellows will explain how I came at the last to look for Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “Not Tom himself?” + </p> + <p> + “He did try to speak, poor little fellow, but, after the other affair, his + word goes for nothing, and so, it seems, does mine. I did think Hoxton + would have trusted me!” + </p> + <p> + “And did not he?” exclaimed Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “He did not in so many words accuse me of—of—but he told me he + had serious charges brought against me—Mr. Harrison had seen me at + Ballhatchet’s, setting an example of disregard to rules—and, again, + Mr. Harrison saw me coming in at a late hour last night. ‘I know he did,’ + I said, and I explained where I had been, and they asked for proofs! I + could hardly answer, from surprise, at their not seeming to believe me, + but I said you could answer for my having come in with the flowers for my + sister.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I will—I’ll go this instant—” he was turning. + </p> + <p> + “It is of no use, papa, to-night; Dr. Hoxton has a dinner-party.” + </p> + <p> + “He is always having parties. I wish he would mind them less, and his + business more. You disbelieved! but I’ll see justice done you, Norman, the + first thing to-morrow. Well—” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, I said, old Ballhatchet could tell that I crossed the bridge + at the very time they were doing this pretty piece of work, for he was + sitting smoking in his porch when I went home, and, would you believe it? + the old rascal would not remember who passed that evening! It is all his + malice and revenge—nothing else!” + </p> + <p> + “Why—what have you been doing to him?” + </p> + <p> + Norman shortly explained the ginger-beer story, and adding, “Cheviot told + me I should get nothing but ill-will, and so I have—all those town + fellows turn against me now, and though they know as well as possible how + it was, they won’t say a word to right me, just out of spite, because I + have stopped them from all the mischief I could!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—” + </p> + <p> + “They asked me whether—since I allowed that I had been there at last—I + had dispersed the boys. I said no, I had no time. Then they desired to + know who was there, and that I had not seen; it was all dark, and there + had not been a moment, and if I guessed, it was no affair of mine to say. + So they ordered me down, and had up Ned Anderson, and one or two more who + were known to have been in the riot, and then they consulted a good while, + and sent for me; Mr. Wilmot was for me, I am sure, but Harrison was + against me. Dr. Hoxton sat there, and made me one of his addresses. He + said he would not enter on the question whether I had been present at the + repetition of the outrage, as he called it, but what was quite certain + was, that I had abused my authority and influence in the school; I had + been setting a bad example, and breaking the rules about Ballhatchet, and + so far from repressing mischief, I had been the foremost in it, making + inflammatory harangues, leading them to commit violence the first time, + and the next, if not actually taking part in it personally, at any rate + not preventing it. In short, he said it was clear I had not weight enough + for my post—it was some excuse I had been raised to it so young—but + it was necessary to show that proficiency in studies did not compensate + for disregard of discipline, and so he turned me down below the first six! + So there’s another May in disgrace!” + </p> + <p> + “It shall not last—it shall not last, my boy,” said Dr. May, + pressing Norman’s arm; “I’ll see you righted. Dr. Hoxton shall hear the + whole story. I am not for fathers interfering in general, but if ever + there was a case, this is! Why, it is almost actionable—injuring + your whole prospects in life, and all because he will not take the trouble + to make an investigation! It is a crying shame.” + </p> + <p> + “Every fellow in the school knows how it was,” said Norman; “and plenty of + them would be glad to tell, if they had only the opportunity; but he asked + no one but those two or three worst fellows that were at the fire, and + they would not tell, on purpose. The school will go to destruction now—they’ll + get their way, and all I have been striving for is utterly undone.” + </p> + <p> + “You setting a bad example! Dr. Hoxton little knows what you have been + doing. It is a mockery, as I have always said, to see that old fellow sit + wrapped up in his pomposity, eating his good dinners, and knowing no more + what goes on among his boys than this umbrella! But he will listen to me—and + we’ll make those boys confess the whole—ay, and have up Ballhatchet + himself, to say what your traffic with him was; and we will see what old + Hoxton says to you then, Norman.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May and his son felt keenly and spoke strongly. There was so much of + sympathy and fellow-feeling between them, that there was no backwardness + on Norman’s part in telling his whole trouble, with more confidence than + schoolboys often show towards their fathers, and Dr. May entered into the + mortification as if he were still at school. They did not go into the + house, but walked long up and down the garden, working themselves up into, + if possible, stronger indignation, and concerting the explanation for + to-morrow, when Dr. May meant to go at once to the head-master, and make + him attend to the true version of the story, appealing to Harvey Anderson + himself, Larkins, and many others, for witnesses. There could be hardly a + doubt that Norman would be thus exculpated; but, if Dr. Hoxton would not + see things in their true light, Dr. May was ready to take him away at + once, rather than see him suffer injustice. + </p> + <p> + Still, though comforted by his father’s entire reliance, Norman was + suffering severely under the sense of indignity, and grieved that Dr. + Hoxton and the other masters should have believed him guilty—that + name of May could never again boast of being without reproach. To be in + disgrace stung him to the quick, even though undeservedly, and he could + not bear to go in, meet his sisters, and be pitied. “There’s no need they + should know of it,” said he, when the Minster clock pealing ten obliged + them to go indoors, and his father agreed. They bade each other + good-night, with the renewal of the promise that Dr. Hoxton should be + forced to hear Norman’s vindication the first thing to-morrow, Harvey + Anderson be disappointed of what he meanly triumphed in, and Norman be + again in his post at the head of the school, in more honour and confidence + than ever, putting down evil, and making Stoneborough what it ought to be. + </p> + <p> + As Dr. May lay awake in the summer’s morning, meditating on his address to + Dr. Hoxton, he heard the unwelcome sound of a ring at the bell, and, in a + few minutes, a note was brought to him. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Adams to get the gig ready—I’ll let him know whether he is to + go with me.” + </p> + <p> + And, in a few minutes, the doctor opened Norman’s door, and found him + dressed, and standing by the window, reading. “What, up already, Norman? I + came to tell you that our affairs must wait till the afternoon. It is very + provoking, for Hoxton may be gone out, but Mr. Lake’s son, at Groveswood, + has an attack on the head, and I must go at once. It is a couple of dozen + miles off or more. I have hardly ever been there, and it may keep me all + day.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you go in the gig? Shall I drive you?” said Norman, looking rather + blank. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I thought of, if you like it. I thought you would sooner be + out of the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—yes, papa. Shall I come and help you to finish dressing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do, thank you; it will hasten matters. Only, first order in some + breakfast. What makes you up so early? Have not you slept?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much—it has been such a hot night.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have a headache. Well, we will find a cure for that before the + day is over. I have settled what to say to old Hoxton.” + </p> + <p> + Before another quarter of an hour had passed, they were driving through + the deep lanes, the long grass thickly laden with morning dew, which + beaded the webs of the spiders and rose in clouds of mist under the + influence of the sun’s rays. There was stillness in the air at first, then + the morning sounds, the labourer going forth, the world wakening to life, + the opening houses, the children coming out to school. In spite of the + tumult of feeling, Norman could not but be soothed and refreshed by the + new and fair morning scene, and both minds quitted the school politics, as + Dr. May talked of past enjoyment of walks or drives home in early dawn, + the more delicious after a sad watch in a sick-room, and told of the fair + sights he had seen at such unwonted hours. + </p> + <p> + They had far to go, and the heat of the day had come on before they + entered the place of their destination. It was a woodland village, built + on a nook in the side of the hill, sloping greenly to the river, and shut + in by a white gate, which seemed to gather all in one the little + old-fashioned church, its yard, shaded with trees, and enclosed by long + white rails; the parsonage, covered with climbing plants and in the midst + of a gay garden; and one or two cottages. The woods cast a cool shadow, + and, in the meadows by the river rose cocks of new-made hay; there was an + air of abiding serenity about the whole place, save that there stood an + old man by the gate, evidently watching for the physician’s carriage; and + where the sun fell on that parsonage-house was a bedroom window wide open, + with the curtains drawn. + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven you are come, sir,” said the old man; “he is fearfully bad.” + </p> + <p> + Norman knew young Lake, who had been a senior boy when he first went to + school, was a Randall scholar, and had borne an excellent character, and + highly distinguished himself at the university. And now, by all accounts, + he seemed to be dying—in the height of honour and general esteem. + Dr. May went into the house, the old man took the horse, and Norman + lingered under the trees in the churchyard, watching the white curtains + now and then puffed by the fitful summer breeze, as he lay on the turf in + the shade, under the influence of the gentle sadness around, resting, mind + and body, from the tossing tumultuous passionate sensations that had kept + him restless and miserable through the hot night. + </p> + <p> + He waited long—one hour, two hours had passed away, but he was not + impatient, and hardly knew how long the time had been before his father + and Mr. Lake came out of the house together, and, after they parted, Dr. + May summoned him. He of course asked first for the patient. “Not quite so + hopeless as at first,” and the reasons for having been kept so long were + detailed, with many circumstances of the youth’s illness, and the parents’ + resignation, by which Dr. May was still too deeply touched to have room in + his mind for anything besides. + </p> + <p> + They were more than half-way home, and a silence had succeeded the + conversation about the Lake family, when Norman spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Papa, I have been thinking about it, and I believe it would be better to + let it alone, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “Not apply to Dr. Hoxton!” exclaimed his father. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think not. I have been considering it, and it does hardly seem to + me the right thing. You see, if I had not you close at hand, this could + never be explained, and it seems rather hard upon Anderson, who has no + father, and the other fellows, who have theirs farther off—” + </p> + <p> + “Right, Norman, that is what my father before me always said, and the way + I have always acted myself; much better let a few trifles go on not just + as one would wish, than be for ever interfering. But I really think this + is a case for it, and I don’t think you ought to let yourself be + influenced by the fear of any party-spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not only that, papa—I have been thinking a good deal to-day, + and there are other reasons. Of course I should wish Dr. Hoxton to know + that I spoke the truth about that walk, and I hope you will let him know, + as I appealed to you. But, on cooler thoughts, I don’t believe Dr. Hoxton + could seriously suspect me of such a thing as that, and it was not on that + ground that I am turned down, but that I did not keep up sufficient + discipline, and allowed the outrage, as he calls it. Now, you know, that + is, after a fashion, true. If I had not gone on like an ass the other day, + and incited them to pull down the fences, they would not have done it + afterwards, and perhaps I ought to have kept on guard longer. It was my + fault, and we can’t deny it.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May made a restless, reluctant movement. “Well, well, I suppose it was—but + it was just as much Harvey Anderson’s—and is he to get the + scholarship because he has added meanness to the rest?” + </p> + <p> + “He was not dux,” said Norman, with a sigh. “It was more shabby than I + thought was even in him. But I don’t know that the feeling about him is + not one reason. There has always been a rivalry and bitterness between us + two, and if I were to get the upper hand now, by means not in the usual + course, such as the fellows would think ill of, it would be worse than + ever, and I should always feel guilty and ashamed to look at him.” + </p> + <p> + “Over-refining, Norman,” muttered Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, don’t you remember, when his father died, how glad you and + everyone were to get him a nomination, and it was said that if he gained a + scholarship it would be such a relief to poor Mrs. Anderson? Now he has + this chance, it does seem hard to deprive her of it. I should not like to + know that I had done so.” + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” the doctor gave a considering whistle. + </p> + <p> + “You could not make it straight, papa, without explaining about the + dealing with Ballhatchet, and that would be unfair to them all, even the + old rogue himself; for I promised to say nothing about former practices, + as long as he did not renew them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! I don’t want to compromise you, Norman. You know your own ground + best, but I don’t like it at all. You don’t know the humiliation of + disgrace. Those who have thought highly of you, now thinking you changed—I + don’t know how to bear it for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mind anything while you trust me,” said Norman, eagerly; “not + much I mean, except Mr. Wilmot. You must judge, papa, and do as you + please.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you must judge, Norman. Your confidence in me ought not to be a + restraint. It has always been an understood thing that what you say at + home is as if it had not been said, as regards my dealings with the + masters.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, papa. Well, I’ll tell you what brought me to this. I tumbled + about all night in a rage, when I thought how they had served me, and of + Hoxton’s believing it all, and how he might only half give in to your + representation, and then I gloried in Anderson’s coming down from his + height, and being seen in his true colours. So it went on till morning + came, and I got up. You know you gave me my mother’s little ‘Thomas a + Kempis’. I always read a bit every morning. To-day it was, ‘Of four things + that bring much inward peace’. And what do you think they were?— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Be desirous, my son, to do the will of another + rather than thine own. + Choose always to have less rather than more. + Seek always the lowest place, and to be inferior + to everyone. + Wish always and pray that the will of God may be + wholly fulfilled in thee.’ +</pre> + <p> + “I liked them the more, because it was just like her last reading with us, + and like that letter. Well, then I wondered as I lay on the grass at + Groveswood, whether she would have thought it best for me to be + reinstated, and I found out that I should have been rather afraid of what + you might say when she had talked it over with you.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May smiled a little at the simplicity with which this last was said, + but his smile ended in one of his heavy sighs. “So you took her for your + counsellor, my boy. That was the way to find out what was right.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there was something in the place and, in watching poor Lake’s + windows, that made me not able to dwell so much on getting on, and having + prizes and scholarships. I thought that caring for those had been driven + out of me, and you know I never felt as if it were my right when I was + made dux; but now I find it is all come back. It does not do for me to be + first; I have been what she called elated, and been more peremptory than + need with the lower boys, and gone on in my old way with Richard, and so I + suppose this disgrace has come to punish me. I wish it were not disgrace, + because of our name at school, and because it will vex Harry so much; but + since it is come, considering all things, I suppose I ought not to + struggle to justify myself at other people’s expense.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes were so dazzled with tears that he could hardly see to drive, nor + did his father speak at first. “I can’t say anything against it, Norman, + but I am sorry, and one thing more you should consider. If Dr. Hoxton + should view this absurd business in the way he seems to do, it will stand + in your way for ever in testimonials, if you try for anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it will interfere with my having a Confirmation ticket?” + </p> + <p> + “Why no, I should not think—such a boyish escapade could be no + reason for refusing you one.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well then, it had better rest. If there should be any difficulty + about my being confirmed, of course we will explain it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish every one showed themselves as well prepared!” half muttered the + doctor; then, after long musing, “Well, Norman, I give up the scholarship. + Poor Mrs. Anderson wants it more than we do, and if the boy is a shabby + fellow the more he wants a decent education. But what do you say to this? + I make Hoxton do you full justice, and reinstate you in your proper place, + and then I take you away at once—send you to a tutor—anything, + till the end of the long vacation.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Norman, pausing. “I don’t know, papa. I am very much + obliged to you, but I think it would hardly do. You would be uncomfortable + at seeming to quarrel with Dr. Hoxton, and it would be hardly creditable + for me to go off in anger.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, I believe,” said Dr. May. “You judge wisely, though I + should not have ventured to ask it of you. But what is to become of the + discipline of the school? Is that all to go to the dogs?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not do anything with them if I were restored in this way; they + would be more set against me. It is bad enough as it is, but, even for my + own peace, I believe it is better to leave it alone. All my comfort in + school is over, I know!” and he sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “It is a most untoward business!” said the doctor. “I am very sorry your + schooldays should be clouded—but it can’t be helped, and you will + work yourself into a character again. You are full young, and can stay for + the next Randall.” + </p> + <p> + Norman felt as if, while his father looked at him as he now did, the rest + of the world were nothing to him; but, perhaps, the driving past the + school brought him to a different mind, for he walked into the house + slowly and dejectedly. + </p> + <p> + He told his own story to Ethel, in the garden, not without much + difficulty, so indignant were her exclamations; and it was impossible to + make her see that his father’s interference would put him in an awkward + position among the boys. She would argue vehemently that she could not + bear Mr. Wilmot to think ill of him, that it was a great shame of Dr. + Hoxton, and that it was dreadful to let such a boy as Harvey Anderson go + unpunished. “I really do think it is quite wrong of you to give up your + chance of doing good, and leave him in his evil ways!” That was all the + comfort she gave Norman, and she walked in to pour out a furious grumbling + upon Margaret. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May had been telling the elder ones, and they were in conversation + after he had left them—Margaret talking with animation, and Flora + sitting over her drawing, uttering reluctant assents. “Has he told you, + poor fellow?” asked Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel. “Was there ever such a shame?” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what I say,” observed Flora. “I cannot see why the Andersons + are to have a triumph over all of us.” + </p> + <p> + “I used to think Harvey the best of the two,” said Ethel. “Now I think he + is a great deal the worst. Taking advantage of such a mistake as this! How + will he ever look Norman in the face!” + </p> + <p> + “Really,” said Margaret, “I see no use in aggravating ourselves by talking + of the Andersons.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t think how papa can consent,” proceeded Flora. “I am sure, if I + were in his place, I should not!” + </p> + <p> + “Papa is so much pleased with dear Norman’s behaviour that it quite makes + up for all the disappointment,” said Margaret. “Besides, he is very much + obliged to him in one way; he would not have liked to have to battle the + matter with Dr. Hoxton. He spoke of Norman’s great good judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Norman can persuade papa to anything,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I wish papa had not yielded,” said Ethel. “It would have been just + as noble in dear Norman, and we should not have the apparent disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is best as it is, after all,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Why, how do you mean?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I think very likely things might have come out. Now don’t look furious, + Ethel. Indeed, I can’t help it, but really I don’t think it is explicable + why Norman should wish to hush it up, unless there were something behind!” + </p> + <p> + “Flora!” cried Ethel, too much shocked to bring out another word. + </p> + <p> + “If you are unfortunate enough to have such suspicions,” said Margaret + quietly, “I think it would be better to be silent.” + </p> + <p> + “As if you did not know Norman!” stammered Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Flora, “I don’t wish to think so. You know I did not hear + Norman himself, and when papa gives his vehement accounts of things, it + always puzzles us of the cooler-minded sort.” + </p> + <p> + “It is as great a shame as ever I heard!” cried Ethel, recovering her + utterance. “Who would you trust, if not your own father and brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Flora, not by any means wishing to displease her sisters. + “If there is such a thing as an excess of generosity, it is sure to be + among ourselves. I only know it does not suit me. It will make us all + uncomfortable whenever we meet the Andersons or Mr. Wilmot, or any one + else, and as to such tenderness to Harvey Anderson, I think it is thrown + away.” + </p> + <p> + “Thrown away on the object, perhaps,” said Margaret, “but not in Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” broke out Ethel. “Better be than seem! Oh, dear! I am sorry + I was vexed with dear old June when he told me. I had rather have him now + than if he had gained everything, and every one was praising him—that + I had! Harvey Anderson is welcome to be dux and Randall scholar for what I + care, while Norman is—while he is, just what we thought of the last + time we read that Gospel—you know, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “He is—that he is,” said Margaret, “and, indeed, it is most + beautiful to see how what has happened has brought him at once to what she + wished, when, perhaps, otherwise it would have been a work of long time.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was entirely consoled. Flora thought of the words “tete exaltee” and + considered herself alone to have sober sense enough to see things in a + true light—not that she went the length of believing that Norman had + any underhand motives, but she thought it very discreet in her to think a + prudent father would not have been satisfied with such a desire to avoid + investigation. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May would not trust himself to enter on the subject with Dr. Hoxton in + conversation; he only wrote a note. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “June 16th. +</pre> + <p> + “Dear Dr. Hoxton, + </p> + <p> + “My son has appealed to me to confirm his account of himself on Thursday + evening last. I therefore distinctly state that he came in at half-past + nine, with his hands full of plants from the river, and that he then went + out again, by my desire, to look for his little brother. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + —Yours very truly, + R. May.” + </pre> + <p> + A long answer came in return, disclaiming all doubt of Norman’s veracity, + and explaining Dr. Hoxton’s grounds for having degraded him. There had + been misconduct in the school, he said, for some time past, and he did not + consider that it was any very serious reproach, to a boy of Norman’s age, + that he had not had weight enough to keep up his authority, and had been + carried away by the general feeling. It had been necessary to make an + example for the sake of principle, and though very sorry it should have + fallen on one of such high promise and general good conduct, Dr. Hoxton + trusted that it would not be any permanent injury to his prospects, as his + talents had raised him to his former position in the school so much + earlier than usual. + </p> + <p> + “The fact was,” said Dr. May, “that old Hoxton did it in a passion, + feeling he must punish somebody, and now, finding there’s no uproar about + it, he begins to be sorry. I won’t answer this note. I’ll stop after + church to-morrow and shake hands, and that will show we don’t bear + malice.” + </p> + <p> + What Mr. Wilmot might think was felt by all to affect them more nearly. + Ethel wanted to hear that he declared his complete conviction of Norman’s + innocence, and was disappointed to find that he did not once allude to the + subject. She was only consoled by Margaret’s conjecture that, perhaps, he + thought the headmaster had been hasty, and could not venture to say so—he + saw into people’s characters, and it was notorious that it was just what + Dr. Hoxton did not. + </p> + <p> + Tom had spent the chief of that Saturday in reading a novel borrowed from + Axworthy, keeping out of sight of every one. All Sunday he avoided Norman + more scrupulously than ever, and again on Monday. That day was a severe + trial to Norman; the taking the lower place, and the sense that, excel as + much as ever he might in his studies, it would not avail to restore him to + his former place, were more unpleasant, when it came to the point, than he + had expected. + </p> + <p> + He saw the cold manner, so different from the readiness with which his + tasks had always been met, certain as they were of being well done; he + found himself among the common herd whom he had passed so triumphantly, + and, for a little while, he had no heart to exert himself. + </p> + <p> + This was conquered by the strong will and self-rebuke for having merely + craved for applause, but, in the play-ground, he found himself still + alone—the other boys who had been raised by his fall shrank from + intercourse with one whom they had injured by their silence, and the + Andersons, who were wont to say the Mays carried every tale home, and who + still almost expected interference from Dr. May, hardly believed their + victory secure, and the younger one, at least, talked spitefully, and + triumphed in the result of May’s meddling and troublesome over strictness. + “Such prigs always come to a downfall,” was the sentiment. + </p> + <p> + Norman found himself left out of everything, and stood dispirited and + weary on the bank of the river, wishing for Harry, wishing for Cheviot, + wishing that he had been able to make a friend who would stand by him, + thinking it could not be worse if he had let his father reinstate him—and + a sensation of loneliness and injustice hung heavy at his heart. + </p> + <p> + His first interruption was a merry voice. “I say, June, there’s no end of + river cray-fish under that bank,” and Larkins’s droll face was looking up + at him, from that favourite position, half stooping, his hands on his + knees, his expression of fun trying to conceal his real anxiety and + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + Norman turned and smiled, and looked for the cray-fish, and, at the same + time, became aware of Hector Ernescliffe, watching for an opportunity to + say, “I have a letter from Alan.” He knew they wanted, as far as little + boys ventured to seek after one so much their elder, to show themselves + his friends, and he was grateful; he roused himself to hear about Alan’s + news, and found it was important—his great friend, Captain Gordon, + had got a ship, and hoped to be able to take him, and this might lead to + Harry’s going with him. Then Norman applied himself to the capture of + cray-fish, and Larkins grew so full of fun and drollery, that the hours of + recreation passed off less gloomily than they had begun. + </p> + <p> + If only his own brother would have been his adherent! But he saw almost + nothing of Tom. Day after day he missed him, he was off before him in + going and returning from school, and when he caught a sight of his face, + it looked harassed, pale, and miserable, stealing anxious glances after + him, yet shrinking from his eye. But, at the same time, Norman did not see + him mingling with his former friends, and could not make out how he + disposed of himself. To be thus continually shunned by his own brother, + even when the general mass were returning to ordinary terms, became so + painful, that Norman was always on the watch to seek for one more + conversation with him. + </p> + <p> + He caught him at last in the evening, just as they were going home. “Tom, + why are you running away? Come with me,” said he authoritatively; and Tom + obeyed in trembling. + </p> + <p> + Norman led the way to the meads. “Tom,” said he, “do not let this go on. + Why do you serve me in this way? You surely need not turn against me,” he + said, with pleading melancholy in his voice. + </p> + <p> + It was not needed. Tom had flung himself upon the grass, and was in an + agony of crying, even before he had finished the words. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, Tom! what is the matter? Have they been bullying you again? Look up, + and tell me—what is it? You know I can stand by you still, if you’ll + only let me;” and Norman sat by him on the grass, and raised his face by a + sort of force, but the kind words only brought more piteous sobs. It was a + long time before they diminished enough to let him utter a word, but + Norman went on patiently consoling and inquiring, sure, at least, that + here had broken down the sullenness that had always repelled him. + </p> + <p> + At last came the words, “Oh! I cannot bear it. It is all my doing!” + </p> + <p> + “What—how—you don’t mean this happening to me? It is not your + doing, August—what fancy is this?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, it is,” said Tom, his voice cut short by gasps, the remains of + the sobs. “They would not hear me! I tried to tell them how you told them + not, and sent them home. I tried to tell about Ballhatchet—but—but + they wouldn’t—they said if it had been Harry, they would have + attended—but they would not believe me. Oh! if Harry was but here!” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he was,” said Norman, from the bottom of his heart; “but you see, + Tom, if this sets you on always telling truth, I shan’t think any great + harm done.” + </p> + <p> + A fresh burst, “Oh, they are all so glad! They say such things! And the + Mays were never in disgrace before. Oh, Norman, Norman!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about that—” began Norman. + </p> + <p> + “But you would mind,” broke in the boy passionately, “if you knew what + Anderson junior and Axworthy say! They say it serves you right, and they + were going to send me to old Ballhatchet’s to get some of his stuff to + drink confusion to the mouth of June, and all pragmatical meddlers; and + when I said I could not go, they vowed if I did not, I should eat the + corks for them! And Anderson junior called me names, and licked me. Look + there.” He showed a dark blue-and-red stripe raised on the palm of his + hand. “I could not write well for it these three days, and Hawes gave me + double copies!” + </p> + <p> + “The cowardly fellows!” exclaimed Norman indignantly. “But you did not + go?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Anderson senior stopped them. He said he would not have the + Ballhatchet business begin again.” + </p> + <p> + “That is one comfort,” said Norman. “I see he does not dare not to keep + order. But if you’ll only stay with me, August, I’ll take care they don’t + hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, June! June!” and he threw himself across his kind brother. “I am so + very sorry! Oh! to see you put down—and hear them! And you to lose + the scholarship! Oh, dear! oh, dear! and be in disgrace with them all!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Tom, do cheer up. It is nothing to be in such distress at. Papa + knows all about it, and while he does, I don’t care half so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wish—I wish—” + </p> + <p> + “You see, Tom,” said Norman, “after all, though it is very kind of you to + be sorry for not being able to get me out of this scrape, the thing one + wants you to be sorry about is your own affair.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had never come to school! I wish Anderson would leave me alone! + It is all his fault! A mean-spirited, skulking, bullying—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush, Tom, he is bad enough, but now you know what he is, you can + keep clear of him for the future. Now listen. You and I will make a fresh + start, and try if we can’t get the Mays to be looked on as they were when + Harry was here. Let us mind the rules, and get into no more mischief.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll keep me from Ned Anderson and Axworthy?” whispered Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that I will. And you’ll try and speak the truth, and be + straightforward?” + </p> + <p> + “I will, I will,” said Tom, worn out in spirits by his long bondage, and + glad to catch at the hope of relief and protection. + </p> + <p> + “Then let us come home,” and Tom put his hand into his brother’s, as a few + weeks back would have seemed most unworthy of schoolboy dignity. + </p> + <p> + Thenceforth Tom was devoted to Norman, and kept close to him, sure that + the instant he was from under his wing his former companions would fall on + him to revenge his defection, but clinging to him also from real affection + and gratitude. Indolence and timidity were the true root of what had for a + time seemed like a positively bad disposition; beneath, there was a warm + heart, and sense of right, which had been almost stifled for the time, in + the desire, from moment to moment, to avoid present trouble or fear. Under + Norman’s care his better self had freer scope, he was guarded from + immediate terror, and kept from the suggestions of the worse sort of boys, + as much as was in his brother’s power; and the looks they cast towards + him, and the sly torments they attempted to inflict, by no means invited + him back to them. The lessons, where he had a long inveterate habit of + shuffling, came under Norman’s eye at the same time. He always prepared + them in his presence, instead of in the most secret manner possible, and + with all Anderson’s expeditious modes of avoiding the making them of any + use. Norman sat by, and gave such help as was fair and just, showed him + how to learn, and explained difficulties, and the ingenuity hitherto spent + in eluding learning being now directed to gaining it, he began to make + real progress and find satisfaction in it. The comfort of being good + dawned upon him once more, but still there was much to contend with; he + had acquired such a habit of prevarication that, if by any means taken by + surprise, his impulse was to avoid giving a straightforward answer, and + when he recollected his sincerity, the truth came with the air of + falsehood. Moreover, he was an arrant coward, and provoked tricks by his + manifest and unreasonable terrors. It was no slight exercise of patience + that Norman underwent, but this was the interest he had made for himself; + and the recovery of the boy’s attachment, and his improvement, though + slow, were a present recompense. + </p> + <p> + Ernescliffe, Larkins, and others of the boys, held fast to him, and after + the first excitement was past, all the rest returned to their former tone. + He was decidedly as much respected as ever, and, at the same time, + regarded with more favour than when his strictness was resented. And as + for the discipline of the school, that did not suffer. Anderson felt that, + for his own credit, he must not allow the rules to be less observed than + in May’s reign, and he enforced them upon the reluctant and angry boys + with whom he had been previously making common cause. Dr. Hoxton boasted + to the under-masters that the school had never been in such good order as + under Anderson, little guessing that this was but reaping the fruits of a + past victory, or that every boy in the whole school gave the highest place + in their esteem to the deposed dux. + </p> + <p> + To Anderson, Norman’s cordial manner and ready support were the strangest + part of all, only explained by thinking that he deemed it, as he tried to + do himself, merely the fortune of war, and was sensible of no injury. + </p> + <p> + And, for Norman himself, when the first shock was over, and he was + accustomed to the change, he found the cessation of vigilance a relief, + and carried a lighter heart than any time since his mother’s death. His + sisters could not help observing that there was less sadness in the + expression of his eyes, that he carried his head higher, walked with + freedom and elasticity of step, tossed and flourished the Daisy till she + shouted and crowed, while Margaret shrank at such freaks; and, though he + was not much of a laugher himself, contributed much sport in the way of + bright apposite sayings to the home circle. + </p> + <p> + It was a very unexpected mode of cure for depression of spirits, but there + could be no question that it succeeded; and when, a few Saturdays after, + he drove Dr. May again to Groveswood to see young Mr. Lake, who was + recovering, he brought Margaret home a whole pile of botanical + curiosities, and drew his father into an animated battle over natural and + Linnaean systems, which kept the whole party merry with the pros and cons + every evening for a week. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh! the golden-hearted daisies, + Witnessed there before my youth, + To the truth of things, with praises + Of the beauty of the truth.—E. B. BROWNING. +</pre> + <p> + “Margaret, see here.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor threw into her lap a letter, which made her cheeks light up. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ernescliffe wrote that his father’s friend, Captain Gordon, having + been appointed to the frigate Alcestis, had chosen him as one of his + lieutenants, and offered a nomination as naval cadet for his brother. He + had replied that the navy was not Hector’s destination, but, as Captain + Gordon had no one else in view, had prevailed on him to pass on the + proposal to Harry May. + </p> + <p> + Alan wrote in high terms of his captain, declaring that he esteemed the + having sailed with him as one of the greatest advantages he had ever + received, and adding that, for his own part, Dr. May needed no promise + from him to be assured that he would watch over Harry like his own + brother. It was believed that the Alcestis was destined for the South + American station. + </p> + <p> + “A three years’ business,” said Dr. May, with a sigh. “But the thing is + done, and this is as good as we can hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Far better!” said Margaret. “What pleasure it must have given him! Dear + Harry could not sail under more favourable circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I would trust to Ernescliffe as I would to Richard. It is kindly + done, and I will thank him at once. Where does he date from?” + </p> + <p> + “From Portsmouth. He does not say whether he has seen Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he waited for my answer. Suppose I enclose a note for him to + give to Harry. There will be rapture enough, and it is a pity he should + not have the benefit of it.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor sat down to write, while Margaret worked and mused, perhaps on + outfits and new shirts—perhaps on Harry’s lion-locks, beneath a blue + cap and gold band, or, perchance, on the coral shoals of the Pacific. + </p> + <p> + It was one of the quiet afternoons, when all the rest were out, and which + the doctor and his daughter especially valued, when they were able to + spend one together without interruption. Soon, however, a ring at the door + brought an impatient exclamation from the doctor; but his smile beamed out + at the words, “Miss Rivers.” They were great friends; in fact, on terms of + some mutual sauciness, though Meta was, as yet, far less at home with his + daughters, and came in, looking somewhat shy. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, your congeners are gone out!” was the doctor’s reception. “You must + put up with our sober selves.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Flora gone far?” asked Meta. + </p> + <p> + “To Cocksmoor,” said Margaret. “I am very sorry she has missed you.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I be in your way?” said Meta timidly. “Papa has several things to + do, and said he would call for me here.” + </p> + <p> + “Good luck for Margaret,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “So they are gone to Cocksmoor!” said Meta. “How I envy them!” + </p> + <p> + “You would not if you saw the place,” said Dr. May. “I believe Norman is + very angry with me for letting them go near it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but they are of real use there!” + </p> + <p> + “And Miss Meta is obliged to take to envying the black-hole of Cocksmoor, + instead of being content with the eglantine bowers of Abbotstoke! I + commiserate her!” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “If I did any good instead of harm at Abbotstoke!” + </p> + <p> + “Harm!” exclaimed Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “They went on very well without me,” said Meta; “but ever since I have had + the class they have been getting naughtier and noisier every Sunday; and, + last Sunday, the prettiest of all—the one I liked best, and had done + everything for—she began to mimic me—held up her finger, as I + did, and made them all laugh!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is very bad!” said Margaret; “but I suppose she was a very + little one.” + </p> + <p> + “No, a quick clever one, who knew much better, about nine years old. She + used to be always at home in the week, dragging about a great baby; and we + managed that her mother should afford to stay at home and send her to + school. It seemed such a pity her cleverness should be wasted.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor smiled. “Ah! depend upon it, the tyrant-baby was the best + disciplinarian.” + </p> + <p> + Meta looked extremely puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Papa means,” said Margaret, “that if she was inclined to be conceited, + the being teased at home might do her more good than being brought forward + at school.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done everything wrong, it seems,” said Meta, with a shade of what + the French call depit. “I thought it must be right and good—but it + has only done mischief; and now papa says they are an ungrateful set, and + that, if it vexes me, I had better have no more to do with them!” + </p> + <p> + “It does not vex you so much as that, I hope,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I could not bear that!” said Meta; “but it is so different from what + I thought!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you had an Arcadia of good little girls in straw hats, such as I see + in Blanche’s little books,” said the doctor, “all making the young lady an + oracle, and doing wrong—if they do it at all—in the simplest + way, just for an example to the others.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. May! How can you know so well? But do you really think it is their + fault, or mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think me a conjurer?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “What do Mr. and Mrs. Charles Wilmot think?” + </p> + <p> + “I know Mrs. Wilmot thinks I spoil my class. She spoke to me about making + favourites, and sometimes has seemed surprised at things which I have + done. Last Sunday she told me she thought I had better have a steadier + class, and I know whom she will give me—the great big, stupid ones, + at the bottom of the first class! I do believe it is only out of + good-nature that she does not tell me not to teach at all. I have a great + mind I will not; I know I do nothing but harm.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall you say if I tell you I think so too?” asked the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dr. May, you don’t really? Now, does he, Miss May? I am sure I only + want to do them good. I don’t know what I can have done.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret made her perceive that the doctor was smiling, and she changed + her tone, and earnestly begged to be told what they thought of the case; + for if she should show her concern at home, her father and governess would + immediately beg her to cease from all connection with the school, and she + did not feel at all convinced that Mrs. Wilmot liked to have her there. + Feeling injured by the implied accusation of mismanagement, yet, with a + sense of its truth, used to be petted, and new to rebuffs, yet with a + sincere wish to act rightly, she was much perplexed by this, her first + reverse, and had come partly with the view of consulting Flora, though she + had fallen on other counsellors. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret, our adviser general,” said the doctor, “what do you say? Put + yourself in the place of Mrs. Charles Wilmot, and say, shall Miss Rivers + teach or not?” + </p> + <p> + “I had rather you would, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I—I never kept school.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I being Mrs. Wilmot, should certainly be mortified if Miss + Rivers deserted me because the children were naughty. I think, I think I + had rather she came and asked me what she had better do.” + </p> + <p> + “And you would answer ‘teach,’ for fear of vexing her,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “I should, and also for the sake of letting her learn to teach.” + </p> + <p> + “The point where only trial shows one’s ignorance,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t want to do it for my own sake,” said Meta. “I do everything + for my own sake already.” + </p> + <p> + “For theirs, then,” said the doctor. “If teaching will not come by nature, + you must serve an apprenticeship, if you mean to be of service in that + line. Perhaps it was the gift that the fairies omitted.” + </p> + <p> + “But will it do any good to them?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell; but I am sure it would do them harm for you to give it up, + because it is disagreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Meta, with a sigh, “I’ll go and talk to Mrs. Wilmot. I could + not bear to give up anything that seems right just now, because of the + Confirmation.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret eagerly inquired, and it appeared that the bishop had given + notice for a Confirmation in August, and that Mr. Wilmot was already + beginning to prepare his candidates, whilst Mr. Ramsden, always tardy, + never gave notice till the last moment possible. The hope was expressed + that Harry might be able to profit by this opportunity; and Harry’s + prospects were explained to Meta; then the doctor, recollecting something + that he wished to say to Mr. Rivers, began to ask about the chance of his + coming before the time of an engagement of his own. + </p> + <p> + “He said he should be here at about half-past four,” said Meta. “He is + gone to the station to inquire about the trains. Do you know what time the + last comes in?” + </p> + <p> + “At nine forty-five,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “That is what we were afraid of. It is for Bellairs, my maid. Her mother + is very ill, and she is afraid she is not properly nursed. It is about + five miles from the Milbury Station, and we thought of letting her go with + a day-ticket to see about her. She could go in the morning, after I am up; + but I don’t know what is to be done, for she could not get back before I + dress for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret felt perfectly aghast at the cool tone, especially after what had + passed. + </p> + <p> + “It would be quite impossible,” said the doctor. “Even going by the eight + o’clock train, and returning by the last, she would only have two hours to + spare—short enough measure for a sick mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa means to give her whatever she wants for any nurse she may get.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there no one with her mother now?” + </p> + <p> + “A son’s wife, who, they think, is not kind. Poor Bellairs was so grateful + for being allowed to go home. I wonder if I could dress for once without + her?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know old Crabbe?” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “The dear old man at Abbotstoke? Oh, yes, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a very sad case in his family. The mother was dying of a + lingering illness, when the son met with a bad accident. The only daughter + was a lady’s-maid, and could not be spared, though the brother was half + crazy to see her, and there was no one to tend them but a wretch of a + woman, paid by the parish. The poor fellow kept calling for his sister in + his delirium, and, at last, I could not help writing to the mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she let her come?” said Meta, her cheek glowing. + </p> + <p> + “As a great favour, she let her set out by the mail train, after dressing + her for a ball, with orders to return in time for her toilette for an + evening party the next day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I remember,” said Margaret, “her coming here at five in the morning, + and your taking her home.” + </p> + <p> + “And when we got to Abbotstoke the brother was dead. That parish nurse had + not attended to my directions, and, I do believe, was the cause of it. The + mother had had a seizure, and was in the most precarious state.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely she stayed!” + </p> + <p> + “It was as much as her place was worth,” said the doctor; “and her wages + were the chief maintenance of the family. So she had to go back to dress + her mistress, while the old woman lay there, wailing after Betsy. She did + give warning then, but, before the month was out, the mother was dead.” + </p> + <p> + Meta did not speak, and Dr. May presently rose, saying he should try to + meet Mr. Rivers in the town, and went out. Meta sat thoughtful, and at + last, sighing, said, “I wonder whether Bellairs’s mother is so very ill? I + have a great mind to let Susan try to do my hair, and let Bellairs stay a + little longer. I never thought of that.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think you will be sorry,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I shall, for if my hair does not look nice, papa will not be + pleased, and there is Aunt Leonora coming. How odd it will be to be + without Bellairs! I will ask Mrs. Larpent.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” said Margaret. “You must not think we meant to advise; but papa + has seen so many instances of distress, from servants not spared to their + friends in illness, that he feels strongly on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “And I really might have been as cruel as that woman!” said Meta. “Well, I + hope Mrs. Bellairs may be better, and able to spare her daughter. I don’t + know what will become of me without her.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it will have been a satisfaction in one way,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you remember what you began by complaining of, that you could not + be of use? Now, I fancy this would give you the pleasure of undergoing a + little personal inconvenience for the good of another.” + </p> + <p> + Meta looked half puzzled, half thoughtful, and Margaret, who was a little + uneasy at the style of counsel she found herself giving, changed the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + It was a memorable one to little Miss Rivers, opening out to her, as did + almost all her meetings with that family, a new scope for thought and for + duty. The code to which she had been brought up taught that servants were + the machines of their employer’s convenience. Good-nature occasioned much + kindliness of manner and intercourse, and every luxury and indulgence was + afforded freely; but where there was any want of accordance between the + convenience of the two parties, there was no question. The master must be + the first object, the servants’ remedy was in their own hands. + </p> + <p> + Amiable as was Mr. Rivers, this, merely from indulgence and want of + reflection, was his principle; and his daughter had only been acting on + it, though she did not know it, till the feelings that she had never + thought of were thus displayed before her. These were her first practical + lessons that life was not meant to be passed in pleasing ourselves, and + being good-natured at small cost. + </p> + <p> + It was an effort. Meta was very dependent, never having been encouraged to + be otherwise, and Bellairs was like a necessary of life in her estimation; + but strength of principle came to aid her naturally kind-hearted feeling, + and she was pleased by the idea of voluntarily undergoing a privation so + as to test her sincerity. + </p> + <p> + So when her father told her of the inconvenient times of the trains, and + declared that Bellairs must give it up, she answered by proposing to let + her sleep a night or two there, gaily promised to manage very well, and + satisfied him. + </p> + <p> + Her maid’s grateful looks and thanks recompensed her when she made the + offer to her, and inspirited her to an energetic coaxing of Mrs. Larpent, + who, being more fully aware than her father of the needfulness of the + lady’s-maid, and also very anxious that her darling should appear to the + best advantage before the expected aunt, Lady Leonora Langdale, was + unwilling to grant more than one night at the utmost. + </p> + <p> + Meta carried the day, and her last assurance to Bellairs was that she + might stay as long as seemed necessary to make her mother comfortable. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon Meta found herself more helpful in some matters than she had + expected, but at a loss in others. Susan, with all Mrs. Larpent’s + supervision, could not quite bring her dress to the air that was so + peculiarly graceful and becoming; and she often caught her papa’s eye + looking at her as if he saw something amiss, and could not discover what + it was. Then came Aunt Leonora, always very kind to Meta, but the dread of + the rest of the household, whom she was wont to lecture on the proper care + of her niece. Miss Rivers was likely to have a considerable fortune, and + Lady Leonora intended her to be a very fashionable and much admired young + lady, under her own immediate protection. + </p> + <p> + The two cousins, Leonora and Agatha, talked to her; the one of her balls, + the other of her music—patronised her, and called her their good + little cousin—while they criticised the stiff set of those + unfortunate plaits made by Susan, and laughed, as if it was an unheard-of + concession, at Bellairs’s holiday. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, when “Honoured Miss” received a note, begging for three + days’ longer grace, till a niece should come, in whom Bellairs could place + full confidence, she took it on herself to return free consent. Lady + Leonora found out what she had done, and reproved her, telling her it was + only the way to make “those people” presume, and Mrs. Larpent was also + taken to task; but, decidedly, Meta did not regret what she had done, + though she felt as if she had never before known how to appreciate + comfort, when she once more beheld Bellairs stationed at her toilette + table. + </p> + <p> + Meta was asked about her friends. She could not mention any one but Mrs. + Charles Wilmot and the Misses May. + </p> + <p> + “Physician’s daughters; oh!” said Lady Leonora. + </p> + <p> + And she proceeded to exhort Mr. Rivers to bring his daughter to London, or + its neighbourhood, where she might have masters, and be in the way of + forming intimacies suited to her connections. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rivers dreaded London—never was well there, and did not like the + trouble of moving—while Meta was so attached to the Grange, that she + entreated him not to think of leaving it, and greatly dreaded her aunt’s + influence. Lady Leonora did, indeed, allow that the Grange was a very + pretty place; her only complaint was the want of suitable society for + Meta; she could not bear the idea of her growing accustomed—for want + of something better—to the vicar’s wife and the pet doctor’s + daughters. + </p> + <p> + Flora had been long desirous to effect a regular call at Abbotstoke, and + it was just now that she succeeded. Mrs. Charles Wilmot’s little girl was + to have a birthday feast, at which Mary, Blanche, and Aubrey were to + appear. Flora went in charge of them, and as soon as she had safely + deposited them, and appointed Mary to keep Aubrey out of mischief, she + walked up to the Grange, not a whit daunted by the report of the very fine + ladies who were astonishing the natives of Abbotstoke. + </p> + <p> + She was admitted, and found herself in the drawing-room, with a quick + lively-looking lady, whom she perceived to be Lady Leonora, and who + instantly began talking to her very civilly. Flora was never at a loss, + and they got on extremely well; her ease and self-possession, without + forwardness, telling much to her advantage. Meta came in, delighted to see + her, but, of course, the visit resulted in no really intimate talk, though + it was not without effect. Flora declared Lady Leonora Langdale to be a + most charming person; and Lady Leonora, on her side, asked Meta who was + that very elegant conversible girl. “Flora May,” was the delighted answer, + now that the aunt had committed herself by commendation. And she did not + retract it; she pronounced Flora to be something quite out of the common + way, and supposed that she had had unusual advantages. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rivers took care to introduce to his sister-in-law Dr. May (who would + fain have avoided it), but ended by being in his turn pleased and + entertained by her brilliant conversation, which she put forth for him, as + her instinct showed her that she was talking to a man of high ability. A + perfect gentleman she saw him to be, and making out some mutual + connections far up in the family tree of the Mackenzies, she decided that + the May family were an acquisition, and very good companions for her niece + at present, while not yet come out. So ended the visit, with this great + triumph for Meta, who had a strong belief in Aunt Leonora’s power and + infallibility, and yet had not consulted her about Bellairs, nor about the + school question. + </p> + <p> + She had missed one Sunday’s school on account of her aunt’s visit, but the + resolution made beside Margaret’s sofa had not been forgotten. She spent + her Saturday afternoon in a call on Mrs. Wilmot, ending with a walk + through the village; she confessed her ignorance, apologised for her + blunders, and put herself under the direction which once she had fancied + too strict and harsh to be followed. + </p> + <p> + And on Sunday she was content to teach the stupid girls, and abstain from + making much of the smooth-faced engaging set. She thought it very dull + work, but she could feel that it was something not done to please herself; + and whereas her father had feared she would be dull when her cousins were + gone, he found her more joyous than ever. + </p> + <p> + There certainly was a peculiar happiness about Margaret Rivers; her + vexations were but ripples, rendering the sunny course of her life more + sparkling, and each exertion in the way of goodness was productive of so + much present joy that the steps of her ladder seemed, indeed, to be of + diamonds. + </p> + <p> + Her ladder—for she was, indeed, mounting upwards. She was very + earnest in her Confirmation preparation, most anxious to do right and to + contend with her failings; but the struggle at present was easy; and the + hopes, joys, and incentives shone out more and more upon her in this + blithe stage of her life. + </p> + <p> + She knew there was a dark side, but hope and love were more present to her + than was fear. Happy those to whom such young days are granted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is the generous spirit, who, when brought + Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought + Upon the plan that pleased his childish thought, + Whose high endeavours are an inward light, + Making the path before him always bright. + WORDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + The holidays had commenced about a week when Harry, now duly appointed to + H. M. S. Alcestis, was to come home on leave, as he proudly expressed it. + </p> + <p> + A glad troop of brothers and sisters, with the doctor himself, walked up + to the station to meet him, and who was happiest when, from the window, + was thrust out the rosy face, with the gold band? Mary gave such a shriek + and leap, that two passengers and one guard turned round to look at her, + to the extreme discomfiture of Flora and Norman, evidenced by one by a + grave “Mary! Mary!” by the other, by walking off to the extreme end of the + platform, and trying to look as if he did not belong to them, in which he + was imitated by his shadow, Tom. + </p> + <p> + Sailor already, rather than schoolboy, Harry cared not for spectators; his + bound from the carriage, and the hug between him, and Mary would have been + worthy of the return from the voyage. The next greeting was for his + father, and the sisters had had their share by the time the two brothers + thought fit to return from their calm walk on the platform. + </p> + <p> + Grand was it to see that party return to the town—the naval cadet, + with his arm linked in Mary’s, and Aubrey clinging to his hand, and the + others walking behind, admiring him as he turned his bright face every + moment with some glad question or answer, “How was Margaret?” Oh, so much + better; she had been able to walk across the room, with Norman’s arm round + her—they hoped she would soon use crutches—and she sat up + more. “And the baby?” More charming than ever—four teeth—would + soon walk—such a darling! Then came “my dirk, the ship, our berth.” + “Papa, do ask Mr. Ernescliffe to come here. I know he could get leave.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ernescliffe! You used to call him Alan!” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but that is all over now. You forget what we do on board. Captain + Gordon himself calls me Mr. May!” + </p> + <p> + Some laughed, others were extremely impressed. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! There’s Ned Anderson coming,” cried Mary. “Now! Let him see you, + Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “What matters Ned Anderson to me?” said Harry; and, with an odd mixture of + shamefacedness and cordiality, he marched full up to his old + school-fellow, and shook hands with him, as if able, in the plenitude of + his officership, to afford plenty of good-humoured superiority. Tom had + meantime subsided out of all view. But poor Harry’s exultation had a fall. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” graciously inquired ‘Mr. May’, “and how is Harvey?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well. We are expecting him home to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Where has he been?” + </p> + <p> + “To Oxford, about the Randall.” + </p> + <p> + Harry gave a disturbed, wondering look round, on seeing Edward’s air of + malignant satisfaction. He saw nothing that reassured him, except the + quietness of Norman’s own face, but even that altered as their eyes met. + Before another word could be said, however, the doctor’s hand was on + Harry’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You must not keep him now, Ned,” said he—“his sister has not seen + him yet.” + </p> + <p> + And he moved his little procession onwards, still resting on Harry’s + shoulder, while a silence had fallen on all, and even the young sailor + ventured no question. Only Tom’s lips were quivering, and Ethel had + squeezed Norman’s hand. “Poor Harry!” he muttered, “this is worst of all! + I wish we had written it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I now, but we always trusted it would come right. Oh! if I were but + a boy to flog that Edward!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Ethel, remember what we resolved.” + </p> + <p> + They were entering their own garden, where, beneath the shade of the + tulip-tree, Margaret lay on her couch. Her arms were held out, and Harry + threw himself upon her, but when he rose from her caress, Norman and Tom + were gone. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” he now first ventured to ask. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” said Dr. May, leading the way to his study, where he + related the whole history of the suspicion that Norman had incurred. He + was glad that he had done so in private, for Harry’s indignation and grief + went beyond his expectations; and when at last it appeared that Harvey + Anderson was actually Randall-scholar, after opening his eyes with the + utmost incredulity, and causing it to be a second time repeated, he gave a + gulp or two, turned very red, and ended by laying his head on the table, + and fairly sobbing and crying aloud, in spite of dirk, uniform, and + manhood. + </p> + <p> + “Harry! why, Harry, my boy! We should have prepared you for this,” said + the doctor affectionately. “We have left off breaking our hearts about it. + I don’t want any comfort now for having gold instead of glitter; though at + first I was as bad as you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I had but been there!” said Harry, combating unsuccessfully with + his tears. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! so we all said, Norman and all. Your word would have cleared him—that + is, if you had not been in the thick of the mischief. Ha! July, should not + you have been on the top of the wall?” + </p> + <p> + “I would have stood by him, at least. Would not I have given Axworthy and + Anderson two such black eyes as they could not have shown in school for a + week? They had better look out!” cried Harry savagely. + </p> + <p> + “What! An officer in her Majesty’s service! Eh, Mr. May?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t, papa, don’t. Oh! I thought it would have been so happy, when I + came home, to see Norman Randall-scholar. Oh! now I don’t care for the + ship, nor anything.” Again Harry’s face went down on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Harry,” said Dr. May, pulling off the spectacles that had + become very dewy, “don’t let us make fools of ourselves, or they will + think we are dying for the scholarship.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care for the scholarship, but to have June turned down—and + disgrace—” + </p> + <p> + “What I care for, Harry, is having June what he is, and that I know better + now.” + </p> + <p> + “He is! he is—he is June himself, and no mistake!” cried Harry, with + vehemence. + </p> + <p> + “The prime of the year, is not it?” said the doctor, smiling, as he + stroked down the blue sleeve, as if he thought that generous July did not + fall far short of it. + </p> + <p> + “That he is!” exclaimed Harry. “I have never met one fellow like him.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be a chance if you ever do,” said Dr. May. “That is better than + scholarships!” + </p> + <p> + “It should have been both,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Norman thinks the disappointment has been very good for him,” said the + doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it made him what he is now. All success is no discipline, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + Harry looked as if he did not know. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you will understand better by-and-by, but this I can tell you, + Harry, that the patient bearing of his vexation has done more to renew + Norman’s spirits than all his prosperity. See if if has not. I believe it + is harder to every one of us, than to him. To Ethel, especially, it is a + struggle to be in charity with the Andersons.” + </p> + <p> + “In charity!” repeated Harry. “Papa! you don’t want us to like a horrid, + sneaking, mean-spirited pair like those, that have used Norman in that + shameful way?” + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly not; I only want you to feel no more personal anger than if + it had been Cheviot, or some indifferent person, that had been injured.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have hated them all the same!” cried Harry. + </p> + <p> + “If it is all the same, and it is the treachery you hate, I ask no more,” + said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help it, papa, I can’t! If I were to meet those fellows, do you + think I could shake hands with them? If I did not lick Ned all down + Minster Street, he might think himself lucky.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Harry, I won’t argue any more. I have no right to preach + forbearance. Your brother’s example is better worth than my precept. Shall + we go back to Margaret, or have you anything to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + Harry made no positive answer, but pressed close to his father, who put + his arm round him, while the curly head was laid on his shoulder. + Presently he said, with a great sigh, “There’s nothing like home.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that what you wanted to say?” asked Dr. May, smiling, as he held the + boy more closely to him. + </p> + <p> + “No; but it will be a long time before I come back. They think we shall + have orders for the Pacific.” + </p> + <p> + “You will come home our real lion,” said the doctor. “How much you will + have to tell!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Harry; “but oh! it is very different from coming home every + night, not having any one to tell a thing to.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to say anything now?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. I told you in my letter about the half-sovereign.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, never mind that.” + </p> + <p> + “And there was one night, I am afraid, I did not stand by a little fellow + that they bullied about his prayers. Perhaps he would have gone on, if I + had helped him!” + </p> + <p> + “Does he sail with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he was at school. If I had told him that he and I would stand by each + other—but he looked so foolish, and began to cry! I am sorry now.” + </p> + <p> + “Weak spirits have much to bear,” said the doctor, “and you stronger ones, + who don’t mind being bullied, are meant, I suppose, to help them, as + Norman has been doing by poor little Tommy.” + </p> + <p> + “It was thinking of Norman—that made me sorry. I knew there was + something else, but you see I forget when I don’t see you and Margaret + every day.” + </p> + <p> + “You have One always near, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but I cannot always recollect. And there is such a row at night + on board, I cannot think or attend as I ought,” murmured Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your life, sleeping at home in quiet, has not prepared you for that + trial,” said the doctor. “But others have kept upright habits under the + same, you know—and God helps those who are doing their best.” + </p> + <p> + Harry sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I mean to do my best,” he added; “and if it was not for feeling bad, I + should like it. I do like it”—and his eye sparkled, and his smile + beamed, though the tear was undried. + </p> + <p> + “I know you do!” said Dr. May, smiling, “and for feeling bad, my Harry, I + fear you must do that by sea, or land, as long as you are in this world. + God be thanked that you grieve over the feeling. But He is ready to aid, + and knows the trial, and you will be brought nearer to Him before you + leave us.” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret wrote about the Confirmation. Am I old enough?” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish it, Harry, under these circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I do,” said Harry, uneasily twirling a button. + </p> + <p> + “But then, if I’ve got to forgive the Andersons—” + </p> + <p> + “We won’t talk any more of that,” said the doctor; “here is poor Mary, + reconnoitring, to know why I am keeping you from her.” + </p> + <p> + Then began the scampering up and down the house, round and round the + garden, visiting every pet or haunt or contrivance; Mary and Harry at the + head, Blanche and Tom in full career after them, and Aubrey stumping and + scrambling at his utmost speed, far behind. + </p> + <p> + Not a word passed between Norman and Harry on the school misadventure, + but, after the outbreak of the latter, he treated it as a thing forgotten, + and brought all his high spirits to enliven the family party. Richard, + too, returned later on the same day, and though not received with the same + uproarious joy as Harry, the elder section of the family were as happy in + their way as what Blanche called the middle-aged. The Daisy was brought + down, and the eleven were again all in the same room, though there were + suppressed sighs from some, who reflected how long it might be before they + could again assemble. + </p> + <p> + Tea went off happily in the garden, with much laughing and talking. “Pity + to leave such good company!” said the doctor, unwillingly rising at last—“but + I must go to the Union—I promised Ward to meet him there.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, let me walk with you!” cried Harry. + </p> + <p> + “And me!” cried other voices, and the doctor proposed that they should + wait for him in the meads, and extend the walk after the visit. Richard + and Ethel both expressing their intention of adhering to Margaret—the + latter observing how nice it would be to get rid of everybody, and have a + talk. + </p> + <p> + “What have we been doing all this time?” said Dr. May, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Chattering, not conversing,” said Ethel saucily. + </p> + <p> + “Ay! the Cocksmoor board is going to sit,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “What is a board?” inquired Blanche, who had just come down prepared for + her walk. + </p> + <p> + “Richard, Margaret, and Ethel, when they sit upon Cocksmoor,” said Dr. + May. + </p> + <p> + “But Margaret never does sit on Cocksmoor, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Only allegorically, Blanche,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t understand what is a board?” pursued Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. May in his ship,” was Norman’s suggestion. + </p> + <p> + Poor Blanche stood in perplexity. “What is it really?” + </p> + <p> + “Something wooden headed,” continued the provoking papa. + </p> + <p> + “A board is all wooden, not only its head,” said Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so, especially at Stoneborough!” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “It is what papa is when he comes out of the council-room,” added Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Or what every one is while the girls are rigging themselves,” sighed + Harry. “Ha! here’s Polly—now we only want Flora.” + </p> + <p> + “And my stethoscope! Has any one seen my stethoscope!” exclaimed the + doctor, beginning to rush frantically into the study, dining-room, and his + own room; but failing, quietly took up a book, and gave up the search, + which was vigorously pursued by Richard, Flora, and Mary, until the + missing article was detected, where Aubrey had left it in the nook on the + stairs, after using it for a trumpet and a telescope. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now my goods will have a chance!” said Dr. May, as he took it, and + patted Richard’s shoulder. “I have my best right hand, and Margaret will + be saved endless sufferings.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay! poor dear! don’t I see what she undergoes, when nobody will remember + that useful proverb, ‘A place for everything, and everything in its + place.’ I believe one use of her brains is to make an inventory of all the + things left about the drawing-room; but, beyond it, it is past her power.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Flora, rather aggrieved; “I do the best I can, but, when + nobody ever puts anything into its place, what can I do, single-handed? So + no one ever goes anywhere without first turning the house upside down for + their property; and Aubrey, and now even baby, are always carrying + whatever they can lay hands on into the nursery. I can’t bear it; and the + worst of it is that,” she added, finishing her lamentation, after the + others were out at the door, “papa and Ethel have neither of them the + least shame about it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Flora, that is not fair!” exclaimed Margaret—but Flora was + gone. + </p> + <p> + “I have shame,” sighed Ethel, walking across the room disconsolately, to + put a book into a shelf. + </p> + <p> + “And you don’t leave things trainants as you used,” said Margaret. “That is what + I meant.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I did not,” said Ethel; “I was thinking whether I had better not + make myself pay a forfeit. Suppose you keep a book for me, Margaret, and + make a mark against me at everything I leave about, and if I pay a + farthing for each, it will be so much away from Cocksmoor, so I must cure + myself!” + </p> + <p> + “And what shall become of the forfeits?” asked Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they won’t be enough to be worth having, I hope,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Give them to the Ladies’ Committee,” said Ethel, making a face. “Oh, + Ritchie! they are worse than ever. We are so glad that Flora is going to + join it, and see whether she can do any good.” + </p> + <p> + “We?” said Margaret, hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I know you aren’t, but papa said she might—and you know she has + so much tact and management—” + </p> + <p> + “As Norman says,” observed Margaret doubtfully. “I cannot like the notion + of Flora going and squabbling with Mrs. Ledwich and Louisa Anderson!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think, Ritchie?” asked Ethel. “Is it not too bad that they + should have it all their own way, and spoil the whole female population? + Why, the last thing they did was to leave off reading the Prayer-book + prayers morning and evening! And it is much expected that next they will + attack all learning by heart.” + </p> + <p> + “It is too bad,” said Richard, “but Flora can hardly hinder them.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be one voice,” said Ethel; “but oh! if I could only say half what + I have in my mind, they must see the error. Why, these, these—what + they call formal—these the ties—links on to the Church—on + to what is good—if they don’t learn them soundly—rammed down + hard—you know what I mean—so that they can’t remember the + first—remember when they did not know them—they will never get + to learn—know—understand when they can understand!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ethel, don’t frown so horribly, or it will spoil your eloquence,” + said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand either,” said Richard gravely. “Not understand when + they can understand? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Ritchie, don’t you see? If they don’t learn them—hard, firm, + by rote when they can’t—they won’t understand when they can.” + </p> + <p> + “If they don’t learn when they can’t, they won’t understand when they + can?” puzzled Richard, making Margaret laugh; but Ethel was too much in + earnest for amusement. + </p> + <p> + “If they don’t learn them by rote when they have strong memories. Yes, + that’s it!” she continued; “they will not know them well enough to + understand them when they are old enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Who won’t learn and understand what?” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ritchie, Ritchie! Why the children—the Psalms—the Gospels—the + things. They ought to know them, love them, grow up to them, before they + know the meaning, or they won’t care. Memory, association, affection, all + those come when one is younger than comprehension!” + </p> + <p> + “Younger than one’s own comprehension?” + </p> + <p> + “Richard, you are grown more tiresome than ever. Are you laughing at me?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I beg your pardon—I did not mean it,” said Richard. “I am + very sorry to be so stupid.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ritchie, it was only my blundering—never mind.” + </p> + <p> + “But what did you mean? I want to know, indeed, Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that memory and association come before comprehension, so that one + ought to know all good things—fa—with familiarity before one + can understand, because understanding does not make one love. Oh! one does + that before, and, when the first little gleam, little bit of a sparklet of + the meaning does come, then it is so valuable and so delightful.” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of a little bit of a sparklet before,” said Richard, “but I + think I do see what Ethel means; and it is like what I heard and liked in + a university sermon some Sundays ago, saying that these lessons and holy + words were to be impressed on us here from infancy on earth, that we might + be always unravelling their meaning, and learn it fully at last—where + we hope to be.” + </p> + <p> + “The very same thought!” exclaimed Margaret, delighted; “but,” after a + pause, “I am afraid the Ladies’ Committee might not enter into it in plain + English, far less in Ethel’s language.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Margaret! You know I never meant myself. I never can get the right + words for what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “And you leave about your faux commencements, as M. Ballompre would call + them, for us to stumble over,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “But Flora would manage!” said Ethel. “She has power over people, and can + influence them. Oh, Ritchie, don’t persuade papa out of letting her go.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Mr. Wilmot wish it?” asked Richard. + </p> + <p> + “I have not heard him say, but he was very much vexed about the prayers,” + said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Will he stay here for the holidays?” + </p> + <p> + “No, his father has not been well, and he is gone to take his duty. He + walked with us to Cocksmoor before he went, and we did so wish for you.” + </p> + <p> + “How have you been getting on?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, on the whole,” said Ethel, “but, oh, dear! oh, dear, + Richard, the M’Carthys are gone!” + </p> + <p> + “Gone, where?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to Wales. I knew nothing of it till they were off. Una and Fergus + were missing, and Jane Taylor told me they were all gone. Oh, it is so + horrid! Una had really come to be so good and so much in earnest. She + behaved so well at school and church, that even Mrs. Ledwich liked her, + and she used to read her Testament half the day, and bring her + Sunday-school lessons to ask me about! Oh! I was so fond of her, and it + really seemed to have done some good with her. And now it is all lost! Oh, + I wish I knew what would become of my poor child!” + </p> + <p> + “The only hope is that it may not be all lost,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “With such a woman for a mother!” said Ethel; “and going to some + heathenish place again! If I could only have seen her first, and begged + her to go to church and say her prayers. If I only knew where she is gone! + but I don’t. I did think Una would have come to wish me good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry to lose her,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilmot says it is bread cast on the waters,” said Margaret—“he + was very kind in consoling Ethel, who came home quite in despair.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he said it was one of the trials,” said Ethel, “and that it might be + better for Una as well as for me. And I am trying to care for the rest + still, but I cannot yet as I did for her. There are none of the eyes that + look as if they were eating up one’s words before they come, and that + smile of comprehension! Oh, they all are such stupid little dolts, and so + indifferent!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Ethel!” + </p> + <p> + “Fancy last Friday—Mary and I found only eight there—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember what a broiling day Friday was?” interrupted Margaret. + “Miss Winter and Norman both told me I ought not to let them go, and I + began to think so when they came home. Mary was the colour of a peony!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it would not have signified if the children had been good for + anything, but all their mothers were out at work, and, of those that did + come, hardly one had learned their lessons—Willy Blake had lost his + spelling-card; Anne Harris kicked Susan Pope, and would not say she was + sorry; Mary Hale would not know M from N, do all our Mary would; and Jane + Taylor, after all the pains I have taken with her, when I asked how the + Israelites crossed the Red Sea, seemed never to have heard of them.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret could have said that Ethel had come in positively crying with + vexation, but with no diminution of the spirit of perseverance. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad you are come, Richard!” she continued. “You will put a + little new life into them. They all looked so pleased when we told them + Mr. Richard was coming.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope we shall get on,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to judge whether the Popes are civilised enough to be dressed + for Sunday-school. Oh, and the money! Here is the account-book—” + </p> + <p> + “How neatly you have kept it, Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it was for you, you know. Receipts—see, aren’t you surprised?” + </p> + <p> + “Four pounds eighteen and eightpence! That is a great deal!” + </p> + <p> + “The three guineas were Mr. Rivers’s fees, you know; then, Margaret gave + us half-a-sovereign, and Mary a shilling, and there was one that we picked + up, tumbling about the house, and papa said we might have, and the + twopence were little Blanche’s savings. Oh, Ritchie!” as a bright coin + appeared on the book. + </p> + <p> + “That is all I could save this term,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is famous! Now, I do think I may put another whole sovereign away + into the purse for the church. See, here is what we have paid. Shoes—those + did bring our money very low, and then I bought a piece of print which + cost sixteen shillings, but it will make plenty of frocks. So, you see, + the balance is actually two pounds nine! That is something. The nine + shillings will go on till we get another fee; for I have two frocks ready + made for the Popes, so the two pounds are a real nest-egg towards the + church.” + </p> + <p> + “The church!” repeated Rlchard, half smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I looked in the paper the other day, and saw that a chapel had been built + for nine hundred pounds,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “And you have two!” + </p> + <p> + “Two in eight months, Ritchie, and more will come as we get older. I have + a scheme in my head, but I won’t tell you now.” + </p> + <p> + “Nine hundred! And a church has to be endowed as well as built, you know, + Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! never mind that now. If we can begin and build, some good person will + come and help. I’ll run and fetch it, Ritchie. I drew out a sketch of what + I want it to be.” + </p> + <p> + “What a girl that is!” said Richard, as Ethel dashed away. + </p> + <p> + “Is not she?” said Margaret. “And she means all so heartily. Do you know + she has spent nothing on her own pleasures, not a book, not a thing has + she bought this year, except a present for Blanche’s birthday, and some + silk to net a purse for Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help being sometimes persuaded that she will succeed,” said + Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, energy, self-denial, perseverance, they go a great way,” said + Margaret. “And yet when we look at poor dear Ethel, and her queer ungainly + ways, and think of her building a church!” + </p> + <p> + Neither Richard nor Margaret could help laughing, but they checked it at + once, and the former said, “That brave spirit is a reproof to us all.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Margaret; “and so is the resolution to mend her little + faults.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel came back, having, of course, mislaid her sketch, and, much vexed, + wished to know if it ought to cause her first forfeit, but Margaret + thought these should not begin till the date of the agreement, and the + three resumed the Cocksmoor discussion. + </p> + <p> + It lasted till the return of the walking party, so late, that they had + been star-gazing, and came in, in full dispute as to which was Cygnus and + which Aquila, while Blanche was talking very grandly of Taurus + Poniatouski, and Harry begging to be told which constellations he should + still see in the southern hemisphere. Dr. May was the first to rectify the + globe for the southern latitudes, and fingers were affectionately laid on + Orion’s studded belt, as though he were a friend who would accompany the + sailor-boy. Voices grew loud and eager in enumerating the stars common to + both; and so came bedtime, and the globe stood on the table in danger of + being forgotten. Ethel diligently lifted it up; and while Norman exclaimed + at her tidiness, Margaret told how a new leaf was to be turned, and of her + voluntary forfeits. + </p> + <p> + “A very good plan,” cried the doctor. “We can’t do better than follow her + example.” + </p> + <p> + “What you, papa? Oh, what fun!” exclaimed Harry. + </p> + <p> + “So you think I shall be ruined, Mr. Monkey. How do you know I shall not + be the most orderly of all? A penny for everything left about, confiscated + for the benefit of Cocksmoor, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “And twopence for pocket-handkerchiefs, if you please,” said Norman, with + a gesture of disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. From Blanche, upwards. Margaret shall have a book, and set + down marks against us—hold an audit every Saturday night. What say + you, Blanche?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hope Flora will leave something about!” cried Blanche, dancing with + glee. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, no, we never mention her, + We never breathe her name.—SONG. +</pre> + <p> + A great deal of merriment had come home with Harry, who never was grave + for ten minutes without a strong reaction, and distracted the house with + his noise and his antics, in proportion, as it sometimes seemed, to the + spaces of serious thought and reading spent in the study, where Dr. May + did his best to supply Mr. Ramsden’s insufficient attention to his + Confirmation candidates, by giving an hour every day to Norman, Ethel, and + Harry. He could not lecture, but he read with them, and his own + earnestness was very impressive. + </p> + <p> + The two eldest felt deeply, but Harry often kept it in doubt, whether he + were not as yet too young and wild for permanent impressions, so rapid + were his transitions, and so overpowering his high spirits. Not that these + were objected to; but there was a feeling that there might as well be + moderation in all things, and that it would have been satisfactory if, + under present circumstances, he had been somewhat more subdued and + diligent. + </p> + <p> + “There are your decimals not done yet, Harry.” + </p> + <p> + For Harry, being somewhat deficient in arithmetic, had been recommended to + work in that line during his visit at home—an operation usually + deferred, as at present, to the evening. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to do my sums now, Flora,” said Harry, somewhat annoyed. + </p> + <p> + He really fetched his arithmetic, and his voice was soon heard asking how + he was ever to put an end to a sum that would turn to nothing but + everlasting threes. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing, young ladies?” asked Dr. May. “Did you call on + Miss Walkingham?” + </p> + <p> + “Flora and Blanche did,” said Ethel; “I thought you did not want me to go, + and I had not time. Besides, a London grand young lady—oh!” and + Ethel shook her head in disgust. + </p> + <p> + “That is not the way you treat Meta Rivers.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Meta is different! She has never been out!” + </p> + <p> + “I should have been glad for you to have seen Miss Walkingham,” said her + father. “Pretty manners are improving; besides, old Lady Walkingham begged + me to send my daughters.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not have seen her,” said Ethel, “for she was not well enough to + let us in.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it not pushing?” said Flora. “There were the Andersons leaving their + card!” + </p> + <p> + “Those Andersons!” exclaimed the doctor; “I am sick of the very sound of + the name. As sure as my name is Dick May, I’ll include it in Margaret’s + book of fines.” + </p> + <p> + Flora looked dignified. + </p> + <p> + “They are always harping on that little trumpery girl’s nonsense,” said + Harry. “Aught, aught, eight, that is eight thousandths, eh, Norman! If it + was about those two fellows, the boys—” + </p> + <p> + “You would harp only on what affects you?” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t; men never do. That is one hundred and twenty-fifth.” + </p> + <p> + “One man does it to an hundred and twenty-five women?” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “It is rather a female defect, indeed,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Defect!” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dr. May, “since it is not only irksome to the hearers, but + leads to the breaking of the ninth commandment.” + </p> + <p> + Many voices declared, in forms of varying severity, that it was impossible + to speak worse of the Andersons than they deserved. + </p> + <p> + “Andersons again!” cried Dr. May. “One, two, three, four, five, six + forfeits!” + </p> + <p> + “Papa himself, for he said the name,” saucily put in Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “I think I should like the rule to be made in earnest,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “What! in order to catch Flora’s pence for Cocksmoor?” suggested Harry. + </p> + <p> + “No, but because it is malice. I mean, that is, if there is dislike, or a + grudge in our hearts at them—talking for ever of nasty little + miserable irritations makes it worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you do it?” asked Flora. “I heard you only on Sunday + declaiming about Fanny Anderson.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” cried out all at once. “There goes Flora.” + </p> + <p> + She looked intensely serious and innocent. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Ethel. “It is the very reason I want the rule to be made, + just to stop us, for I am sure we must often say more than is right.” + </p> + <p> + “Especially when we come to the pass of declaring that the ninth + commandment cannot be broken in regard to them,” observed the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Most likely they are saying much the same of us,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Or worse,” rejoined Dr. May. “The injured never hates as much as the + injurer.” + </p> + <p> + “Now papa has said the severest thing of all!” whispered Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Proving the inexpedience of personalities,” said Dr. May, “and in good + time enter the evening post.—Why! how now, Mr. May, are you gone + mad?” + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! why ho! ha! hurrah!” and up went Harry’s book of decimals to the + ceiling, coming down upon a candle, which would have been overturned on + Ethel’s work, if it had not been dexterously caught by Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Harry!” indignantly cried Ethel and Flora, “see what you have done;” and + the doctor’s voice called to order, but Harry could not heed. “Hear! hear! + he has a fortune, an estate.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Tell us—don’t be so absurd. Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Who, Mr. Ernescliffe. Here is a letter from Hector. Only listen: + </p> + <p> + “‘Did you know we had an old far-away English cousin, one Mr. Halliday? I + hardly did, though Alan was named after him, and he belonged to my mother. + He was a cross old fellow, and took no notice of us, but within the last + year or two, his nephew, or son, or something, died, and now he is just + dead, and the lawyer wrote to tell Alan he is heir-at-law. Mr. Ernescliffe + of Maplewood! Does it not sound well? It is a beautiful great place in + Shropshire, and Alan and I mean to run off to see it as soon as he can + have any time on shore.’” + </p> + <p> + Ethel could not help looking at Margaret, but was ashamed of her + impertinence, and coloured violently, whereas her sister did not colour at + all, and Norman, looking down, wondered whether Alan would make the + voyage. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course he will; he must!” said Harry. “He would never give up + now.” + </p> + <p> + Norman further wondered whether Hector would remain on the Stoneborough + foundation, and Mary hoped they should not lose him; but there was no + great readiness to talk over the event, and there soon was a silence + broken by Flora saying, “He is no such nobody, as Louisa Anderson said, + when we—” + </p> + <p> + Another shout, which caused Flora to take refuge in playing waltzes for + the rest of the evening. Moreover, to the extreme satisfaction of Mary, + she left her crochet-needle on the floor at night. While a tumultuous + party were pursuing her with it to claim the penny, and Richard was + conveying Margaret upstairs, Ethel found an opportunity of asking her + father if he were not very glad of Mr. Ernescliffe’s good fortune. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very. He is a good fellow, and will make a good use of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And now, papa, does it not make—You won’t say now you are sorry he + came here.” + </p> + <p> + She had no answer but a sigh, and a look that made her blush for having + ventured so far. She was so much persuaded that great events must ensue, + that, all the next day, she listened to every ring of the bell, and when + one at last was followed by a light, though, to her ears, manly sounding + tread, she looked up flushing with expectation. + </p> + <p> + Behold, she was disappointed. “Miss Walkingham” was announced, and she + rose surprised, for the lady in question had only come to Stoneborough for + a couple of days with an infirm mother, who, having known Dr. May in old + times, had made it her especial request that he would let her see his + daughters. She was to proceed on her journey to-day, and the return of the + visit had been by no means expected. + </p> + <p> + Flora went forward to receive her, wondering to see her so young looking, + and so unformed. She held out her hand, with a red wrist, and, as far as + could be seen under her veil, coloured when presented to the recumbent + Margaret. How she got into her chair, they hardly knew, for Flora was at + that moment extremely annoyed by hearing an ill-bred peal of Mary’s + laughter in the garden, close to the window; but she thought it best to + appear unconscious, since she had no power to stop it. + </p> + <p> + Margaret thought the stranger embarrassed, and kindly inquired for Lady + Walkingham. + </p> + <p> + “Much the same, thank you,” mumbled a voice down in the throat. + </p> + <p> + A silence, until Margaret tried another question, equally briefly + answered; and, after a short interval, the young lady contrived to make + her exit, with the same amount of gaucherie as had marked her entrance. + </p> + <p> + Expressions of surprise at once began, and were so loud, that when Harry + entered the room, his inquiry was, “What’s the row?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Walkingham,” said Ethel, “but you won’t understand. She seemed half + wild! Worse than me!” + </p> + <p> + “How did you like the pretty improving manners?” asked Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Manners! she had none,” said Flora. “She, highly connected! used to the + best society!” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know what the best society do?” asked Harry. + </p> + <p> + “The poor thing seemed very shy,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about shyness,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “She was stifling a laugh all the time, like a rude schoolboy. And I + thought papa said she was pretty!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay? Did you think her so?” asked Harry. + </p> + <p> + “A great broad red face—and so awkward!” cried Flora indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “If one could have seen her face, I think she might have been + nice-looking,” said Margaret. “She had pretty golden curls, and merry blue + eyes, rather like Harry’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Umph!” said Flora; “beauty and manners seemed to me much on a par. This + is one of papa’s swans, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t believe it was Miss Walkingham at all,” said Ethel. “It must have + been some boy in disguise.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” cried Margaret, starting with the painful timidity of + helplessness. + </p> + <p> + “Do look whether anything is gone. Where’s the silver inkstand?” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t think she could put that into her pocket,” said Ethel, laughing + as she held it up. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Do, Harry, see if the umbrellas are safe in the hall. I + wish you would, for now I come to remember, the Walkinghams went at nine + this morning. Miss Winter said that she saw the old lady helped into the + carriage, as she passed.” Margaret’s eyes looked quite large and + terrified. “She must have been a spy—the whole gang will come at + night. I wish Richard was here. Harry, it really is no laughing matter. + You had better give notice to the police.” + </p> + <p> + The more Margaret was alarmed, the more Harry laughed. “Never mind, + Margaret, I’ll take care of you! Here’s my dirk. I’ll stick all the + robbers.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry! Harry! Oh, don’t!” cried Margaret, raising herself up in an agony + of nervous terror. “Oh, where is papa? Will nobody ring the bell, and send + George for the police?” + </p> + <p> + “Police, police! Thieves! Murder! Robbers! Fire! All hands ahoy!” shouted + Harry, his hands making a trumpet over his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Harry, how can you?” said Ethel, hastily; “don’t you see that Margaret is + terribly frightened. Can’t you say at once that it was you?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” and Margaret sank back, as there was a general outcry of laughter + and wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Did you know it, Ethel?” asked Flora severely. + </p> + <p> + “I only guessed at this moment,” said Ethel. “How well you did it, Harry!” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said Flora, “I did think her dress very like Margaret’s shot silk. + I hope you did not do that any harm.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you manage?” said Ethel. “Where did your bonnet come from?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a new one of Adams’s wife. Mary got it for me. Come in, Polly, + they have found it out. Did you not hear her splitting with laughing + outside the window? I would not let her come in for fear she should spoil + all.” + </p> + <p> + “And I was just going to give her such a scolding for giggling in the + garden,” said Flora, “and to say we had been as bad as Miss Walkingham. + You should not have been so awkward, Harry; you nearly betrayed yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “He had nobody to teach him but Mary,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you should have seen me at my ease in Minster Street. No one + suspected me there.” + </p> + <p> + “In Minster Street. Oh, Harry, you don’t really mean it!” + </p> + <p> + “I do. That was what I did it for. I was resolved to know what the + nameless ones said of the Misses May.” + </p> + <p> + Hasty and eager inquiries broke out from Flora and Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dr. May was very clever, certainly, very clever. Had I seen the + daughters? I said I was going to call there, and they said—” + </p> + <p> + “What, oh, what, Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “They said Flora was thought pretty, but—and as to Ethel, now, how + do you think you came off, Unready?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me. They could not say the same of me, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite the reverse! They called Ethel very odd, poor girl.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t mind,” said Ethel. “They may say what they please of me; besides + that, I believe it is all Harry’s own invention.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, that is a libel on my invention!” exclaimed Harry. “If I had drawn + on that, could I not have told you something much droller?” + </p> + <p> + “And was that really all?” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “They said—let me see—that all our noses were too long, and, + that as to Flora’s being a beauty! when their brothers called her—so + droll of them—but Harvey called her a stuck-up duchess. In fact, it + was the fashion to make a great deal of those Mays.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope they said something of the sailor brother,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “No; I found if I stayed to hear much more, I should be knocking Ned down, + so I thought it time to take leave before he suspected.” + </p> + <p> + All this had passed very quickly, with much laughter, and numerous + interjections of amusement, and reprobation, or delight. So excited were + the young people, that they did not perceive a step on the gravel, till + Dr. May entered by the window, and stood among them. His first exclamation + was of consternation. “Margaret, my dear child, what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Only then did her brother and sisters perceive that Margaret was lying + back on her cushions, very pale, and panting for breath. She tried to + smile and say, “it was nothing,” and “she was silly,” but the words were + faint, from the palpitation of her heart. + </p> + <p> + “It was Harry’s trick,” said Flora indignantly, as she flew for the + scent-bottle, while her father bent over Margaret. “Harry dressed himself + up, and she was frightened.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no—no—he did not mean it,” gasped Margaret; “don’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry, I did not think you could be so cowardly and unfeeling!” and Dr. + May’s look was even more reproachful than his words. + </p> + <p> + Harry was dismayed at his sister’s condition, but the injustice of the + wholesale reproach chased away contrition. “I did nothing to frighten any + one,” he said moodily. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Harry, you know how you kept on,” said Flora, “and when you saw she + was frightened—” + </p> + <p> + “I can have no more of this,” said Dr. May, seeing that the discussion was + injuring Margaret more and more. “Go away to my study, sir, and wait till + I come to you. All of you out of the room. Flora, fetch the sal volatile.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you,” whispered Margaret. “Don’t be angry with Harry. It was—” + </p> + <p> + “Not now, not now, my dear. Lie quite still.” She obeyed, took the sal + volatile, and shut her eyes, while he sat leaning anxiously over, watching + her. Presently she opened them, and, looking up, said rather faintly, and + trying to smile, “I don’t think I can be better till you have heard the + rights of it. He did not mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “Boys never do mean it,” was the doctor’s answer. “I hoped better things + of Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “He had no intention—” began Margaret, but she still was unfit to + talk, and her father silenced her, by promising to go and hear the boy’s + own account. + </p> + <p> + In the hall, he was instantly beset by Ethel and Mary, the former + exclaiming, “Papa, you are quite mistaken! It was very foolish of Margaret + to be so frightened. He did nothing at all to frighten any one.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel’s mode of pleading was unfortunate; the “very foolish of Margaret” + were the very words to displease. + </p> + <p> + “Do not interfere!” said her father sternly. “You only encourage him in + his wanton mischief, and no one takes any heed how he torments my poor + Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” cried Harry, passionately bursting open the study door, + “tormenting Margaret was the last thing I would do!” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the way to speak, Harry. What have you been doing?” + </p> + <p> + With rapid agitated utterance, Harry made his confession. At another time + the doctor would have treated the matter as a joke carried too far, but + which, while it called for censure, was very amusing; but now the + explanation that the disguise had been assumed to impose on the Andersons, + only added to his displeasure. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to think you have a licence to play off any impertinent freaks + you please, without consideration for any one,” he said; “but I tell you + it is not so. As long as you are under my roof, you shall feel my + authority, and you shall spend the rest of the day in your room. I hope + quietness there will bring you to a better mind, but I am disappointed in + you. A boy who can choose such a time, and such subjects, for insolent, + unfeeling, practical jokes, cannot be in a fit state for Confirmation.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa! papa!” cried the two girls, in tones of entreaty—while + Harry, with a burning face and hasty step, dashed upstairs without a word. + </p> + <p> + “You have been as bad!” said Dr. May. “I say nothing to you, Mary, you + knew no better; but, to see you, Ethel, first encouraging him in his + impertinence, and terrifying Margaret so, that I dare say she may be a + week getting over it, and now defending him, and calling her silly, is + unbearable. I cannot trust one of you!” + </p> + <p> + “Only listen, papa!” + </p> + <p> + “I will have no altercation; I must go back to Margaret, since no one else + has the slightest consideration for her.” + </p> + <p> + An hour had passed away, when Richard knocked at Ethel’s door to tell her + that tea was ready. + </p> + <p> + “I have a great mind not to go down,” said Ethel, as he looked in, and saw + her seated with a book. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot bear to go down while poor Harry is so unjustly used.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Ethel!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot hush. Just because Margaret fancies robbers and murderers, and + all sorts of nonsense, as she always did, is poor Harry to be accused of + wantonly terrifying her, and shut up, and cut off from Confirmation? and + just when he is going away, too! It is unkind, and unjust, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, you will be sorry—” + </p> + <p> + “Papa will be sorry,” continued Ethel, disregarding the caution. “It is + very unfair, that I will say so. It was all nonsense of Margaret’s, but he + will always make everything give way to her. And poor Harry just going to + sea! No, Ritchie, I cannot come down; I cannot behave as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “You will grieve Margaret much more,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help that—she should not have made such a fuss.” + </p> + <p> + Richard was somewhat in difficulties how to answer, but at that moment + Harry’s door, which was next, was slightly opened, and his voice said, “Go + down, Ethel. The captain may punish any one he pleases, and it is mutiny + in the rest of the crew to take his part.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry is in the right,” said Richard. “It is our duty not to question our + father’s judgments. It would be wrong of you to stay up.” + </p> + <p> + “Wrong?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Of course. It would be against the articles of war,” said Harry, opening + his door another inch. “But, Ritchie, I say, do tell me whether it has + hurt Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “She is better now,” said Richard, “but she has a headache, chiefly, I + believe, from distress at having brought this on you. She is very sorry + for her fright.” + </p> + <p> + “I had not the least intention of frightening the most fearsome little + tender mouse on earth,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “And at another time it would not have signified,” said Richard; “but, you + know, Margaret always was timid, and now, the not being able to move, and + the being out of health, has made her nerves weak, so that she cannot help + it.” + </p> + <p> + “The fault was in our never heeding her when we were so eager to hear + Harry’s story,” said Ethel. “That was what made the palpitation so bad. + But, now papa knows all, does he not understand about Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “He was obliged to go out as soon as Margaret was better,” said Richard, + “and was scarcely come in when I came up.” + </p> + <p> + “Go down, Ethel,” repeated Harry. “Never mind me. Norman told me that sort + of joke never answered, and I might have minded him.” + </p> + <p> + The voice was very much troubled, and it brought back that burning + sensation of indignant tears to Ethel’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Harry! you did not deserve to be so punished for it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what you are not to say,” returned Harry. “I ought not to have + played the trick, and—and just now too—but I always forget + things—” + </p> + <p> + The door shut, and they fancied they heard sobs. Ethel groaned, but made + no opposition to following her brother down to tea. Margaret lay, wan and + exhausted, on the sofa—the doctor looked very melancholy and rather + stern, and the others were silent. Ethel had begun to hope for the warm + reaction she had so often known after a hasty fit, but it did not readily + come; Harry was boy instead of girl—the fault and its consequence + had been more serious—and the anxiety for the future was greater. + Besides, he had not fully heard the story; Harry, in his incoherent + narration, had not excused himself, and Margaret’s panic had appeared more + as if inspired by him, than, as it was, in fact, the work of her fancy. + </p> + <p> + Thus the evening passed gloomily away, and it was not till the others had + said good-night that Dr. May began to talk over the affair with his eldest + son, who then was able to lay before him the facts of the case, as + gathered from his sisters. He listened with a manner as though it were a + reproof, and then said sadly, “I am afraid I was in a passion.” + </p> + <p> + “It was very wrong in Harry,” said Richard, “and particularly unlucky it + should happen with the Andersons.” + </p> + <p> + “Very thoughtless,” said the doctor, “no more, even as regarded Margaret; + but thoughtlessness should not have been treated as a crime.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish we could see him otherwise,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “He wants—” and there Dr. May stopped short, and, taking up his + candle, slowly mounted the stairs, and looked into Harry’s room. The boy + was in bed, but started up on hearing his father’s step, and exclaimed, + “Papa, I am very sorry! Is Margaret better?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is; and I understand now, Harry, that her alarm was an accident. + I beg your pardon for thinking for a moment that it was otherwise—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” interrupted Harry, “of course I could never mean to frighten her; + but I did not leave off the moment I saw she was afraid, because it was so + very ridiculous, and I did not guess it would hurt her.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, my honest boy. I do not blame you, for you did not know how much + harm a little terror does to a person in her helpless state. But, indeed, + Harry, though you did not deserve such anger as mine was, it is a serious + thing that you should be so much set on fun and frolic as to forget all + considerations, especially at such a time as this. It takes away from much + of my comfort in sending you into the world; and for higher things—how + can I believe you really impressed and reverent, if the next minute—” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not fit! I’m not fit!” sobbed Harry, hiding his face. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I hardly know whether it is not so,” said the doctor. “You are + under the usual age, and, though I know you wish to be a good boy, yet I + don’t feel sure that these wild spirits do not carry away everything + serious, and whether it is right to bring one so thoughtless to—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” and Harry cried bitterly, and his father was deeply grieved; but + no more could then be said, and they parted for the night—Dr. May + saying, as he went away, “You understand, that it is not as punishment for + your trick, if I do not take you to Mr. Ramsden for a ticket, but that I + cannot be certain whether it is right to bring you to such solemn + privileges while you do not seem to me to retain steadily any grave or + deep feelings. Perhaps your mother would have better helped you.” + </p> + <p> + And Dr. May went away to mourn over what he viewed as far greater sins + than those of his son. + </p> + <p> + Anger had, indeed, given place to sorrow, and all were grave the next + morning, as if each had something to be forgiven. + </p> + <p> + Margaret, especially, felt guilty of the fears which, perhaps, had not + been sufficiently combated in her days of health, and now were beyond + control, and had occasioned so much pain. Ethel grieved over the words she + had yesterday spoken in haste of her father and sister; Mary knew herself + to have been an accomplice in the joke; and Norman blamed himself for not + having taken the trouble to perceive that Harry had not been talking + rhodomontade, when he had communicated “his capital scheme” the previous + morning. + </p> + <p> + The decision as to the Confirmation was a great grief to all. Flora + consoled herself by observing that, as he was so young, no one need know + it, nor miss him; and Ethel, with a trembling, almost sobbing voice, + enumerated all Harry’s excellences, his perfect truth, his kindness, his + generosity, his flashes of intense feeling—declared that nobody + might be confirmed if he were not, and begged and entreated that Mr. + Wilmot might be written to, and consulted. She would almost have done so + herself, if Richard had not shown her it would be undutiful. + </p> + <p> + Harry himself was really subdued. He made no question as to the propriety + of the decision, but rather felt his own unworthiness, and was completely + humbled and downcast. When a note came from Mrs. Anderson, saying that she + was convinced that it could not have been Dr. May’s wish that she should + be exposed to the indignity of a practical joke, and that a young lady of + the highest family should have been insulted, no one had spirits to laugh + at the terms; and when Dr. May said, “What is to be done?” Harry turned + crimson, and was evidently trying to utter something. + </p> + <p> + “I see nothing for it but for him to ask their pardon,” said Dr. May; and + a sound was heard, not very articulate, but expressing full assent. + </p> + <p> + “That is right,” said the doctor. “I’ll come with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you!” cried Harry, looking up. + </p> + <p> + They set off at once. Mrs. Anderson was neither an unpleasing nor unkind + person—her chief defect being a blind admiration of her sons and + daughters, which gave her, in speaking of them, a tone of pretension that + she would never have shown on her own account. + </p> + <p> + Her displeasure was pacified in a moment by the sight of the confused + contrition of the culprit, coupled with his father’s frank and kindly tone + of avowal, that it had been a foolish improper frolic, and that he had + been much displeased with him for it. + </p> + <p> + “Say no more—pray, say no more, Dr. May. We all know how to overlook + a sailor’s frolic, and, I am sure, Master Harry’s present behaviour; but + you’ll take a bit of luncheon,” and, as something was said of going home + to the early dinner, “I am sure you will wait one minute. Master Harry + must have a piece of my cake, and allow me to drink to his success.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Mr. May! to be called Master Harry, and treated to sweet cake! But he + saw his father thought he ought to endure, and he even said, “Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + The cake stuck in his throat, however, when Mrs. Anderson and her + daughters opened their full course of praise on their dear Harvey and + dearest Edward, telling all the flattering things Dr. Hoxton had said of + the order into which Harvey had brought the school, and insisting on Dr. + May’s reading the copy of the testimonial that he had carried to Oxford. + “I knew you would be kind enough to rejoice,” said Mrs. Anderson, “and + that you would have no—no feeling about Mr. Norman; for, of course, + at his age, a little matter is nothing, and it must be better for the dear + boy himself to be a little while under a friend like Harvey, than to have + authority while so young.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it has done him no harm,” was all that the doctor could bring + himself to say; and thinking that he and his son had endured quite enough, + he took his leave as soon as Harry had convulsively bolted the last + mouthful. + </p> + <p> + Not a word was spoken all the way home. Harry’s own trouble had + overpowered even this subject of resentment. On Sunday, the notice of the + Confirmation was read. It was to take place on the following Thursday, and + all those who had already given in their names were to come to Mr. Ramsden + to apply for their tickets. While this was read, large tear-drops were + silently falling on poor Harry’s book. + </p> + <p> + Ethel and Norman walked together in the twilight, in deep lamentation over + their brother’s deprivation, which seemed especially to humble them; + “for,” said Norman, “I am sure no one can be more resolved on doing right + than July, and he has got through school better than I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel; “if we don’t get into his sort of scrape, it is only + that we are older, not better. I am sure mine are worse, my letting Aubrey + be nearly burned—my neglects.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa must be doing right,” said Norman, “but for July to be turned back + when we are taken, makes me think of man judging only by outward + appearance.” + </p> + <p> + “A few outrageous-looking acts of giddiness that are so much grieved over, + may not be half so bad as the hundreds of wandering thoughts that one + forgets, because no one else can see them!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Harry and Mary were sitting twisted together into a sort of + bundle, on the same footstool, by Margaret’s sofa. Harry had begged of her + to hear him say the Catechism once more, and Mary had joined with him in + the repetition. There was to be only one more Sunday at home. “And that!” + he said, and sighed. + </p> + <p> + Margaret knew what he meant, for the Feast was to be spread for those + newly admitted to share it. She only said a caressing word of affection. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder when I shall have another chance,” said Harry. “If we should get + to Australia, or New Zealand—but then, perhaps, there would be no + Confirmation going on, and I might be worse by that time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you must not let that be!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you see, if I can’t be good here, with all this going on, what shall + I do among those fellows, away from all?” + </p> + <p> + “You will have one friend!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ernescliffe! You are always thinking of him, Margaret; but perhaps he + may not go, and if he should, a lieutenant cannot do much for a + midshipman. No, I thought, when I was reading with my father, that somehow + it might help me to do what it called putting away childish things—don’t + you know? I might be able to be stronger and steadier, somehow. And then, + if—if—you know, if I did tumble overboard, or anything of that + sort, there is that about the—what they will go to next Sunday, + being necessary to salvation.” + </p> + <p> + Harry laid down his head and cried; Margaret could not speak for tears; + and Mary was incoherently protesting against any notion of his falling + overboard. + </p> + <p> + “It is generally necessary, Harry,” Margaret said at last—“not in + impossible cases.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes if it had been impossible, but it was not; if I had not been a mad + goose all this time, but when a bit of fun gets hold of me, I can’t think. + And if I am too bad for that, I am too bad for—for—and I shall + never see mamma again! Margaret, it almost makes me af—afraid to + sail.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry, don’t, don’t talk so!” sobbed Mary. “Oh, do come to papa, and let + us beg and pray. Take hold of my hand, and Margaret will beg too, and when + he sees how sorry you are, I am sure he will forgive, and let you be + confirmed.” She would have dragged him after her. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mary,” said Harry, resisting her. “It is not that he does not + forgive. You don’t understand. It is what is right. And he cannot help it, + or make it right for me, if I am such a horrid wretch that I can’t keep + grave thoughts in my head. I might do it again after that, just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been grave enough of late,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “This was enough to make me so,” said Harry; “but even at church, since I + came home, I have behaved ill! I kicked Tom, to make him look at old + Levitt asleep, and then I went on, because he did not like it. I know I am + too idle.” + </p> + <p> + On the Tuesday, Dr. May had said he would take Norman and Etheldred to Mr. + Ramsden. Ethel was gravely putting on her walking dress, when she heard + her father’s voice calling Harry, and she started with a joyful hope. + </p> + <p> + There, indeed, when she came downstairs, stood Harry, his cap in his hand, + and his face serious, but with a look on it that had as much subdued joy + as awe. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear Harry! you are going with us then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa wrote to ask what Mr. Wilmot thought, and he said—” + </p> + <p> + Harry broke off as his father advanced, and gave her the letter itself to + read. Mr. Wilmot answered that he certainly should not refuse such a boy + as Harry, on the proof of such entire penitence and deep feeling. Whether + to bring him to the further privilege might be another question; but, as + far as the Confirmation was concerned, the opinion was decided. + </p> + <p> + Norman and Ethel were too happy for words, as they went arm in arm along + the street, leaving their dear sailor to be leaned on by his father. + </p> + <p> + Harry’s sadness was gone, but he still was guarded and gentle during the + few days that followed; he seemed to have learned thought, and in his + gratitude for the privileges he had so nearly missed, to rate them more + highly than he might otherwise have done. Indeed, the doubt for the Sunday + gave him a sense of probation. + </p> + <p> + The Confirmation day came. Mr. Rivers had asked that his daughter might be + with Miss May, and Ethel had therefore to be called for in the Abbotstoke + carriage, quite contrary to her wishes, as she had set her heart on the + walk to church with her father and brothers. Flora would not come, for + fear of crowding Mr. Rivers, who, with Mrs. Larpent, accompanied his + darling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret,” said Flora, after putting her sister into the carriage, “I + wish we had put Ethel into a veil! There is Meta all white from head to + foot, with such a veil! and Ethel, in her little white cap, looks as if + she might be Lucy Taylor, only not so pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma thought the best rule was to take the dress that needs least + attention from ourselves, and will be least noticed,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “There is Fanny Anderson gone by in the fly with a white veil on!” cried + Mary, dashing in. + </p> + <p> + “Then I am glad Ethel has not one,” said Flora. Margaret looked annoyed, + but she had not found the means of checking Flora without giving offence; + and she could only call Mary and Blanche to order, beg them to think of + what the others were doing, and offer to read to them a little tale on + Confirmation. + </p> + <p> + Flora sat and worked, and Margaret, stealing a glance at her, understood + that, in her quiet way, she resented the implied reproof. “Making the + children think me worldly and frivolous!” she thought; “as if Margaret did + not know that I think and feel as much as any reasonable person!” + </p> + <p> + The party came home in due time, and after one kiss to Margaret, given in + silence, dispersed, for they could not yet talk of what had passed. + </p> + <p> + Only Ethel, as she met Richard on the stairs, said, “Ritchie, do you know + what the bishop’s text was? ‘No man having put his hand to the plough, and + looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” said Richard interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it might be a voice to me,” said Ethel; “besides what it says + to all, about our Christian course. It seems to tell me not to be out of + heart about all those vexations at Cocksmoor. Is it not a sort of putting + our hand to the plough?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May gave his own history of the Confirmation to Margaret. “It was a + beautiful thing to watch,” he said, “the faces of our own set. Those four + were really like a poem. There was little Meta in her snowy whiteness, + looking like innocence itself, hardly knowing of evil, or pain, or + struggle, as that soft earnest voice made her vow to be ready for it all, + almost as unscathed and unconscious of trial, as when they made it for her + at her baptism; pretty little thing—may she long be as happy. And + for our own Ethel, she looked as if she was promising on and on, straight + into eternity. I heard her ‘I do,’ dear child, and it was in such a tone + as if she meant to be ever doing.” + </p> + <p> + “And for the boys?” + </p> + <p> + “There was Norman grave and steadfast, as if he knew what he was about, + and was manfully and calmly ready—he might have been a young knight, + watching his armour.” + </p> + <p> + “And so he is,” said Margaret softly. “And poor Harry?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor could hardly command voice to tell her. “Poor Harry, he was + last of all, he turned his back and looked into the corner of the seat, + till all the voices had spoken, and then turned about in haste, and the + two words came on the end of a sob.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not keep him away on Sunday?” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Far be it from me. I know not who should come, if he should not.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What matter, whether through delight, + Or led through vale of tears, + Or seen at once, or hid from sight, + The glorious way appears? + If step by step the path we see, + That leads, my Saviour, up to Thee! +</pre> + <p> + “I could not help it,” said Dr. May; “that little witch—” + </p> + <p> + “Meta Rivers? Oh! what, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems that Wednesday is her birthday, and nothing will serve her but + to eat her dinner in the old Roman camp.” + </p> + <p> + “And are we to go? Oh, which of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Every one of anything like rational years. Blanche is especially + invited.” + </p> + <p> + There were transports till it was recollected that on Thursday morning + school would recommence, and that on Friday Harry must join his ship. + </p> + <p> + However, the Roman camp had long been an object of their desires, and + Margaret was glad that the last day should have a brilliancy, so she would + not hear of any one remaining to keep her company, talked of the profit + she should gain by a leisure day, and took ardent interest in every one’s + preparations and expectations, in Ethel’s researches into county histories + and classical dictionaries, Flora’s sketching intentions, Norman’s + promises of campanula glomerata, and a secret whispered into her ear by + Mary and Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Meta’s weather,” as they said, when the August sun rose fresh and joyous; + and great was the unnecessary bustle, and happy confusion from six o’clock + till eleven, when Dr. May, who was going to visit patients some way + farther on the same road, carried off Harry and Mary, to set them down at + the place. + </p> + <p> + The rest were called for by Mr. Rivers’s carriage and brake. Mrs. Charles + Wilmot and her little girl were the only additions to the party, and Meta, + putting Blanche into the carriage to keep company with her contemporary, + went herself in the brake. What a brilliant little fairy she was, in her + pink summer robes, fluttering like a butterfly, and with the same apparent + felicity in basking in joy, all gaiety, glee, and light-heartedness in + making others happy. On they went, through honeysuckled lanes, catching + glimpses of sunny fields of corn falling before the reaper, and happy + knots of harvest folks dining beneath the shelter of their sheaves, with + the sturdy old green umbrella sheltering them from the sun. + </p> + <p> + Snatches of song, peals of laughter, merry nonsense, passed from one to + the other; Norman, roused into blitheness, found wit, the young ladies + found laughter, and Richard’s eyes and mouth looked very pretty, as they + smiled their quiet diversion. + </p> + <p> + At last, his face drawn all into one silent laugh, he directed the eyes of + the rest to a high green mound, rising immediately before them, where + stood two little figures, one with a spy-glass, intently gazing the + opposite way. + </p> + <p> + At the same time came the halt, and Norman, bounding out, sprang lightly + and nimbly up the side of the mound, and, while the spy-glass was yet + pointed full at Wales, had hold of a pair of stout legs, and with the + words, “Keep a good lockout!” had tumbled Mr. May headforemost down the + grassy slope, with Mary rolling after. + </p> + <p> + Harry’s first outcry was for his precious glass—his second was, not + at his fall, but that they should have come from the east, when, by the + compass, Stoneborough was north-north-west. And then the boys took to + tumbling over one another, while Meta frolicked joyously, with Nipen after + her, up and down the mounds, chased by Mary and Blanche, who were wild + with glee. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by she joined Ethel, and Norman was summoned to help them to trace + out the old lines of encampment, ditch, rampart, and gates—happy + work on those slopes of fresh turf, embroidered with every minute blossom + of the moor—thyme, birdsfoot, eyebright, and dwarf purple thistle, + buzzed and hummed over by busy, black-tailed, yellow-banded dumbledores, + the breezy wind blowing softly in their faces, and the expanse of country—wooded + hill, verdant pasture, amber harvest-field, winding river, smoke-canopied + town, and brown moor, melting grayly away to the mountain heads. + </p> + <p> + Now in sun, now in shade, the bright young antiquaries surveyed the old + banks, and talked wisely of vallum and fossa, of legion and cohort, of + Agricola and Suetonius, and discussed the delightful probability, that + this might have been raised in the war with Caractacus, whence, argued + Ethel, since Caractacus was certainly Arviragus, it must have been the + very spot where Imogen met Posthumus again. Was not yonder the very + high-road to Milford Haven, and thus must not “fair Fidele’s grassy tomb” + be in the immediate neighbourhood? + </p> + <p> + Then followed the suggestion that the mound in the middle was a good deal + like an ancient tomb, where, as Blanche interposed with some of the lore + lately caught from Ethel’s studies, “they used to bury their tears in + wheelbarrows,” while Norman observed it was the more probable, as fair + Fidele never was buried at all. + </p> + <p> + The idea of a search enchanted the young ladies. “It was the right sort of + vehicle, evidently,” said Norman, looking at Harry, who had been + particularly earnest in recommending that it should be explored; and Meta + declared that if they could but find the least trace, her papa would be + delighted to go regularly to work, and reveal all the treasures. + </p> + <p> + Richard seemed a little afraid of the responsibility of treasure-trove, + but he was overruled by a chorus of eager voices, and dispossessed of the + trowel, which he had brought to dig up some down-gentians for the garden. + While Norman set to work as pioneer, some skipped about in wild ecstasy, + and Ethel knelt down to peer into the hole. + </p> + <p> + Very soon there was a discovery—an eager outcry—some pottery! + Roman vessels—a red thing that might have been a lamp, another that + might have been a lachrymatory. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Ethel, “you know, Norman, I always told you that the + children’s pots and pans in the clay ditch were very like Roman pottery.” + </p> + <p> + “Posthumus’s patty pan!” said Norman, holding it up. “No doubt this was + the bottle filled with the old queen’s tears when Cloten was killed.” + </p> + <p> + “You see it is very small,” added Harry; “she could not squeeze out many.” + </p> + <p> + “Come now, I do believe you are laughing at it!” said Meta, taking the + derided vessels into her hands. “Now, they really are genuine, and very + curious things, are not they, Flora?” + </p> + <p> + Flora and Ethel admired and speculated till there was a fresh, and still + more exciting discovery—a coin, actually a medal, with the head of + an emperor upon it—not a doubt of his high nose being Roman. Meta + was certain that she knew one exactly like him among her father’s gems. + Ethel was resolved that he should be Claudius, and began decyphering the + defaced inscription THVRVS. She tried Claudius’s whole torrent of names, + and, at last, made it into a contraction of Tiberius, which highly + satisfied her. + </p> + <p> + Then Meta, in her turn, read D.V.X., which, as Ethel said, was all she + could wish—of course it was dux et imperator, and Harry muttered + into Norman’s ear, “ducks and geese!” and then heaved a sigh, as he + thought of the dux no longer. “V.V.,” continued Meta; “what can that + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Five, five, of course,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “No, no! I have it, Venus Victrix” said Ethel, “the ancestral Venus! Ha! + don’t you see? there she is on the other side, crowning Claudius.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is an E.” + </p> + <p> + “Something about Aeneas,” suggested Norman gravely. But Ethel was sure + that could not be, because there was no diphthong; and a fresh theory was + just being started, when Blanche’s head was thrust in to know what made + them all so busy. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Ethel, what are you doing with Harry’s old medal of the Duke of + Wellington?” + </p> + <p> + Poor Meta and Ethel, what a downfall! Meta was sure that Norman had known + it the whole time, and he owned to having guessed it from Harry’s + importunity for the search. Harry and Mary had certainly made good use of + their time, and great was the mirth over the trap so cleverly set—the + more when it was disclosed that Dr. May had been a full participator in + the scheme, had suggested the addition of the pottery, had helped Harry to + some liquid to efface part of the inscription, and had even come up with + them to plant the snare in the most plausible corner for researches. + </p> + <p> + Meta, enchanted with the joke, flew off to try to take in her governess + and Mrs. Wilmot, whom she found completing their leisurely promenade, and + considering where they should spread the dinner. + </p> + <p> + The sight of those great baskets of good fare was appetising, and the + company soon collected on the shady turf, where Richard made himself + extremely useful, and the feast was spread without any worse mishap than + Nipen’s running away with half a chicken, of which he was robbed, as Tom + reported, by a surly-looking dog that watched in the outskirts of the + camp, and caused Tom to return nearly as fast as the poor little white + marauder. + </p> + <p> + Meta “very immorally,” as Norman told her, comforted Nipen with a large + share of her sandwiches. Harry armed himself with a stick and Mary with a + stone, and marched off to the attack, but saw no signs of the enemy, and + had begun to believe him a figment of Tom’s imagination, when Mary spied + him under a bush, lying at the feet of a boy, with whom he was sharing the + spoil. + </p> + <p> + Harry called out rather roughly, “Hallo! what are you doing there?” + </p> + <p> + The boy jumped up, the dog growled, Mary shrank behind her brother, and + begged him not to be cross to the poor boy, but to come away. Harry + repeated his question. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, Toby brought it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What, is Toby your dog?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you so hungry as to eat dog’s meat?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not had nothing before to-day, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, where do you live? hereabouts?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir; I lived with grandmother up in Cheshire, but she is dead + now, and father is just come home from sea, and he wrote down I was to be + sent to him at Portsmouth, to go to sea with him.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you live? do you beg your way?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; father sent up a pound in a letter, only Nanny Brooks said I + owed some to her for my victuals, and I have not much of it left, and + bread comes dear, so when Toby brought me this bit of meat I was glad of + it, sir, but I would not have taken it—” + </p> + <p> + The boy was desired to wait while the brother and sister, in breathless + excitement, rushed back with their story. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wilmot was at first inclined to fear that the naval part of it had + been inspired by Harry’s uniform, but the examination of Jem Jennings put + it beyond a doubt that he spoke nothing but the truth; and the choicest + delight of the feast was the establishing him and Toby behind the barrow, + and feeding them with such viands as they had probably never seen before. + </p> + <p> + The boy could not read writing, but he had his father’s letter in his + pocket, and Mary capered at the delightful coincidence, on finding that + Jem Jennings was actually a quarter-master on board the Alcestis. It gave + a sort of property in the boy, and she almost grudged Meta the having been + first to say that she would pay for the rest of his journey, instead of + doing it by subscription. + </p> + <p> + However, Mary had a consolation, she would offer to take charge of Toby, + who, as Harry observed, would otherwise have been drowned—he could + not be taken on board. To be sure, he was a particularly ugly animal, + rough, grisly, short-legged, long-backed, and with an apology for a tail—but + he had a redeeming pair of eyes, and he and Jem lived on terms of such + close friendship, that he would have been miserable in leaving him to the + mercy of Nanny Brooks. + </p> + <p> + So, after their meal, Jem and Toby were bidden to wait for Dr. May’s + coming, and fell asleep together on the green bank, while the rest either + sketched, or wandered, or botanised. Flora acted the grown-up lady with + Mrs. Wilmot, and Meta found herself sitting by Ethel, asking her a great + many questions about Margaret, and her home, and what it could be like to + be one of such a numerous family. Flora had always turned aside from + personal matters, as uninteresting to her companion, and, in spite of + Meta’s admiration, and the mutual wish to be intimate, confidence did not + spring up spontaneously, as it had done with the doctor, and, in that + single hour, with Margaret. Blunt as Ethel was, her heartiness of manner + gave a sense of real progress in friendship. Their Confirmation vows + seemed to make a link, and Meta’s unfeigned enthusiasm for the doctor was + the sure road to Ethel’s heart. She was soon telling how glad Margaret was + that he had been drawn into taking pleasure in to-day’s scheme, since, not + only were his spirits tried by the approach of Harry’s departure, but he + had, within the last few days, been made very sad by reading and answering + Aunt Flora’s first letter on the news of last October’s misfortune. + </p> + <p> + “My aunt in New Zealand,” explained Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Have you an aunt in New Zealand?” cried Meta. “I never heard of her!” + </p> + <p> + “Did not you? Oh! she does write such charming long letters!” + </p> + <p> + “Is she Dr. May’s sister?” + </p> + <p> + “No; he was an only child. She is dear mamma’s sister. I don’t remember + her, for she went out when I was a baby, but Richard and Margaret were so + fond of her. They say she used to play with them, and tell them stories, + and sing Scotch songs to them. Margaret says the first sorrow of her life + was Aunt Flora’s going away.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she live with them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; after grandpapa died, she came to live with them, but then Mr. + Arnott came about. I ought not to speak evil of him, for he is my + godfather, but we do wish he had not carried off Aunt Flora! That letter + of hers showed me what a comfort it would be to papa to have her here.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she will come.” + </p> + <p> + “No; Uncle Arnott has too much to do. It was a pretty story altogether. He + was an officer at Edinburgh, and fell in love with Aunt Flora, but my + grandfather Mackenzie thought him too poor to marry her, and it was all + broken off, and they tried to think no more of it. But grandpapa died, and + she came to live here, and somehow Mr. Arnott turned up again, quartered + at Whitford, and papa talked over my Uncle Mackenzie, and helped them—and + Mr. Arnott thought the best way would be to go out to the colonies. They + went when New Zealand was very new, and a very funny life they had! Once + they had their house burned in Heki’s rebellion—and Aunt Flora saw a + Maori walking about in her best Sunday bonnet; but, in general, everything + has gone on very well, and he has a great farm, besides an office under + government.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so he went out as a settler! I was in hopes it was as a missionary.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy Aunt Flora has done a good deal that may be called missionary + work,” said Ethel, “teaching the Maori women and girls. They call her + mother, and she has quite a doctor’s shop for them, and tries hard to + teach them to take proper care of their poor little children when they are + ill; and she cuts out clothes for the whole pah, that is, the village.” + </p> + <p> + “And are they Christians?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! to be sure they are now! They meet in the pah for prayers every + morning and evening—they used to have a hoe struck against a bit of + metal for a signal, and when papa heard of it, he gave them a bell, and + they were so delighted. Now there comes a clergyman every fourth Sunday, + and, on the others, Uncle Arnott reads part of the service to the English + near, and the Maori teacher to his people.” + </p> + <p> + Meta asked ravenously for more details, and when she had pretty well + exhausted Ethel’s stock, she said, “How nice it must be! Ethel, did you + ever read the ‘Faithful Little Girl?’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it was one of Margaret’s old Sunday books. I often recollected it + before I was allowed to begin Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I am very like Lucilla!” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “What? In wishing to be a boy, that you might be a missionary?” said + Ethel. “Not in being quite so cross at home?” she added, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “I am not cross, because I have no opportunity,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “No opportunity. Oh, Meta, if people wish to be cross, it is easy enough + to find grounds for it. There is always the moon to cry for.” + </p> + <p> + “Really and truly,” said Meta thoughtfully, “I never do meet with any + reasonable trial of temper, and I am often afraid it cannot be right or + safe to live so entirely at ease, and without contradictions.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but,” said Ethel, “it is the state of life in which you are + placed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but are we meant never to have vexations?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you had them,” said Ethel. “Margaret told me about your maid. + That would have worried some people, and made them horridly cross.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no rational person,” cried Meta. “It was so nice to think of her + being with the poor mother, and I was quite interested in managing for + myself; besides, you know, it was just a proof how one learns to be + selfish, that it had never occurred to me that I ought to spare her.” + </p> + <p> + “And your school children—you were in some trouble about them?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you had a class you did not like?” + </p> + <p> + “I like them now—they are such steady plodding girls, so much in + earnest, and one, that has been neglected, is so pleased and touched by + kindness. I would not give them up for anything now—they are just + fit for my capacity.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that nothing ever goes wrong with you, or that you do not + mind anything—which?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing goes wrong enough with me to give me a handsome excuse for + minding it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it must be all your good temper.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so,” said Meta; “it is that nothing is ever disagreeable to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay,” said Ethel, “if the ill-temper was in you, you would only be the + crosser for being indulged—at least, so books say. And I am sure + myself that it is not whether things are disagreeable or not, but whether + one’s will is with them, that signifies.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t quite understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—I have seen the boys do for play, and done myself, what would + have been a horrid hardship if one had been made to do it. I never liked + any lessons as well as those I did without being obliged, and always, when + there is a thing I hate very much in itself, I can get up an interest in + it, by resolving that I will do it well, or fast, or something—if I + can stick my will to it, it is like a lever, and it is done. Now, I think + it must be the same with you, only your will is more easily set at it than + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes me uncomfortable is, that I feel as if I never followed + anything but my will.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel screwed up her face, as if the eyes of her mind were pursuing some + thought almost beyond her. “If our will and our duty run the same,” she + said, “that can’t be wrong. The better people are, the more they ‘love + what He commands,’ you know. In heaven they have no will but His.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but Ethel,” cried Meta, distressed, “that is putting it too high. + Won’t you understand what I mean? We have learned so much lately about + self-denial, and crossing one’s own inclinations, and enduring hardness. + And here I live with two dear kind people, who only try to keep every + little annoyance from my path. I can’t wish for a thing without getting it—I + am waited on all day long, and I feel like one of the women that are at + ease—one of the careless daughters.” + </p> + <p> + “I think still papa would say it was your happy contented temper that made + you find no vexation.” + </p> + <p> + “But that sort of temper is not goodness. I was born with it; I never did + mind anything, not even being punished, they say, unless I knew papa was + grieved, which always did make me unhappy enough. I laughed, and went to + play most saucily, whatever they did to me. If I had striven for the + temper, it would be worth having, but it is my nature. And Ethel,” she + added, in a low voice, as the tears came into her eyes, “don’t you + remember last Sunday? I felt myself so vain and petted a thing! as if I + had no share in the Cup of suffering, and did not deserve to call myself a + member—it seemed ungrateful.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel felt ashamed, as she heard of warmer feelings than her own had been, + expressed in that lowered trembling voice, and she sought for the answer + that would only come to her mind in sense, not at first in words. + “Discipline,” said she, “would not that show the willingness to have the + part? Taking the right times for refusing oneself some pleasant thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Would not that be only making up something for oneself?” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “No, the Church orders it. It is in the Prayer-book,” said Ethel. “I mean + one can do little secret things—not read storybooks on those days, + or keep some tiresome sort of work for them. It is very trumpery, but it + keeps the remembrance, and it is not so much as if one did not heed.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll think,” said Meta, sighing. “If only I felt myself at work, not to + please myself, but to be of use. Ha!” she cried, springing up, “I do + believe I see Dr. May coming!” + </p> + <p> + “Let us run and meet him,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + They did so, and he called out his wishes of many happy returns of blithe + days to the little birthday queen, then added, “You both look grave, + though—have they deserted you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, papa, we have been having a talk,” said Ethel. “May I tell him, Meta? + I want to know what he says.” + </p> + <p> + Meta had not bargained for this, but she was very much in earnest, and + there was nothing formidable in Dr. May, so she assented. + </p> + <p> + “Meta is longing to be at work—she thinks she is of no use,” said + Ethel; “she says she never does anything but please herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Pleasing oneself is not the same as trying to please oneself,” said Dr. + May kindly. + </p> + <p> + “And she thinks it cannot be safe or right,” added Ethel, “to live that + happy bright life, as if people without care or trouble could not be + living as Christians are meant to live. Is that it, Meta?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think it is,” said Meta. “I seem to be only put here to be made + much of!” + </p> + <p> + “What did David say, Meta?” returned Dr. May. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My Shepherd is the living Lord, + Nothing therefore I need; + In pastures fair, near pleasant streams, + He setteth me to feed.” + </pre> + <p> + “Then you think,” said Meta, much touched, “that I ought to look on this + as ‘the pastures fair,’ and be thankful. I hope I was not unthankful.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Ethel. “It was the wish to bear hardness, and be a good + soldier, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my dear,” he said, “the rugged path and dark valley will come in His + own fit time. Depend upon it, the good Shepherd is giving you what is best + for you in the green meadow, and if you lay hold on His rod and staff in + your sunny days—” He stopped short, and turned to his daughter. + “Ethel, they sang that psalm the first Sunday I brought your mamma home!” + </p> + <p> + Meta was much affected, and began to put together what the father and + daughter had said. Perhaps the little modes of secret discipline, of which + Ethel had spoken, might be the true means of clasping the staff—perhaps + she had been impatient, and wanting in humility in craving for the strife, + when her armour was scarce put on. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May spoke once again. “Don’t let any one long for external trial. The + offering of a free heart is the thing. To offer praise is the great object + of all creatures in heaven and earth. If the happier we are, the more we + praise, then all is well.” + </p> + <p> + But the serious discussion was suddenly broken off. + </p> + <p> + Others had seen Dr. May’s approach, and Harry and Mary rushed down in + dismay at their story having, as they thought, been forestalled. However, + they had it all to themselves, and the doctor took up the subject as + keenly as could have been hoped, but the poor boy being still fast asleep, + after, probably, much fatigue, he would not then waken him to examine him, + but came and sat down in the semicircle, formed by a terraced bank of soft + turf, where Mrs. Larpent, Mrs. Wilmot, Richard, and Flora, had for some + time taken up their abode. Meta brought him the choice little basket of + fruit which she had saved for him, and all delighted in having him there, + evidently enjoying the rest and sport very much, as he reposed on the + fragrant slope, eating grapes, and making inquiries as to the antiquities + lately discovered. + </p> + <p> + Norman gave an exceedingly droll account of the great Roman Emperor, + Tiberius V.V., and Meta correcting it, there was a regular gay skirmish of + words, which entertained every one extremely—above all, Meta’s + indignation when the charge was brought home to her of having declared the + “old Duke” exactly like in turns to Domitian and Tiberius—his + features quite forbidding. + </p> + <p> + This lasted till the younger ones, who had been playing and rioting till + they were tired, came up, and throwing themselves down on the grass, + Blanche petitioned for something that every one could play at. + </p> + <p> + Meta proposed what she called the story play. One was to be sent out of + earshot, and the rest to agree upon a word, which was then to be guessed + by each telling a story, and introducing the word into it, not too + prominently. Meta volunteered to guess, and Harry whispered to Mary it + would be no go, but, in the meantime, the word was found, and Blanche + eagerly recalled Meta, and sat in the utmost expectation and delight. Meta + turned first to Richard, but he coloured distressfully, and begged that + Flora might tell his story for him—he should only spoil the game. + Flora, with a little tinge of graceful reluctance, obeyed. “No woman had + been to the summit of Mont Blanc,” she said, “till one young girl, named + Marie, resolved to have this glory. The guides told her it was madness, + but she persevered. She took the staff, and everything requisite, and, + following a party, began the ascent. She bravely supported every fatigue, + climbed each precipice, was undaunted by the giddy heights she attained, + bravely crossed the fields of snow, supported the bitter cold, and + finally, though suffering severely, arrived at the topmost peak, looked + forth where woman had never looked before, felt her heart swell at the + attainment of her utmost ambition, and the name of Marie was inscribed as + that of the woman who alone has had the glory of standing on the summit of + the Giant of the Alps.” + </p> + <p> + It was prettily enunciated, and had a pleasing effect. Meta stood conning + the words—woman—giant—mountain—glory—and + begged for another tale. + </p> + <p> + “Mine shall not be so stupid as Flora’s,” said Harry. “We have an old + sailor on board the Alcestis—a giant he might be for his voice—but + he sailed once in the Glory of the West, and there they had a monkey that + was picked up in Africa, and one day this old fellow found his queer + messmate, as he called him, spying through a glass, just like the captain. + The captain had a glorious collection of old coins, and the like, dug up + in some of the old Greek colonies, and whenever Master Monkey saw him + overhauling them, he would get out a brass button, or a card or two, and + turn ‘em over, and chatter at them, and glory over them, quite knowing,” + said Harry, imitating the gesture, “and I dare say he saw V.V., and + Tiberius Caesar, as well as the best of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Harry,” said Meta. “I think we are at no loss for monkeys + here. But I have not the word yet. Who comes next? Ethel—” + </p> + <p> + “I shall blunder, I forewarn you,” said Ethel, “but this is mine: There + was a young king who had an old tutor, whom he despised because he was so + strict, so he got rid of him, and took to idle sport. One day, when he was + out hunting in a forest, a white hind came and ran before him, till she + guided him to a castle, and there he found a lady all dressed in white, + with a beamy crown on head, and so nobly beautiful that he fell in love + with her at once, and was only sorry to see another prince who was come to + her palace too. She told them her name was Gloria, and that she had had + many suitors, but the choice did not depend on herself—she could + only be won by him who deserved her, and for three years they were to be + on their probation, trying for her. So she dismissed them, only burning to + gain her, and telling them to come back in three years’ time. But they had + not gone far before they saw another palace, much finer, all glittering + with gold and silver, and their Lady Gloria came out to meet them, not in + her white dress, but in one all gay and bright with fine colours, and her + crown they now saw was of diamonds. She told them they had only seen her + everyday dress and house, this was her best; and she showed them about the + castle, and all the pictures of her former lovers. There was Alexander, + who had been nearer retaining her than any one, only the fever prevented + it; there was Pyrrhus, always seeking her, but slain by a tile; Julius + Caesar—Tamerlane—all the rest, and she hoped that one of these + two would really prove worthy and gain her, by going in the same path as + these great people. + </p> + <p> + “So our prince went home; his head full of being like Alexander and all + the rest of them, and he sent for his good old tutor to reckon up his + armies, and see whom he could conquer in order to win her. But the old + tutor told him he was under a mistake; the second lady he had seen was a + treacherous cousin of Gloria, who drew away her suitors by her deceits, + and whose real name was Vana Gloria. If he wished to earn the true Gloria, + he must set to work to do his subjects good, and to be virtuous. And he + did; he taught them, and he did justice to them, and he bore it patiently + and kindly when they did not understand. But by-and-by the other king, who + had no good tutor to help him, had got his armies together, and conquered + ever so many people, and drawn off their men to be soldiers; and now he + attacked the good prince, and was so strong that he gained the victory, + though both prince and subjects fought manfully with heart and hand; but + the battle was lost, and the faithful prince wounded and made prisoner, + but bearing it most patiently, till he was dragged behind the other’s + triumphal car with all the rest, when the three years were up, to be + presented to Vana Gloria. And so he was carried into the forest, bleeding + and wounded, and his enemy drove the car over his body, and stretched out + his arms to Vana Gloria, and found her a vain, ugly wretch, who grew + frightful as soon as he grasped her. But the good dying prince saw the + beautiful beamy face of his lady—love bending over him. ‘Oh!’ he + said, ‘vision of my life, hast thou come to lighten my dying eyes? Never—never, + even in my best days, did I deem that I could be worthy of thee; the more + I strove, the more I knew that Gloria is for none below—for me less + than all.’ + </p> + <p> + “And then the lady came and lifted him up, and she said, ‘Gloria is given + to all who do and suffer truly in a good cause, for faithfulness is glory, + and that is thine.’” + </p> + <p> + Ethel’s language had become more flowing as she grew more eager in the + tale, and they all listened with suspended interest. Norman asked where + she got the story. “Out of an old French book, the ‘Magazin des enfans,’” + was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “But why did you alter the end?” said Flora, “why kill the poor man? He + used to be prosperous, why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I thought,” said Ethel, “that glory could not properly belong to + any one here, and if he was once conscious of it, it would be all spoiled. + Well, Meta, do you guess?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the word! I had forgotten all about it. I think I know what it must + be, but I should so like another story. May I not have one?” said Meta + coaxingly. “Mary, it is you.” + </p> + <p> + Mary fell back on her papa, and begged him to take hers. Papa told the + best stories of all, she said, and Meta looked beseeching. + </p> + <p> + “My story will not be as long as Ethel’s,” said the doctor, yielding with + a half-reluctant smile. “My story is of a humming-bird, a little creature + that loved its master with all its strength, and longed to do somewhat for + him. It was not satisfied with its lot, because it seemed merely a vain + and profitless creature. The nightingale sang praise, and the woods + sounded with the glory of its strains; the fowl was valued for its flesh, + the ostrich for its plume, but what could the little humming-bird do, save + rejoice in the glory of the flood of sunbeams, and disport itself over the + flowers, and glance in the sunny light, as its bright breastplate flashed + from rich purple to dazzling flame-colour, and its wings supported it, + fluttering so fast that the eye could hardly trace them, as it darted its + slender beak into the deep-belled blossoms. So the little bird grieved, + and could not rest, for thinking that it was useless in this world, that + it sought merely its own gratification, and could do nothing that could + conduce to the glory of its master. But one night a voice spoke to the + little bird, ‘Why hast thou been placed here,’ it said, ‘but at the will + of thy master? Was it not that he might delight himself in thy radiant + plumage, and see thy joy in the sunshine? His gifts are thy buoyant wing, + thy beauteous colours, the love of all around, the sweetness of the + honey-drop in the flowers, the shade of the palm leaf. Esteem them, then, + as his; value thine own bliss, while it lasts, as the token of his care + and love; and while thy heart praises him for them, and thy wings quiver + and dance to the tune of that praise, then, indeed, thy gladness conduces + to no vain-glory of thine own, in beauty, or in graceful flight, but thou + art a creature serving—as best thou canst to his glory.’” + </p> + <p> + “I know the word,” half whispered Meta, not without a trembling of the + lip. “I know why you told the story, Dr. May, but one is not as good as + the humming-birds.” + </p> + <p> + The elder ladies had begun to look at watches, and talk of time to go + home; and Jem Jemmings having been seen rearing himself up from behind the + barrow, the doctor proceeded to investigate his case, was perfectly + satisfied of the boy’s truth, and as ready as the young ones to befriend + him. A letter should be written at once, desiring his father to look out + for him on Friday, when he should go by the same train as Harry, who was + delighted at the notion of protecting him so far, and begged to be allowed + to drive him home to Stoneborough in the gig. + </p> + <p> + Consent was given; and Richard being added to give weight and discretion, + the gig set out at once—the doctor, much to Meta’s delight, took his + place in the brake. Blanche, who, in the morning, had been inclined to + despise it as something akin to a cart, now finding it a popular + conveyance, was urgent to return in it; and Flora was made over to the + carriage, not at all unwillingly, for, though it separated her from Meta, + it made a senior of her. + </p> + <p> + Norman’s fate conveyed him to the exalted seat beside the driver of the + brake, where he could only now and then catch the sounds of mirth from + below. He had enjoyed the day exceedingly, with that sort of abandon more + than ordinarily delicious to grave or saddened temperaments, when roused + or drawn out for a time. Meta’s winning grace and sweetness had a peculiar + charm for him, and, perhaps, his having been originally introduced to her + as ill, and in sorrow, had given her manner towards him a sort of kindness + which was very gratifying. + </p> + <p> + And now he felt as if he was going back to a very dusky dusty world; the + last and blithest day of his holidays was past, and he must return to the + misapprehensions and injustice that had blighted his school career, be + kept beneath boys with half his ability, and without generous feeling, and + find all his attainments useless in restoring his position. Dr. Hoxton’s + dull scholarship would chill all pleasure in his studies—there would + be no companionship among the boys—even his supporters, Ernescliffe + and Larkins, were gone, and Harry would leave him still under a cloud. + </p> + <p> + Norman felt it more as disgrace than he had done since the first, and + wished he had consented to quit the school when it had been offered—be + made a man, instead of suffering these doubly irksome provocations, which + rose before him in renewed force. “And what would that little humming-bird + think of me if she knew me disgraced?” thought he. “But it is of no use to + think of it. I must go through with it, and as I always am getting + vain-glorious, I had better have no opportunity. I did not declare I + renounced vain pomp and glory last week, to begin coveting them now + again.” + </p> + <p> + So Norman repressed the sigh as he looked at the school buildings, which + never could give him the pleasures of memory they afforded to others. + </p> + <p> + The brake had set out before the carriage, so that Meta had to come in and + wait for her governess. Before the vehicle had disgorged half its + contents, Harry had rushed out to meet them. “Come in, come in, Norman! + Only hear. Margaret shall tell you herself! Hurrah!” + </p> + <p> + Is Mr. Ernescliffe come? crossed Ethel’s mind, but Margaret was alone, + flushed, and holding out her hands. “Norman! where is he? Dear Norman, + here is good news! Papa, Dr. Hoxton has been here, and he knows all about + it—and oh! Norman, he is very sorry for the injustice, and you are + dux again!” + </p> + <p> + Norman really trembled so much that he could neither speak nor stand, but + sat down on the window-seat, while a confusion of tongues asked more. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Hoxton and Mr. Larkins had come to call—heard no one was at home + but Miss May—had, nevertheless, come in—and Margaret had heard + that Mr. Larkins, who had before intended to remove his son from + Stoneborough, had, in the course of the holidays, made discoveries from + him, which he could not feel justified in concealing from Dr. Hoxton. + </p> + <p> + The whole of the transactions with Ballhatchet, and Norman’s part in them, + had been explained, as well as the true history of the affray in Randall’s + Alley—how Norman had dispersed the boys, how they had again + collected, and, with the full concurrence of Harvey Anderson, renewed the + mischief, how the Andersons had refused to bear witness in his favour, and + how Ballhatchet’s ill-will had kept back the evidence which would have + cleared him. + </p> + <p> + Little Larkins had told all, and his father had no scruple in repeating + it, and causing the investigation to be set on foot. Nay, he deemed that + Norman’s influence had saved his son, and came, as anxious to thank him, + as Dr. Hoxton, warm-hearted, though injudicious, was to repair his + injustice. They were much surprised and struck by finding that Dr. May had + been aware of the truth the whole time, and had patiently put up with the + injustice, and the loss of the scholarship—a loss which Dr. Hoxton + would have given anything to repair, so as to have sent up a scholar + likely to do him so much credit; but it was now too late, and he had only + been able to tell Margaret how dismayed he was at finding out that the boy + to whom all the good order in his school was owing had been so ill-used. + Kind Dr. May’s first feeling really seemed to be pity and sympathy for his + old friend, the head-master, in the shock of such a discovery. Harry was + vociferously telling his version of the story to Ethel and Mary. Tom stood + transfixed in attention. Meta, forgotten and bewildered, was standing near + Norman, whose colour rapidly varied, and whose breath came short and quick + as he listened. A quick half interrogation passed Meta’s lips, heard by no + one else. + </p> + <p> + “It is only that it is all right,” he answered, scarcely audibly; “they + have found out the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “What?—who?—you?” said Meta, as she heard words that implied + the past suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norman, “I was suspected, but never at home.” + </p> + <p> + “And is it over now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” he whispered huskily, “all is right, and Harry will not leave + me in disgrace.” + </p> + <p> + Meta did not speak, but she held out her hand in hearty congratulation; + Norman, scarce knowing what he did, grasped and wrung it so tight that it + was positive pain, as he turned away his head to the window to struggle + with those irrepressible tears. Meta’s colour flushed into her cheek as + she found it still held, almost unconsciously, perhaps, in his agitation, + and she heard Margaret’s words, that both gentlemen had said Norman had + acted nobly, and that every revelation made in the course of their + examination had only more fully established his admirable conduct. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Norman, Norman, I am so glad!” cried Mary’s voice in the first pause, + and, Margaret asking where he was, he suddenly turned round, recollected + himself, and found it was not the back of the chair that he had been + squeezing, blushed intensely, but made no attempt at apology, for indeed + he could not speak—he only leaned down over Margaret, to receive her + heartfelt embrace; and, as he stood up again, his father laid his hand on + his shoulder, “My boy, I am glad;” but the words were broken, and, as if + neither could bear more, Norman hastily left the room, Ethel rushing after + him. + </p> + <p> + “Quite overcome!” said the doctor, “and no wonder. He felt it cruelly, + though he bore up gallantly. Well, July?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go down to school with him to-morrow, and see him dux again! I’ll + have three-times-three!” shouted Harry; “hip! hip! hurrah!” and Tom and + Mary joined in chorus. + </p> + <p> + “What is all this?” exclaimed Flora, opening the door, “—is every + one gone mad?” + </p> + <p> + Many were the voices that answered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am glad, and I hope the Andersons will make an apology. But where + is poor Meta? Quite forgotten?” + </p> + <p> + “Meta would not wonder if she knew all,” said the doctor, turning, with a + sweet smile that had in it something, nevertheless, of apology. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad—so glad!” said Meta, her eyes full of tears, as + she came forward. + </p> + <p> + And there was no helping it; the first kiss between Margaret May and + Margaret Rivers was given in that overflowing sympathy of congratulation. + </p> + <p> + The doctor gave her his arm to take her to the carriage, and, on the way, + his quick warm words filled up the sketch of Norman’s behaviour; Meta’s + eyes responded better than her tongue, but, to her good-bye, she could not + help adding, “Now I have seen true glory.” + </p> + <p> + His answer was much such a grip as her poor little fingers had already + received, but though they felt hot and crushed all the way home, the + sensation seemed to cause such throbs of joy, that she would not have been + without it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And full of hope, day followed day, + While that stout ship at anchor lay + Beside the shores of Wight. + The May had then made all things green, + And floating there, in pomp serene, + That ship was goodly to be seen, + His pride and his delight. + + Yet then when called ashore, he sought + The tender peace of rural thought, + In more than happy mood. + To your abodes, bright daisy flowers, + He then would steal at leisure hours, + And loved you, glittering in your bowers, + A starry multitude. + WORDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + Harry’s last home morning was brightened by going to the school to see + full justice done to Norman, and enjoying the scene for him. It was indeed + a painful ordeal to Norman himself, who could, at the moment, scarcely + feel pleasure in his restoration, excepting for the sake of his father, + Harry, and his sisters. To find the head-master making apologies to him + was positively painful and embarrassing, and his countenance would have + been fitter for a culprit receiving a lecture. It was pleasanter when the + two other masters shook hands with him, Mr. Harrison with a free + confession that he had done him injustice, and Mr. Wilmot with a glad look + of congratulation, that convinced Harry he had never believed Norman to + blame. + </p> + <p> + Harry himself was somewhat of a hero; the masters all spoke to him, bade + him good speed, and wished him a happy voyage, and all the boys were eager + to admire his uniform, and wish themselves already men and officers like + Mr. May. He had his long-desired three cheers for “May senior!” shouted + with a thorough goodwill by the united lungs of the Whichcote foundation, + and a supplementary cheer arose for the good ship Alcestis, while hands + were held out on every side; and the boy arrived at such a pitch of + benevolence and good humour, as actually to volunteer a friendly shake of + the hand to Edward Anderson, whom he encountered skulking apart. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Ned, we have often licked each other before now, and don’t + let us bear a grudge now I am going away. We are Stoneborough fellows + both, you know, after all.” + </p> + <p> + Edward did not refuse the offered grasp, and though his words were only, + “Good-bye, I hope you will have plenty of fun!” Harry went away with a + lighter heart. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the day Harry adhered closely to his father, though chiefly in + silence; Dr. May had intended much advice and exhortation for his + warm-hearted, wild-spirited son, but words would not come, not even when + in the still evening twilight they walked down alone together to the + cloister, and stood over the little stone marked M. M. After standing + there for some minutes, Harry knelt to collect some of the daisies in the + grass. + </p> + <p> + “Are those to take with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret is going to make a cross of them for my Prayerbook.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, they will keep it in your mind—say it all to you, Harry. She + may be nearer to you everywhere, though you are far from us. Don’t put + yourself from her.” + </p> + <p> + That was all Dr. May contrived to say to his son, nor could Margaret do + much more than kiss him, while tears flowed one by one over her cheeks, as + she tried to whisper that he must remember and guard himself, and that he + was sure of being thought of, at least, in every prayer; and then she + fastened into his book the cross, formed of flattened daisies, gummed upon + a framework of paper. He begged her to place it at the Baptismal Service, + for he said, “I like that about fighting—and I always did like the + church being like a ship—don’t you? I only found that prayer out the + day poor little Daisy was christened.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret had indeed a thrill of melancholy pleasure in this task, when she + saw how it was regarded. Oh, that her boy might not lose these impressions + amid the stormy waves he was about to encounter! + </p> + <p> + That last evening of home good-nights cost Harry many a choking sob ere he + could fall asleep; but the morning of departure had more cheerfulness; the + pleasure of patronising Jem Jennings was as consoling to his spirits, as + was to Mary the necessity of comforting Toby. + </p> + <p> + Toby’s tastes were in some respects vulgar, as he preferred the stable, + and Will Adams, to all Mary’s attentions; but he attached himself + vehemently to Dr. May, followed him everywhere, and went into raptures at + the slightest notice from him. The doctor said it was all homage to the + master of the house. Margaret held that the dog was a physiognomist. + </p> + <p> + The world was somewhat flat after the loss of Harry—that element of + riot and fun; Aubrey was always playing at “poor Harry sailing away,” Mary + looked staid and sober, and Norman was still graver, and more devoted to + books, while Ethel gave herself up more completely to the thickening + troubles of Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + Jealousies had arisen there, and these, with some rebukes for failures in + sending children to be taught, had led to imputations on the character of + Mrs. Green, in whose house the school was kept. Ethel was at first + vehement in her defence; then when stronger evidence was adduced of the + woman’s dishonesty, she was dreadfully shocked, and wanted to give up all + connection with her, and in both moods was equally displeased with Richard + for pausing, and not going all lengths with her. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot was appealed to, and did his best to investigate, but the only + result was to discover that no one interrogated had any notion of truth, + except John Taylor, and he knew nothing of the matter. The mass of + falsehood, spite, violence, and dishonesty, that became evident, was + perfectly appalling, and not a clue was to be found to the truth—scarcely + a hope that minds so lost to honourable feeling were open to receive good + impressions. It was a great distress to Ethel—it haunted her night + and day—she lay awake pondering on the vain hopes for her poor + children, and slept to dream of the angry faces and rude accusations. + Margaret grew quite anxious about her, and her elders were seriously + considering the propriety of her continuing her labours at Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot would not be at Stoneborough after Christmas. His father’s + declining health made him be required at home, and since Richard was so + often absent, it became matter of doubt whether the Misses May ought to be + allowed to persevere, unassisted by older heads, in such a locality. + </p> + <p> + This doubt put Ethel into an agony. Though she had lately been declaring + that it made her very unhappy to go—she could not bear the sight of + Mrs. Green, and that she knew all her efforts were vain while the poor + children had such homes; she now only implored to be allowed to go on; she + said that the badness of the people only made it more needful to do their + utmost for them; there were no end to the arguments that she poured forth + upon her ever kind listener, Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear Ethel, yes, but pray be calm; I know papa and Mr. Wilmot would + not put a stop to it if they could possibly help it, but if it is not + proper—” + </p> + <p> + “Proper! that is as bad as Miss Winter!” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, you and I cannot judge of these things—you must leave them + to our elders—” + </p> + <p> + “And men always are so fanciful about ladies—” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, if you speak in that way, I shall think it is really hurting + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean it, dear Margaret,” said Ethel, “but if you knew what I + feel for poor Cocksmoor, you would not wonder that I cannot bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not wonder, dearest; but if this trial is sent you, perhaps it is to + train you for better things.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is for my fault,” said Ethel. “Oh, oh, if it be that I am too + unworthy! And it is the only hope; no one will do anything to teach these + poor creatures if I give it up. What shall I do, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret drew her down close to her, and whispered, “Trust them Ethel, + dear. The decision will be whatever is the will of God. If He thinks fit + to give you the work, it will come; if not, He will give you some other, + and provide for them.” + </p> + <p> + “If I have been too neglectful of home, too vain of persevering when no + one but Richard would!” sighed Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot see that you have, dearest,” said Margaret fondly, “but your own + heart must tell you that. And now, only try to be calm and patient. + Getting into these fits of despair is the very thing to make people decide + against you.” + </p> + <p> + “I will! I will! I will try to be patient,” sobbed Ethel; “I know to be + wayward and set on it would only hurt. I might only do more harm—I’ll + try. But oh, my poor children!” + </p> + <p> + Margaret gave a little space for the struggle with herself, then advised + her resolutely to fix her attention on something else. It was a Saturday + morning, and time was more free than usual, so Margaret was able to + persuade her to continue a half-forgotten drawing, while listening to an + interesting article in a review, which opened to her that there were too + many Cocksmoors in the world. + </p> + <p> + The dinner-hour sounded too soon, and as she was crossing the hall to put + away her drawing materials, the front door gave the click peculiar to Dr. + May’s left-handed way of opening it. She paused, and saw him enter, + flushed, and with a look that certified her that something had happened. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ethel, he is come.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, Mr. Ernes—” + </p> + <p> + He held up his finger, drew her into the study, and shut the door. The + expression of mystery and amusement gave way to sadness and gravity as he + sat down in his arm-chair, and sighed as if much fatigued. She was checked + and alarmed, but she could not help asking, “Is he here?” + </p> + <p> + “At the Swan. He came last night, and watched for me this morning as I + came out of the hospital. We have been walking over the meadows to + Fordholm.” + </p> + <p> + No wonder Dr. May was hot and tired. + </p> + <p> + “But is he not coming?” asked Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, poor fellow; but hush, stop, say nothing to the others. I must not + have her agitated till she has had her dinner in peace, and the house is + quiet. You know she cannot run away to her room as you would.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is really come for that?” cried Ethel breathlessly; and, + perceiving the affirmative, added, “But why did he wait so long?” + </p> + <p> + “He wished to see his way through his affairs, and also wanted to hear of + her from Harry. I am afraid poor July’s colours were too bright.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did he come to the Swan instead of to us?” + </p> + <p> + “That was his fine, noble feeling. He thought it right to see me first, + that if I thought the decision too trying for Margaret, in her present + state, or if I disapproved of the long engagement, I might spare her all + knowledge of his coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, you won’t!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know but that I ought; but yet, the fact is, that I cannot. With + that fine young fellow so generously, fondly attached I cannot find it in + my heart to send him away for four years without seeing her, and yet, poor + things, it might be better for them both. Oh, Ethel, if your mother were + but here!” + </p> + <p> + He rested his forehead on his hands, and Ethel stood aghast at his + unexpected reception of the addresses for which she had so long hoped. She + did not venture to speak, and presently he roused himself as the + dinner-bell rang. “One comfort is,” he said, “that Margaret has more + composure than I. Do you go to Cocksmoor this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “I wished it.” + </p> + <p> + “Take them all with you. You may tell them why when you are out. I must + have the house quiet. I shall get Margaret out into the shade, and prepare + her, as best I can, before he comes at three o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + It was not flattering to be thus cleared out of the way, especially when + full of excited curiosity, but any such sensation was quite overborne by + sympathy in his great anxiety, and Ethel’s only question was, “Had not + Flora better stay to keep off company?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Dr. May impatiently, “the fewer the better;” and hastily + passing her, he dashed up to his room, nearly running over the nursery + procession, and, in a very few seconds, was seated at table, eating and + speaking by snatches, and swallowing endless draughts of cold water. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to Cocksmoor!” said he, as they were finishing. + </p> + <p> + “It is the right day,” said Richard. “Are you coming, Flora?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-day, I have to call on Mrs. Hoxton.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind Mrs. Hoxton,” said the doctor; “you had better go to-day, a + fine cool day for a walk.” + </p> + <p> + He did not look as if he had found it so. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, Flora, you must come,” said Ethel, “we want you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have engagements at home,” replied Flora. + </p> + <p> + “And it really is a trying walk,” said Miss Winter. + </p> + <p> + “You must,” reiterated Ethel. “Come to our room, and I will tell you why.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not mean to go to Cocksmoor till something positive is settled. I + cannot have anything to do with that woman.” + </p> + <p> + “If you would only come upstairs,” implored Ethel, at the door, “I have + something to tell you alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall come up in due time. I thought you had outgrown closetings and + foolish secrets,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + Her movements were quickened, however, by her father, who, finding her + with Margaret in the drawing-room, ordered her upstairs in a peremptory + manner, which she resented, as treating her like a child, and therefore + proceeded in no amiable mood to the room, where Ethel awaited her in wild + tumultuous impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ethel, what is this grand secret?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Flora! Mr. Ernescliffe is at the Swan! He has been speaking to papa + about Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “Proposing for her, do you mean?” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is coming to see her this afternoon, and that is the reason that + papa wants us to be all out of the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Did papa tell you this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel, beginning to perceive the secret of her displeasure, + “but only because I was the first person he met; and Norman guessed it + long ago. Do put on your things! I’ll tell you all I know when we are out. + Papa is so anxious to have the coast clear.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Flora; “but I shall not go with you. Do not be afraid + of my interfering with any one. I shall sit here.” + </p> + <p> + “But papa said you were to go.” + </p> + <p> + “If he had done me the favour of speaking to me himself,” said Flora, “I + should have shown him that it is not right that Margaret should be left + without any one at hand in case she should be overcome. He is of no use in + such cases, only makes things worse. I should not feel justified in + leaving Margaret with no one else, but he is in one of those + hand-over-head moods, when it is not of the least use to say a word to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Flora, how can you, when he expressly ordered you?” + </p> + <p> + “All he meant was, do not be in the way, and I shall not show myself + unless I am needed, when he would be glad enough of me. I am not bound to + obey the very letter, like Blanche or Mary.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel looked horrified by the assertion of independence, but Richard + called her from below, and, with one more fruitless entreaty, she ran + downstairs. + </p> + <p> + Richard had been hearing all from his father, and it was comfortable to + talk the matter over with him, and hear explained the anxiety which + frightened her, while she scarcely comprehended it; how Dr. May could not + feel certain whether it was right or expedient to promote an engagement + which must depend on health so uncertain as poor Margaret’s, and how he + dreaded the effect on the happiness of both. + </p> + <p> + Ethel’s romance seemed to be turning to melancholy, and she walked on + gravely and thoughtfully, though repeating that there could be no doubt of + Margaret’s perfect recovery by the time of the return from the voyage. + </p> + <p> + Her lessons were somewhat nervous and flurried, and even the sight of two + very nice neat new scholars, of very different appearance from the rest, + and of much superior attainments, only half interested her. Mary was + enchanted at them as a pair of prodigies, actually able to read! and had + made out their names, and their former abodes, and how they had been used + to go to school, and had just come to live in the cottage deserted by the + lamented Una. + </p> + <p> + Ethel thought it quite provoking in her brother to accede to Mary’s + entreaties that they should go and call on this promising importation. + Even the children’s information that they were taught now by “Sister + Cherry” failed to attract her; but Richard looked at his watch, and + decided that it was too soon to go home, and she had to submit to her + fate. + </p> + <p> + Very different was the aspect of the house from the wild Irish cabin + appearance that it had in the M’Carthy days. It was the remains of an old + farm-house that had seen better days, somewhat larger than the general run + of the Cocksmoor dwellings. Respectable furniture had taken up its abode + against the walls, the kitchen was well arranged, and, in spite of the + wretched flooring and broken windows, had an air of comfort. A very tidy + woman was bustling about, still trying to get rid of the relics of her + former tenants, who might, she much feared, have left a legacy of typhus + fever. The more interesting person was, however, a young woman of three or + four and twenty, pale, and very lame, and with the air of a respectable + servant, her manners particularly pleasing. It appeared that she was the + daughter of a first wife, and, after the period of schooling, had been at + service, but had been lamed by a fall downstairs, and had been obliged to + come home, just as scarcity of work had caused her father to leave his + native parish, and seek employment at other quarries. She had hoped to + obtain plain work, but all the family were dismayed and disappointed at + the wild spot to which they had come, and anxiously availed themselves of + this introduction to beg that the elder boy and girl might be admitted + into the town school, distant as it was. At another time, the thought of + Charity Elwood would have engrossed Ethel’s whole mind, now she could + hardly attend, and kept looking eagerly at Richard as he talked endlessly + with the good mother. When, at last, they did set off, he would not let + her gallop home like a steam-engine, but made her take his arm, when he + found that she could not otherwise moderate her steps. At the long hill a + figure appeared, and, as soon as Richard was certified of its identity, he + let her fly, like a bolt from a crossbow, and she stood by Dr. May’s side. + </p> + <p> + A little ashamed, she blushed instead of speaking, and waited for Richard + to come up and begin. Neither did he say anything, and they paused till, + the silence disturbing her, she ventured a “Well, papa!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, poor things. She was quite overcome when first I told her—said + it would be hard on him, and begged me to tell him that he would be much + happier if he thought no more of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Margaret?” cried Ethel. “Oh! could she mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “She thought she meant it, poor dear, and repeated such things again and + again; but when I asked whether I should send him away without seeing her, + she cried more than ever, and said, ‘You are tempting me! It would be + selfishness.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! she surely has seen him!” + </p> + <p> + “I told her that I would be the last person to wish to tempt her to + selfishness, but that I did not think that either could be easy in + settling such a matter through a third person.” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been very unkind,” said Ethel; “I wonder she did not think + so.” + </p> + <p> + “She did at last. I saw it could not be otherwise, and she said, poor + darling, that when he had seen her, he would know the impossibility; but + she was so agitated that I did not know how it could be.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I told him not to stay too long, and left him under the tulip-tree + with her. I found her much more composed—he was so gentle and + considerate. Ah! he is the very man! Besides, he has convinced her now + that affection brings him, not mere generosity, as she fancied.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then it is settled!” cried Ethel joyously. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it were! She has owned that if—if she were in health—but + that is all, and he is transported with having gained so much! Poor + fellow. So far, I trust, it is better for them to know each other’s minds, + but how it is to be—” + </p> + <p> + “But, papa, you know Sir Matthew Fleet said she was sure to get well; and + in three years’ time—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, that is the best chance. But it is a dreary lookout for two + young things. That is in wiser hands, however! If only I saw what was + right to do! My miserable carelessness has undone you all!” he concluded, + almost inaudibly. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed, to him, a time of great distress and perplexity, wishing to + act the part of father and mother both towards his daughter, acutely + feeling his want of calm decision, and torn to pieces at once by sympathy + with the lovers, and by delicacy that held him back from seeming to bind + the young man to an uncertain engagement, above all, tortured by + self-reproach for the commencement of the attachment, and for the + misfortune that had rendered its prosperity doubtful. + </p> + <p> + Ethel could find no words of comfort in the bewildered glimpse at his + sorrow and agitation. Richard spoke with calmness and good sense, and his + replies, though brief and commonplace, were not without effect in + lessening the excitement and despondency which the poor doctor’s present + mood had been aggravating. + </p> + <p> + At the door, Dr. May asked for Flora, and Ethel explained. If Flora had + obtruded herself, he would have been irritated, but, as it was, he had no + time to observe the disobedience, and saying that he hoped she was with + Margaret, sent Ethel into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Flora was not there, only Margaret lay on her sofa, and Ethel hesitated, + shy, curious, and alarmed; but, as she approached, she was relieved to see + the blue eyes more serene even than usual, while a glow of colour spread + over her face, making her like the blooming Margaret of old times; her + expression was full of peace, but became somewhat amused at Ethel’s timid, + awkward pauses, as she held out her hands, and said, “Come, dear Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret, Margaret!” + </p> + <p> + And Ethel was drawn into her sister’s bosom. Presently she drew back, + gazed at her sister inquiringly, and said in an odd, doubtful voice, “Then + you are glad?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret nearly laughed at the strange manner, but spoke with a sorrowful + tone, “Glad in one way, dearest, almost too glad, and grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad!” again said Ethel; “I thought it was making everybody + unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe I could be that, now he has come, now I know;” and her + voice trembled. “There must be doubt and uncertainty,” she added, “but I + cannot dwell on them just yet. They will settle what is right, I know, + and, happen what may, I have always this to remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is right! Papa will be so relieved! He was afraid it had only + been distress.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor papa! Yes, I did not command myself at first; I was not sure whether + it was right to see him at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret, that was too bad!” + </p> + <p> + “It did not seem right to encourage any such—such,” the word was + lost, “to such a poor helpless thing as I am. I did not know what to do, + and I am afraid I behaved like a silly child, and did not think of dear + papa’s feelings. But I will try to be good, and leave it all to them.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are going to be happy?” said Ethel wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “For the present, at least. I cannot help it,” said Margaret. “Oh, he is + so kind, and so unselfish, and so beautifully gentle—and to think of + his still caring! But there, dear Ethel, I am not going to cry; do call + papa, or he will think me foolish again. I want him to be quite at ease + about me before he comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, at tea-time—so run, dear Ethel, and tell Jane to get his room + ready.” + </p> + <p> + The message quickened Ethel, and after giving it, and reporting + consolingly to her father, she went up to Flora, who had been a voluntary + prisoner upstairs all this time, and was not peculiarly gratified at such + tidings coming only through the medium of Ethel. She had before been + sensible that, superior in discretion and effectiveness as she was + acknowledged to be, she did not share so much of the confidence and + sympathy as some of the others, and she felt mortified and injured, though + in this case it was entirely her own fault. The sense of alienation grew + upon her. + </p> + <p> + She dressed quickly, and hurried down, that she might see Margaret alone; + but the room was already prepared for tea, and the children were fast + assembling. Ethel came down a few minutes after, and found Blanche + claiming Alan Ernescliffe as her lawful property, dancing round him, + chattering, and looking injured if he addressed a word to any one else. + </p> + <p> + How did lovers look? was a speculation which had, more than once, occupied + Ethel, and when she had satisfied herself that her father was at ease, she + began to study it, as soon as a shamefaced consciousness would allow her, + after Alan’s warm shake of the hand. + </p> + <p> + Margaret looked much as usual, only with more glow and brightness—Mr. + Ernescliffe, not far otherwise; he was as pale and slight as on his last + visit, with the same soft blue eyes, capable, however, of a peculiar, + keen, steady glance when he was listening, and which now seemed to be + attending to Margaret’s every word or look, through all the delighted + uproar which Aubrey, Blanche, and Mary kept up round him, or while taking + his share in the general conversation, telling of Harry’s popularity and + good conduct on board the Alcestis, or listening to the history of + Norman’s school adventures, which he had heard, in part, from Harry, and + how young Jennings was entered in the flag-ship, as a boy, though not yet + to sail with his father. + </p> + <p> + After the storm of the day the sky seemed quite clear, and Ethel could not + see that being lovers made much difference; to be sure papa displeased + Blanche, by calling her away to his side, when she would squeeze her chair + in between Alan’s and the sofa; and Alan took all the waiting on Margaret + exclusively to himself. Otherwise, there was nothing remarkable, and he + was very much the same Mr. Ernescliffe whom they had received a year ago. + </p> + <p> + In truth, the next ten days were very happy. The future was left to rest, + and Alan spent his mornings in the drawing-room alone with Margaret, and + looked ever more brightly placid, while, with the rest, he was more than + the former kind playfellow, for he now took his place as the affectionate + elder brother, entering warmly into all their schemes and pleasures, and + winning for himself a full measure of affection from all; even his little + god-daughter began to know him, and smile at his presence. Margaret and + Ethel especially delighted in the look of enjoyment with which their + father sat down to enter on the evening’s conversation after the day’s + work; and Flora was well pleased that Mrs. Hoxton should find Alan in the + drawing-room, and ask afterwards about his estate; and that Meta Rivers, + after being certified that this was their Mr. Ernescliffe, pronounced that + her papa thought him particularly pleasing and gentlemanlike. There was + something dignified in having a sister on the point of being engaged. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sail forth into the sea, thou ship, + Through breeze and cloud, right onward steer; + The moistened eye, the trembling lip, + Are not the signs of doubt or fear!—LONGFELLOW. +</pre> + <p> + Tranquility only lasted until Mr. Ernescliffe found it necessary to + understand on what terms he was to stand. Every one was tender of + conscience, anxious to do right, and desirous to yield to the opinion that + nobody could, or would give. While Alan begged for a positive engagement, + Margaret scrupled to exchange promises that she might never be able to + fulfil, and both agreed to leave all to her father, who, in every way, + ought to have the best ability to judge whether there was unreasonable + presumption in such a betrothal; but this very ability only served to + perplex the poor doctor more and more. It is far easier for a man to + decide when he sees only one bearing of a case, than when, like Dr. May, + he not only sees them, but is rent by them in his inmost heart. + Sympathising in turn with each lover, bitterly accusing his own + carelessness as the cause of all their troubles, his doubts contending + with his hopes, his conviction clashing with Sir Matthew Fleet’s opinion, + his conscientious sincerity and delicacy conflicting with his affection + and eagerness, he was perfectly incapable of coming to a decision, and + suffered so cruelly, that Margaret was doubly distressed for his sake, and + Alan felt himself guilty of having rendered everybody miserable. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May could not conceal his trouble, and rendered Ethel almost as + unhappy as himself, after each conversation with her, though her hopes + usually sprang up again, and she had a happy conviction that this was only + the second volume of the novel. Flora was not often called into his + councils; confidence never came spontaneously from Dr. May to her; there + was something that did not draw it forth towards her, whether it resided + in that half-sarcastic corner of her steady blue eye, or in the grave + common-sense of her gentle voice. Her view of the case was known to be + that there was no need for so much perplexity—why should not Alan be + the best judge of his own happiness? If Margaret were to be delicate for + life, it would be better to have such a home to look to; and she soothed + and comforted Margaret, and talked in a strain of unmixed hope and + anticipation that often drew a smile from her sister, though she feared to + trust to it. + </p> + <p> + Flora’s tact and consideration in keeping the children away when the + lovers could best be alone, and letting them in when the discussion was + becoming useless and harassing, her cheerful smiles, her evening music + that covered all sounds, her removal of all extra annoyances, were + invaluable, and Margaret appreciated them, as, indeed, Flora took care + that she should. + </p> + <p> + Margaret begged to know her eldest brother’s judgment, but had great + difficulty in dragging it out. Diffidently as it was proposed, it was + clear and decided. He thought that his father had better send Sir Matthew + Fleet a statement of Margaret’s present condition, and abide by his answer + as to whether her progress warranted the hope of her restoration. + </p> + <p> + Never was Richard more surprised than by the gratitude with which his + suggestion was hailed, simple as it was, so that it seemed obvious that + others should have already thought of it. After the tossings of + uncertainty, it was a positive relief to refer the question to some + external voice, and only Ethel and Norman expressed strong dislike to Sir + Matthew becoming the arbiter of Margaret’s fate, and were scarcely + pacified by Dr. May’s assurance that he had not revealed the occasion of + his inquiry. The letter was sent, and repose returned, but hearts beat + high on the morning when the answer was expected. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May watched the moment when his daughter was alone, carried the letter + to her, and kissing her, said, with an oppressed voice, “I give you joy, + my dear.” + </p> + <p> + She read with suspended breath and palpitating heart. Sir Matthew thought + her improvement sure, though slow, and had barely a doubt that, in a year, + she would have regained her full strength and activity. + </p> + <p> + “You will show it to Alan,” said Dr. May, as Margaret lifted her eyes to + his face inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Will not you?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” he answered. “I wish I was more helpful to you, my child,” he + added wistfully, “but you will rest on him, and be happy together while he + stays, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I will, dear papa.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ernescliffe was with her as the doctor quitted her. She held the + letter to him, “But,” she said slowly, “I see that papa does not believe + it.” + </p> + <p> + “You promised to abide by it!” he exclaimed, between entreaty and + authority. + </p> + <p> + “I do; if you choose so to risk your hopes.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” cried he, as he glanced hastily over the letter, “there can be no + doubt! These words are as certain as language can make them. Why will you + not trust them?” + </p> + <p> + “I see that papa does not.” + </p> + <p> + “Despondency and self-reproach made him morbidly anxious. Believe so, my + Margaret! You know he is no surgeon!” + </p> + <p> + “His education included that line,” said Margaret. “I believe he has all + but the manual dexterity. However, I would fain have faith in Sir + Matthew,” she added, smiling, “and perhaps I am only swayed by the habit + of thinking that papa must know best.” + </p> + <p> + “He does in indifferent cases; but it is an old axiom, that a medical man + should not prescribe for his own family; above all, in such a case, where + it is but reasonable to believe an unprejudiced stranger, who alone is + cool enough to be relied on. I absolutely depend on him!” + </p> + <p> + Margaret absolutely depended on the bright cheerful look of conviction. + “Yes,” she said, “we will try to make papa take pleasure in the prospect. + Perhaps I could do more if I made the attempt.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you could, if you would let me give you more support. If I were + but going to remain with you!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let us be discontented,” said Margaret, smiling, “when so much more + has been granted than I dare to hope. Be it as it may, let us be happy in + what we have.” + </p> + <p> + “It makes you happy?” said he, archly reading her face to draw out the + avowal, but he only made her hide it, with a mute caress of the hand that + held hers. She was glad enough to rest in the present, now that everything + concurred to satisfy her conscience in so doing, and come what might, the + days now spent together would be a possession of joy for ever. + </p> + <p> + Captain Gordon contrived to afford his lieutenant another fortnight’s + leave, perhaps because he was in dread of losing him altogether, for Alan + had some doubts, and many longings to remain. Had it been possible to + marry at once, he would have quitted the navy immediately; and he would + have given worlds to linger beside Margaret’s couch, and claim her the + first moment possible, believing his care more availing than all. He was, + however, so pledged to Captain Gordon, that, without strong cause, he + would not have been justified in withdrawing; besides, Harry was under his + charge, and Dr. May and Margaret both thought, with the captain, that an + active life would be a better occupation for him than watching her. He + would never be able to settle down at his new home comfortably without + her, and he would be more in the way of duty while pursuing his + profession, so Margaret nerved herself against using her influence to + detain him, and he thanked her for it. + </p> + <p> + Though hope and affection could not an once repair an injured spine, they + had wonderful powers in inciting Margaret to new efforts. Alan was as + tender and ready of hand as Richard, and more clever and enterprising; and + her unfailing trust in him prevented all alarms and misgivings, so that + wonders were effected, and her father beheld her standing with so little + support, looking so healthful and so blithe, that his forebodings melted + away, and he talked joyously of the future. + </p> + <p> + The great achievement was taking her round the garden. She could not bear + the motion of wheels, but Alan adopted the hammock principle, and, with + the aid of Richard and his crony, the carpenter, produced a machine in + which no other power on earth could have prevailed on her to trust + herself, but in which she was carried round the garden so successfully, + that there was even a talk of next Sunday, and of the Minster. + </p> + <p> + It was safely accomplished, and tired as she was, Margaret felt, as she + whispered to Alan, that he had now crowned all the joy that he had brought + to her. + </p> + <p> + Ethel used to watch them, and think how beautiful their countenances were, + and talk them over with her father, who was quite happy about them now. + She gave assistance, which Alan never once called unhandy, to all his + contrivances, and often floundered in upon his conferences with Margaret, + in a way that would have been very provoking, if she had not always + blushed and looked so excessively discomfited, and they had only to laugh + and reassure her. + </p> + <p> + Alan was struck by finding that the casual words spoken on the way from + Cocksmoor had been so strenuously acted on, and he brought on himself a + whole torrent of Ethel’s confused narratives, which Richard and Flora + would fain have checked; but Margaret let them continue, as she saw him a + willing listener, and was grateful to him for comprehending the ardent + girl. + </p> + <p> + He declared himself to have a share in the matter, reminding Ethel of her + appeal to him to bind himself to the service of Cocksmoor. He sent a + sovereign at once, to aid in a case of the sudden death of a pig; and when + securely established in his brotherly right, he begged Ethel to let him + know what would help her most. She stood colouring, twisting her hands, + and wondering what to say, whereupon he relieved her by a proposal to + leave an order for ten pounds, to be yearly paid into her hands, as a + fixed income for her school. + </p> + <p> + A thousand a year could hardly have been so much to Ethel. “Thank you! Oh, + this is charming! We could set up a regular school! Cherry Elwood is the + very woman! Alan, you have made our fortune! Oh, Margaret, Margaret! I + must go and tell Ritchie and Mary! This is the first real step to our + church and all!” + </p> + <p> + “May I do it?” said Alan, turning to Margaret, as Ethel frantically burst + out of the room; “perhaps I should have asked leave?” + </p> + <p> + “I was going to thank you,” said Margaret. “It is the very kindest thing + you could have done by dear Ethel! the greatest comfort to us. She will be + at peace now, when anything hinders her from going to Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Alan, musing, “whether we shall ever be able to help her + more substantially. I cannot do anything hastily, for you know Maplewood + is still in the hands of the executors, and I cannot tell what claims + there may be upon me; but by-and-by, when I return, if I find no other + pressing duty, might not a church at Cocksmoor be a thankoffering for all + I have found here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Alan, what joy it would be!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a long way off,” he said sadly; “and perhaps her force of + perseverance will have prevailed alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I must not tell her, even as a vision.” + </p> + <p> + “It is too uncertain; I do not know the wants of the Maplewood people, and + I must provide for Hector. I would not let these vague dreams interfere + with her resolute work; but, Margaret, what a vision it is! I can see you + laying the first stone on that fine heathy brow.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, your godchild should lay the first stone!” + </p> + <p> + “She shall, and you shall lead her. And there shall be Ethel’s sharp face + full of indescribable things as she marshals her children, and Richard + shall be curate, and read in his steady soft tone, and your father shall + look sunny with his boys around him, and you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Alan,” said Margaret, who had been listening with a smile, “it is, + indeed, a long way off!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall look to it as the haven where I would be,” said the sailor. + </p> + <p> + They often spoke together of this scheme, ever decking it in brighter + colours. The topic seemed to suit them better than their own future, for + there was no dwelling on that without an occasional misgiving, and the + more glad the anticipation, the deeper the sigh that followed on + Margaret’s part, till Mr. Ernescliffe followed her lead, and they seldom + spoke of these uncertainties, but outwardly smiled over the present, + inwardly dwelt on the truly certain hopes. There were readings shared + together, made more precious than all, by the conversations that ensued. + </p> + <p> + The hour for parting came at last. Ethel never knew what passed in the + drawing-room, whence every one was carefully excluded. Dr. May wandered + about, keeping guard over the door, and watching the clock, till, at the + last moment, he knocked, and called in a trembling voice, “Ernescliffe! + Alan! it is past the quarter! You must not stay!” + </p> + <p> + The other farewells were hurried; Alan seemed voiceless, only nodding in + reply to Mary’s vociferous messages to Harry, and huskily whispering to + Ethel, “Good luck to Cocksmoor!” + </p> + <p> + The next moment the door had shut on him, and Dr. May and Flora had gone + to her sister, whom she found not tearful, but begging to be left alone. + </p> + <p> + When they saw her again, she was cheerful; she kept up her composure and + animation without flagging, nor did she discontinue her new exertions, but + seemed decidedly the happier for all that had passed. + </p> + <p> + Letters came every day for her, and presents to every one. Ethel had a + gold chain and eyeglass, which, it was hoped, might cure her of frowning + and stooping, though her various ways of dangling her new possession + caused her to be so much teased by Flora and Norman, that, but for regard + to Margaret’s feelings, she would not have worn it for three days. + </p> + <p> + To Mary was sent a daguerreotype of Harry, her glory and delight. Say, who + would, that it had pig’s eyes, a savage frown, a pudding chin, there were + his own tight rings of hair, his gold-banded cap, his bright buttons, how + could she prize it enough? She exhibited it to the little ones ten times a + day, she kissed it night and morning, and registered her vow always to + sleep with it under her “pilow,” in a letter of thanks, which Margaret + defended and despatched, in spite of Miss Winter’s horrors at its + disregard of orthography. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly the last letter before the Alcestis was heard of at + Spithead. Then she sailed; she sent in her letters to Plymouth, and her + final greetings by a Falmouth cutter—poor Harry’s wild scrawl in + pencil looking very sea-sick. + </p> + <p> + “Dear papa and all, good-bye. We are out of sight of land. Three years, + and keep up a good heart. I shall soon be all right. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Your H. MAY.” + </pre> + <p> + It was enclosed in Mr. Ernescliffe’s envelope, and with it came tidings + that Harry’s brave spirit was not failing, even under untoward + circumstances, but he had struggled on deck, and tried to write, when all + his contemporaries had given in; in fact, he was a fine fellow—every + one liked him, and Captain Gordon, though chary of commendation, had held + him up to the other youngsters as an example of knowing what a sailor was + meant to be like. + </p> + <p> + Margaret smiled, and cried over the news when she imparted it—but + all serenely—and though she was glad to be alone, and wrote journals + for Alan, when she could not send letters, she exerted herself to be the + same sister as usual to the rest of the household, and not to give way to + her wandering musings. + </p> + <p> + From one subject her attention never strayed. Ethel had never found any + lack of sympathy in her for her Cocksmoor pursuits; but the change now + showed that, where once Margaret had been interested merely as a kind + sister, she now had a personal concern, and she threw herself into all + that related to it as her own chief interest and pursuit—becoming + the foremost in devising plans, and arranging the best means of using Mr. + Ernescliffe’s benefaction. + </p> + <p> + The Elwood family had grown in the good opinion of the Mays. Charity had + hobbled to church, leaning on her father’s arm, and being invited to + dinner in the kitchen, the acquaintance had been improved, and nurse + herself had pronounced her such a tidy, good sort of body, that it was a + pity she had met with such a misfortune. If Miss Ethel brought in nothing + but the like of her, they should be welcome; poor thing, how tired she + was! + </p> + <p> + Nurse’s opinions were apt to be sagacious, especially when in the face of + her prejudices, and this gave Margaret confidence. Cherry proved to have + been carefully taught by a good clergyman and his wife, and to be of very + different stamp from the persons to whom the girls were accustomed. They + were charmed with her, and eagerly offered to supply her with books—respecting + her the more when they found that Mr. Hazlewood had already lent her their + chief favourites. Other and greater needs they had no power to fill up. + </p> + <p> + “It is so lone without the church bells, you see, miss,” said Mrs. Elwood. + “Our tower had a real fine peal, and my man was one of the ringers. I + seems quite lost without them, and there was Cherry, went a’most every day + with the children.” + </p> + <p> + “Every day!” cried Mary, looking at her with respect. + </p> + <p> + “It was so near,” said Cherry, “I could get there easy, and I got used to + it when I was at school.” + </p> + <p> + “Did it not take up a great deal of time?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you see, ma’am, it came morning and night, out of working times, and + I can’t be stirring much.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you miss it sadly?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am, it made the day go on well like, and settled a body’s mind, + when I fretted for what could not be helped. But I try not to fret after + it now, and Mr. Hazlewood said, if I did my best wherever I was, the Lord + would still join our prayers together.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hazlewood was recollected by Mr. Wilmot as an old college friend, and + a correspondence with him fully confirmed the favourable estimate of the + Elwoods, and was decisive in determining that the day-school, with Alan’s + ten pounds as salary, and a penny a week from each child, should be + offered to Cherry. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hazlewood answered for her sound excellence, and aptitude for managing + little children, though he did not promise genius, such as should fulfil + the requirements of modern days. With these Cocksmoor could dispense at + present; Cherry was humbly gratified, and her parents delighted with the + honour and profit; there was a kitchen which afforded great facilities, + and Richard and his carpenter managed the fitting to admiration; Margaret + devised all manner of useful arrangements, settled matters with great + earnestness, saw Cherry frequently, discussed plans, and learned the + history and character of each child, as thoroughly as Ethel herself. Mr. + Ramsden himself came to the opening of the school, and said so much of the + obligations of Cocksmoor to the young ladies, that Ethel would not have + known which way to look, if Flora had not kindly borne the brunt of his + compliments. + </p> + <p> + Every one was pleased, except Mrs. Green, who took upon herself to set + about various malicious reports of Cherry Elwood; but nobody cared for + them, except Mrs. Elwood, who flew into such passions, that Ethel was + quite disappointed in her, though not in Cherry, who meekly tried to + silence her mother, begged the young ladies not to be vexed, and showed a + quiet dignity that soon made the shafts of slander fall inoffensively. + </p> + <p> + All went well; there was a school instead of a hubbub, clean faces instead + of dirty, shining hair instead of wild elf-locks, orderly children instead + of little savages. The order and obedience that Ethel could not gain in + six months, seemed impressed in six days by Cherry; the neat work made her + popular with the mothers, her firm gentleness won the hearts of the + children, and the kitchen was filled not only with boys and girls from the + quarry, but with some little ones from outlying cottages of Fordholm and + Abbotstoke, and there was even a smart little farmer, who had been + unbearable at home. + </p> + <p> + Margaret’s unsuccessful bath-chair was lent to Cherry, and in it her + scholars drew her to Stoneborough every Sunday, and slowly began to redeem + their character with the ladies, who began to lose the habit of shrinking + out of their way—the Stoneborough children did so instead; and Flora + and Ethel were always bringing home stories of injustice to their + scholars, fancied or real, and of triumphs in their having excelled any + national school girl. The most stupid children at Cocksmoor always seemed + to them wise in comparison with the Stoneborough girls, and the + Sunday-school might have become to Ethel a school of rivalry, if Richard + had not opened her eyes by a quiet observation, that the town girls seemed + to fare as ill with her, as the Cocksmoor girls did with the town ladies. + Then she caught herself up, tried to be candid, and found that she was not + always impartial in her judgments. Why would competition mingle even in + the best attempts? + </p> + <p> + Cherry did not so bring forward her scholars that Ethel could have many + triumphs of this dangerous kind. Indeed, Ethel was often vexed with her; + for though she taught needlework admirably, and enforced correct reading, + and reverent repetition, her strong provincial dialect was a + stumbling-block; she could not put questions without book, and nothing + would teach her Ethel’s rational system of arithmetic. That she was a + capital dame, and made the children very good, was allowed; but now and + then, when mortified by hearing what was done at Stoneborough, Fordholm, + or Abbotstoke, Ethel would make vigorous efforts, which resulted only in + her coming home fuming at Cherry’s “outrageous dullness.” + </p> + <p> + These railings always hurt Margaret, who had made Cherry almost into a + friend, and generally liked to have a visit from her during the Sunday, + when she always dined with the servants. Then school questions, Cocksmoor + news, and the tempers of the children, were talked over, and Cherry was + now and then drawn into home reminiscences, and descriptions of the ways + of her former school. There was no fear of spoiling her—notice from + her superiors was natural to her, and she had the lady-likeness of womanly + goodness, so as never to go beyond her own place. She had had many trials + too, and Margaret learned the true history of them, as she won Cherry’s + confidence, and entered into them, feeling their likeness, yet + dissimilarity, to her own. + </p> + <p> + Cherry had been a brisk happy girl in a good place, resting in one of the + long engagements that often extend over half the life of a servant, + enjoying the nod of her baker as he left his bread, and her walk from + church with him on alternate Sundays. But poor Cherry had been exposed to + the perils of window-cleaning; and, after a frightful fall, had wakened to + find herself in a hospital, and her severe sufferings had left her a + cripple for life. + </p> + <p> + And the baker had not been an Alan Ernescliffe! She did not complain of + him—he had come to see her, and had been much grieved, but she had + told him she could never be a useful wife; and, before she had used her + crutches, he was married to her pretty fellow-servant. + </p> + <p> + Cherry spoke very simply; she hoped it was better for Long, and believed + Susan would make him a good wife. Ethel would have thought she did not + feel, but Margaret knew better. + </p> + <p> + She stroked the thin slight fingers, and gently said, “Poor Cherry!” and + Cherry wiped away a tear, and said, “Yes, ma’am, thank you, it is best for + him. I should not have wished him to grieve for what cannot be helped.” + </p> + <p> + “Resignation is the great comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am. I have a great deal to be thankful for. I don’t blame no one, + but I do see how some, as are married, seem to get to think more of this + world; and now and then I fancy I can see how it is best for me as it is.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret sighed, as she remembered certain thoughts before Alan’s return. + </p> + <p> + “Then, ma’am, there has been such goodness! I did vex at being a poor + helpless thing, nothing but a burden on father; and when we had to go from + home, and Mr. and Mrs. Hazlewood and all, I can’t tell you how bad it was, + ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are comforted now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am,” said Cherry, brightening. “It seems as if He had given me + something to do, and there are you, and Mr. Richard, and Miss Ethel, to + help. I should like, please God, to be of some good to those poor + children.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you will, Cherry; I wish I could do as much.” + </p> + <p> + Cherry’s tears had come again. “Ah! ma’am, you—” and she stopped + short, and rose to depart. Margaret held out her hand to wish her + good-bye. “Please, miss, I was thinking how Mr. Hazlewood said that God + fits our place to us, and us to our place.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Cherry, you are leaving me something to remember.” + </p> + <p> + And Margaret lay questioning with herself, whether the schoolmistress had + not been the most self-denying of the two; but withal gazing on the hoop + of pearls which Alan had chosen as the ring of betrothal. + </p> + <p> + “The pearl of great price,” murmured she to herself; “if we hold that, the + rest will soon matter but little. It remaineth that both they that have + wives, be as they that have none, and they that weep, as though they wept + not, and they that rejoice, as though they rejoiced not! If ever Alan and + I have a home together upon earth, may all too confident joy be tempered + by the fears that we have begun with! I hope this probation may make me + less likely to be taken up with the cares and pleasures of his position + than I might have been last year. He is one who can best help the mind to + go truly upward. But oh, that voyage!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Heart affluence in household talk, + From social fountains never dry.—TENNYSON. +</pre> + <p> + “What a bore!” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter now?” + </p> + <p> + “Here has this old fellow asked me to dinner again!” + </p> + <p> + “A fine pass we are come to!” cried Dr. May, half amused, half irate. “I + should like to know what I should have said at your age if the head-master + had asked me to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa is not so very fond of dining at Dr. Hoxton’s,” said Ethel. “A + whipper-snapper schoolboy, who might be thankful to dine anywhere!” + continued Dr. May, while the girls burst out laughing, and Norman looked + injured. + </p> + <p> + “It is very ungrateful of Norman,” said Flora; “I cannot see what he finds + to complain of.” + </p> + <p> + “You would know,” said Norman, “if, instead of playing those perpetual + tunes of yours, you had to sit it out in that perfumy drawing-room, + without anything to listen to worth hearing. If I have looked over that + court album once, I have a dozen times, and there is not another book in + the place.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad there is not,” said Flora. “I am quite ashamed to see you for + ever turning over those old pictures. You cannot guess how stupid you + look. I wonder Mrs. Hoxton likes to have you,” she added, patting his + shoulders between jest and earnest. + </p> + <p> + “I wish she would not, then. It is only to escort you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Norman, you know better,” cried Ethel. “You know it is for your + own sake, and to make up for their injustice, that he invites you, or + Flora either.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Ethel! he gives himself quite airs enough already,” said the + doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Papa!” said Ethel, in vexation, though he gave her a pinch to show it was + all in good humour, while he went on, “I am glad to hear they do leave him + to himself in a corner. A very good thing too! Where else should a great + gawky schoolboy be?” + </p> + <p> + “Safe at home, where I wish he would let me be,” muttered Norman, though + he contrived to smile, and followed Flora out of the room, without + subjecting himself to the imputation of offended dignity. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was displeased, and began her defence: “Papa, I wish—” and + there she checked herself. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! Miss Ethel’s bristles up!” said her father, who seemed in a somewhat + mischievous mood of teasing. + </p> + <p> + “How could you, papa?” cried she. + </p> + <p> + “How could I what, Miss Etheldred?” + </p> + <p> + “Plague Norman,”—the words would come. “Accuse him of airs.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate to see young fellows above taking an honour from their elders,” + said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “Now, papa, papa, you know it is no such thing. Dr. Hoxton’s parties are + very dull—you know they are, and it is not fair on Norman. If he was + set up and delighted at going so often, then you would call him + conceited.” + </p> + <p> + “Conceit has a good many lurking-places,” said Dr. May. “It is harder to + go and be overlooked, than to stay at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, papa, you are not to call Norman conceited,” cried Ethel. “You don’t + believe that he is any such thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, not exactly,” said Dr. May, smiling. “The boy has missed it + marvellously; but, you see, he has everything that subtle imp would wish + to feed upon, and it is no harm to give him a lick with the rough side of + the tongue, as your canny Scots grandfather used to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! if you knew, papa—” began Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “If I knew?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I must not tell.” + </p> + <p> + “What, a secret, is there?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish it was not; I should like to tell you very much, but then, you + see, it is Norman’s, and you are to be surprised.” + </p> + <p> + “Your surprise is likely to be very much like Blanche’s birthday presents, + a stage aside.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am going to keep it to myself.” + </p> + <p> + Two or three days after, as Ethel was going to the schoolroom after + breakfast, Dr. May beckoned her back to the dining-room, and, with his + merry look of significance, said, “Well, ma’am, I have found out your + mystery!” + </p> + <p> + “About Norman? Oh, papa! Did he tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “When I came home from the hospital last night, at an hour when all + respectable characters, except doctors and police, should be in their warm + beds, I beheld a light in Norman’s window, so methought I would see what + Gravity was doing out of his bed at midnight—” + </p> + <p> + “And you found him at his Greek—” + </p> + <p> + “So that was the meaning of his looking so lank and careworn, just as he + did last year, and he the prince of the school! I could have found it in + my heart to fling the books at his head!” + </p> + <p> + “But you consent, don’t you, to his going up for the scholarship?” + </p> + <p> + “I consent to anything, as long as he keeps within due bounds, and does + not work himself to death. I am glad of knowing it, for now I can put a + moderate check upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “And did he tell you all about it?” + </p> + <p> + “He told me he felt as if he owed it to us to gain something for himself, + since I had given up the Randall to gratify him—a pretty sort of + gratification.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and he will be glad to get away from school. He says he knows it is + bad for him—as it is uncomfortable to be singled out in the way Dr. + Hoxton does now. You know,” pleaded Ethel, “it is not ingratitude or + elation, but it is, somehow, not nice to be treated as he is, set apart + from the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “True; Dr. Hoxton never had taste or judgment. If Norman were not a lusus + naturae,” said Dr. May, hesitating for a word, “his head would have been + turned long ago. And he wants companions too—he has been forced out + of boyhood too soon, poor fellow—and Harry gone too. He does not get + anything like real relaxation, and he will be better among youths than + boys. Stoneborough will never be what it was in my time!” added the doctor + mournfully. “I never thought to see the poor old place come to this; but + there—when all the better class send their sons to the great public + schools, and leave nothing but riff-raff here, one is forced, for a boy’s + own sake, to do the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad! Then you have consented to the rest of Norman’s scheme, + and will not keep poor little Tom at school here without him?” + </p> + <p> + “By what he tells me it would be downright ruin to the boy. I little + thought to have to take a son of mine away from Stoneborough; but Norman + is the best judge, and he is the only person who seems to have made any + impression on Tom, so I shall let it be. In fact,” he added, half smiling, + “I don’t know what I could refuse old June.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right!” cried Ethel. “That is so nice! Then, if Norman gets the + scholarship, Tom is to go to Mr. Wilmot first, and then to Eton!” + </p> + <p> + “If Norman gains the scholarship, but that is an if,” said Dr. May, as + though hoping for a loop-hole to escape offending the shade of Bishop + Whichcote. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, you cannot doubt of that!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell, Ethel. He is facile princeps here in his own world, but we + do not know how it may be when he is measured with public schoolmen, who + have had more first-rate tutorship than poor old Hoxton’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! he says so, but I thought that was all his humility.” + </p> + <p> + “Better he should be prepared. If he had had all those advantages—but + it may be as well after all. I always had a hankering to have sent him to + Eton, but your dear mother used to say it was not fair on the others. And + now, to see him striving in order to give the advantage of it to his + little brother! I only hope Master Thomas is worthy of it—but it is + a boy I can’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” said Ethel; “he never seems to say anything he can help, and goes + after Norman without talking to any one else.” + </p> + <p> + “I give him up to Norman’s management,” said Dr. May. “He says the boy is + very clever, but I have not seen it; and, as to more serious matters—However, + I must take it on Norman’s word that he is wishing to learn truth. We made + an utter mistake about him; I don’t know who is to blame for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you told Margaret about Norman’s plan?” asked Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “No; he desired me to say nothing. Indeed, I should not like Tom’s leaving + school to be talked of beforehand.” + </p> + <p> + “Norman said he did not want Flora to hear, because she is so much with + the Hoxton’s, and he said they would all watch him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, and we must keep his secret. What a boy it is! But it is not safe + to say conceited things. We shall have a fall yet, Ethel. Not seventeen, + remember, and brought up at a mere grammar-school.” + </p> + <p> + “But we shall still have the spirit that made him try,” said Ethel, “and + that is the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “And, to tell the truth,” said the doctor, lingering, “for my own part, I + don’t care a rush for it!” and he dashed off to his work, while Ethel + stood laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Papa was so very kind,” said Norman tremulously, when Ethel followed him + to his room, to congratulate him on having gained his father’s assent, of + which he had been more in doubt than she. + </p> + <p> + “And you see he quite approves of the scheme for Tom, except for thinking + it disrespect to Bishop Whichcote. He said he only hoped Tom was worthy of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom!” cried Norman. “Take my word for it, Ethel, Tom will surprise you + all. He will beat us all to nothing, I know!” + </p> + <p> + “If only he can be cured of—” + </p> + <p> + “He will,” said Norman, “when once he has outgrown his frights, and that + he may do at Mr. Wilmot’s, apart from those fellows. When I go up for this + scholarship, you must look after his lessons, and see if you are not + surprised at his construing!” + </p> + <p> + “When you go. It will be in a month!” + </p> + <p> + “He has told no one, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I hardly think he will bear not telling Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—I hate a thing being out of one’s own keeping. I should not so + much dislike Margaret’s knowing, but I won’t have Flora know—mind + that, Ethel,” he said, with disproportionate vehemence. + </p> + <p> + “I only hope Flora will not be vexed. But oh, dear! how nice it will be + when you have it, telling Meta Rivers, and all!” + </p> + <p> + “And this is a fine way of getting it, standing talking here. Not that I + shall—you little know what public schools can do! But that is no + reason against trying.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, then. Only one thing more. You mean that, till further + orders, Margaret should not know?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Norman impatiently. “She won’t take any of Flora’s silly + affronts, and, what is more, she would not care half so much as before + Alan Ernescliffe came.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Norman, Norman! I’m sure—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is what they always say. Everybody can’t be first, and + Ernescliffe has the biggest half of her, I can see.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I did not,” said Ethel, in a mortified voice. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course, it always comes of people having lovers.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am sure I won’t!” exclaimed Ethel. + </p> + <p> + Norman went into a fit of laughing. + </p> + <p> + “You may laugh, Norman, but I will never let papa or any of you be second + to any one!” she cried vehemently. + </p> + <p> + A brotherly home-truth followed: “Nobody asked you, sir, she said!” was + muttered by Norman, still laughing heartily. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Ethel, not in the least offended, “I am very ugly, and very + awkward, but I don’t care. There never can be anybody in all the world + that I shall like half as well as papa, and I am glad no one is ever + likely to make me care less for him and Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay till you are tried,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + Ethel squeezed up her eyes, curled up her nose, showed her teeth in a + horrible grimace, and made a sort of snarl: “Yah! That’s the face I shall + make at them!” and then, with another good-night, ran to her own room. + </p> + <p> + Norman was, to a certain extent, right with regard to Margaret—her + thoughts and interest had been chiefly engrossed by Alan Ernescliffe, and + so far drawn away from her own family, that when the Alcestis was + absolutely gone beyond all reach of letters for the present, Margaret + could not help feeling somewhat of a void, and as if the home concerns + were not so entire an occupation for her mind as formerly. + </p> + <p> + She would fain have thrown herself into them again, but she became + conscious that there was a difference. She was still the object of her + father’s intense tenderness and solicitude, indeed she could not be + otherwise, but it came over her sometimes that she was less necessary to + him than in the first year. He was not conscious of any change, and, + indeed, it hardly amounted to a change, and yet Margaret, lying inactive + and thoughtful, began to observe that the fullness of his confidence was + passing to Ethel. Now and then it would appear that he fancied he had told + Margaret little matters, when he had really told them to Ethel; and it was + Ethel who would linger with him in the drawing-room after the others had + gone up at night, or who would be late at the morning’s reading, and + disarm Miss Winter, by pleading that papa had been talking to her. The + secret they shared together was, of course, the origin of much of this; + but also Ethel was now more entirely the doctor’s own than Margaret could + be after her engagement; and there was a likeness of mind between the + father and daughter that could not but develop more in this year, than in + all Ethel’s life, when she had made the most rapid progress. Perhaps, too, + the doctor looked on Margaret rather as the authority and mistress of his + house, while Ethel was more of a playfellow; and thus, without either + having the least suspicion that the one sister was taking the place of the + other, and without any actual neglect of Margaret, Ethel was his chief + companion. + </p> + <p> + “How excited and anxious Norman looks!” said Margaret, one day, when he + had rushed in at the dinner-hour, asking for his father, and, when he + could not find him, shouting out for Ethel. “I hope there is nothing + amiss. He has looked thin and worn for some time, and yet his work at + school is very easy to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish there maybe nothing wrong there again,” said Flora. “There! + there’s the front door banging! He is off! Ethel!—” stepping to the + door, and calling in her sister, who came from the street door, her hair + blowing about with the wind. “What did Norman want?” + </p> + <p> + “Only to know whether papa had left a note for Dr. Hoxton,” said Ethel, + looking very confused and very merry. + </p> + <p> + “That was not all,” said Flora. “Now don’t be absurd, Ethel—I hate + mysteries.” + </p> + <p> + “Last time I had a secret you would not believe it,” said Ethel, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” exclaimed Flora, “why cannot you tell us at once what is going + on?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I was desired not,” said Ethel. “You will hear it soon enough,” + and she capered a little. + </p> + <p> + “Let her alone, Flora,” said Margaret. “I see there is nothing wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “If she is desired to be silent, there is nothing to be said,” replied + Flora, sitting down again, while Ethel ran away to guard her secret. + </p> + <p> + “Absurd!” muttered Flora. “I cannot imagine why Ethel is always making + mysteries!” + </p> + <p> + “She cannot help other people having confidence in her,” said Margaret + gently. + </p> + <p> + “She need not be so important, then,” said Flora—“always having + private conferences with papa! I do not think it is at all fair on the + rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel is a very superior person,” said Margaret, with half a sigh. + </p> + <p> + Flora might toss her head, but she attempted no denial in words. “And,” + continued Margaret, “if papa does find her his best companion and friend + we ought to be glad of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not call it just,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think it can be helped,” said Margaret: “the best must be + preferred. + </p> + <p> + “As to that, Ethel is often very ridiculous and silly.” + </p> + <p> + “She is improving every day; and you know dear mamma always thought her + the finest character amongst us.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are ready to be left out, and have your third sister always put + before you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Flora, that is not the case. Neither she nor papa would ever be + unfair; but, as she would say herself, what they can’t help, they can’t + help; and, as she grows older, she must surpass me more and more.” + </p> + <p> + “And you like it?” + </p> + <p> + “I like it—when—when I think of papa, and of his dear, noble + Ethel. I do like it, when I am not selfish.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret turned away her head, but presently looked up again. + </p> + <p> + “Only, Flora,” she said, “pray do not say one word of this, on any + account, to Ethel. She is so happy with papa, and I would not for anything + have her think I feel neglected, or had any jealousy.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” thought Flora, “you can give up sweetly, but you have Alan to fall + back upon. Now I, who certainly have the best right, and a great deal more + practical sense—” + </p> + <p> + Flora took Margaret’s advice, and did not reproach Ethel, for a little + reflection convinced her that she should make a silly figure in so doing, + and she did not like altercations. + </p> + <p> + It was the same evening that Norman came in from school with his hands + full of papers, and, with one voice, his father and Ethel exclaimed, “You + have them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes;” and he gave the letter to his father, while Blanche, who had a very + inquisitive pair of eyes, began to read from a paper he placed on the + table. + </p> + <p> + “‘Norman Walter, son of Richard and Margaret May, High Street, Doctor of + Medicine, December 21st, 18—. Thomas Ramsden.’” + </p> + <p> + “What is that for, Norman?” and, as he did not attend, she called Mary to + share her speculations, and spell out the words. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” cried Dr. May, “this is capital! The old doctor seems not to know + how to say enough for you. Have you read it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he only told me he had said something in my favour, and wished me all + success.” + </p> + <p> + “Success!” cried Mary. “Oh, Norman, you are not going to sea too?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” interposed Blanche knowingly—“he is going to be married. I + heard nurse wish her brother success when he was going to marry the + washerwoman with a red face.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mary, “people never are married till they are twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “But I tell you,” persisted Blanche, “people always write like this, in a + great book in church, when they are married. I know, for we always go into + church with Lucy and nurse when there is a wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Norman, I wish you success with the bride you are to court,” said + Dr. May, much diverted with the young ladies’ conjectures. + </p> + <p> + “But is it really?” said Mary, making her eyes as round as full moons. + </p> + <p> + “Is it really?” repeated Blanche. “Oh, dear! is Norman going to be + married? I wish it was to be Meta Rivers, for then I could always ride her + dear little white pony.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell them,” whispered Norman, a good deal out of countenance, as he + leaned over Ethel, and quitted the room. + </p> + <p> + Ethel cried, “Now then!” and looked at her father, while Blanche and Mary + reiterated inquiries—marriage, and going to sea, being the only + events that, in their imagination, the world could furnish. Going to try + for a Balliol scholarship! It was a sad falling off, even if they + understood what it meant. The doctor’s explanations to Margaret had a tone + of apology for having kept her in ignorance, and Flora said few words, but + felt herself injured; she had nearly gone to Mrs. Hoxton that afternoon, + and how strange it would have been if anything had been said to her of her + own brother’s projects, when she was in ignorance. + </p> + <p> + Ethel slipped away to her brother, who was in his own room, surrounded + with books, flushed and anxious, and trying to glance over each subject on + which he felt himself weak. + </p> + <p> + “I shall fail! I know I shall!” was his exclamation. “I wish I had never + thought of it!” + </p> + <p> + “What? did Dr. Hoxton think you not likely to succeed?” cried Ethel, in + consternation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he said I was certain, but what is that? We Stoneborough men only + compare ourselves with each other. I shall break down to a certainty, and + my father will be disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do your best?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that. My best will all go away when it comes to the point.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely not. It did not go away last time you were examined, and why + should it now?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Ethel, you know nothing about it. I have not got up half what + I meant to have done. Here, do take this book—try me whether I know + this properly.” + </p> + <p> + So they went on, Ethel doing her best to help and encourage, and Norman in + an excited state of restless despair, which drove away half his senses and + recollection, and his ideas of the superior powers of public schoolboys + magnifying every moment. They were summoned downstairs to prayers, but + went up again at once, and more than an hour subsequently, when their + father paid one of his domiciliary visits, there they still were, with + their Latin and Greek spread out, Norman trying to strengthen all doubtful + points, but in a desperate desultory manner, that only confused him more + and more, till he was obliged to lay his head down on the table, shut his + eyes, and run his fingers through his hair, before he could recollect the + simplest matter; his renderings alternated with groans, and, cold as was + the room, his cheeks and brow were flushed and burning. + </p> + <p> + The doctor checked all this, by saying, gravely and sternly, “This is not + right, Norman. Where are all your resolutions?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never do it. I ought never to have thought of it! I shall never + succeed!” + </p> + <p> + “What if you do not?” said Dr. May, laying his hand on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “What? why, Tom’s chance lost—you will all be mortified,” said + Norman, hesitating in some confusion. + </p> + <p> + “I will take care of Tom,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “And he will have been foiled!” said Ethel + </p> + <p> + “If he is?” + </p> + <p> + The boy and girl were both silent. + </p> + <p> + “Are you striving for mere victory’s sake, Norman?” continued his father. + </p> + <p> + “I thought not,” murmured Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Successful or not, you will have done your utmost for us. You would not + lose one jot of affection or esteem, and Tom shall not suffer. Is it worth + this agony?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is foolish,” said Norman, with trembling voice, almost as if he + could have burst into tears. He was quite unnerved by the anxiety and toil + with which he had overtasked himself, beyond his father’s knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa!” pleaded Ethel, who could not bear to see him pained. + </p> + <p> + “It is foolish,” continued Dr. May, who felt it was the moment for bracing + severity. “It is rendering you unmanly. It is wrong.” + </p> + <p> + Again Ethel made an exclamation of entreaty. + </p> + <p> + “It is wrong, I know,” repeated Norman; “but you don’t know what it is to + get into the spirit of the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I do not?” said the doctor; “I can tell exactly what you + feel now. If I had not been an idle dog, I should have gone through it all + many more times.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I do?” asked Norman, in a worn-out voice. + </p> + <p> + “Put all this out of your mind, sleep quietly, and don’t open another + book.” + </p> + <p> + Norman moved his head, as if sleep were beyond his power. + </p> + <p> + “I will read you something to calm your tone,” said Dr. May, and he took + up a Prayer-book. “‘Know ye not, that they which run in a race, run all, + but one receiveth the prize? So run that ye may obtain. And every man that + striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things. Now they do it to + obtain a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible.’ And, Norman, that is + not the struggle where the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the + strong; nor the contest, where the conqueror only wins vanity and vexation + of spirit.” + </p> + <p> + Norman had cast down his eyes, and hardly made answer, but the words had + evidently taken effect. The doctor only further bade him good-night, with + a whispered blessing, and, taking Ethel by the hand, drew her away. When + they met the next morning, the excitement had passed from Norman’s manner, + but he looked dejected and resigned. He had made up his mind to lose, and + was not grateful for good wishes; he ought never to have thought, he said, + of competing with men from public schools, and he knew his return of love + of vain-glory deserved that he should fail. However, he was now calm + enough not to be likely to do himself injustice by nervousness, and + Margaret hid hopes that Richard’s steady equable mind would have a + salutary influence. So, commending Tom’s lessons to Ethel, and hearing, + but not marking, countless messages to Richard, he set forth upon his + emprise, while his anxiety seemed to remain as a legacy for those at home. + </p> + <p> + Poor Dr. May confessed that his practice by no means agreed with his + precept, for he could think of nothing else, and was almost as bad as + Norman, in his certainty that the boy would fail from mere nervousness. + Margaret was the better companion for him now, attaching less intensity of + interest to Norman’s success than did Ethel; she was the more able to + compose him, and cheer his hopes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Weary soul, and burdened sore, + Labouring with thy secret load, + Fear not all thy griefs to pour + In this heart, love’s true abode. + Lyra Innocentium. +</pre> + <p> + Tea had just been brought in on the eighth evening from Norman’s + departure, when there was a ring at the bell. There was a start, and look + of expectation. “Only a patient,” said the doctor; but it surely was not + for that reason that he rose with so much alacrity and opened the door, + nor was “Well, old fellow?” the greeting for his patients—so + everybody sprang after him, and beheld something tall taking off a coat, + while a voice said, “I have got it.” + </p> + <p> + The mass of children rushed back to Margaret, screaming, “He has got it!” + and then Aubrey trotted out into the hall again to see what Norman had + got. + </p> + <p> + “A happy face at least,” said Margaret, as he came to her. And that was + not peculiar to Norman. The radiance had shone out upon every one in that + moment, and it was one buzz of happy exclamation, query, and answer—the + only tone of regret when Mary spoke of Harry, and all at once took up the + strain—how glad poor Harry would be. As to the examination, that had + been much less difficult than Norman had expected; in fact, he said, it + was lucky for him that the very subjects had been chosen in which he was + most up—luck which, as the doctor could not help observing, + generally did attend Norman. And Norman had been so happy with Richard; + the kind, wise elder brother had done exactly what was best for him in + soothing his anxiety, and had fully shared his feelings, and exulted in + his success. Margaret had a most triumphant letter, dwelling on the + abilities of the candidates whom Norman had outstripped, and the idea that + every one had conceived of his talent. “Indeed,” wrote Richard, “I fancy + the men had never believed that I could have a clever brother. I am glad + they have seen what Norman can do.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret could not help reading this aloud, and it made Norman blush with + the compunction that Richard’s unselfish pride in him always excited. He + had much to tell of his ecstasy with Oxford. Stoneborough Minster had been + a training in appreciation of its hoary beauty, but the essentially + prosaic Richard had never prepared him for the impression that the + reverend old university made on him, and he was already, heart and soul, + one of her most loyal and loving sons, speaking of his college and of the + whole university as one who had a right of property in them, and looking, + all the time, not elated, but contented, as if he had found his sphere and + was satisfied. He had seen Cheviot, too, and had been very happy in the + renewed friendship; and had been claimed as a cousin by a Balliol man, a + certain Norman Ogilvie, a name well known among the Mays. “And how has Tom + been getting on?” he asked, when he returned to home affairs. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know,” said Ethel. “He will not have my help.” + </p> + <p> + “Not let you help him!” exclaimed Norman. + </p> + <p> + “No. He says he wants no girls,” said Ethel, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Foolish fellow!” said Norman. “I wonder what sort of work he has made!” + </p> + <p> + “Very funny, I should think,” said Ethel, “judging by the verses I could + see.” + </p> + <p> + The little, pale, rough-haired Tom, in his perpetual coating of dust, + softly crept into the room, as if he only wanted to elude observation; but + Mary and Blanche were at once vociferating their news in his ears, though + with little encouragement—he only shook them off abruptly, and would + not answer when they required him to be glad. + </p> + <p> + Norman stretched out his arm, intercepting him as he was making for his + hiding-place behind Dr. May’s arm-chair. + </p> + <p> + “Come, August, how have things gone on?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s your place?” + </p> + <p> + “Thirteenth!” muttered Tom in his throat, and well he might, for two or + three voices cried out that was too bad, and that it was all his own + fault, for not accepting Ethel’s help. He took little heed, but crept to + his corner without another word, and Mary knew she should be thumped if + she should torment him there. + </p> + <p> + Norman left him alone, but the coldness of the little brother for whom he + had worked gave a greater chill to his pleasure than he could have + supposed possible. He would rather have had some cordiality on Tom’s part, + than all the congratulations that met him the next day. + </p> + <p> + He could not rest contented while Tom continued to shrink from him, and he + was the more uneasy when, on Saturday morning, no calls from Mary availed + to find the little boy, and bring him to the usual reading and Catechism. + </p> + <p> + Margaret decided that they must begin without him, and poor Mary’s verse + was read, in consequence, with a most dolorous tone. As soon as the books + were shut, she ran off, and a few words passed among the elder ones about + the truant—Flora opining that the Andersons had led him away; Ethel + suggesting that his gloom must arise from his not being well; and Margaret + looking wistfully at Norman, and saying she feared they had judged much + amiss last spring. Norman heard in silence, and walked thoughtfully into + the garden. Presently he caught Mary’s voice in expostulation: “How could + you not come to read?” + </p> + <p> + “Girls’ work!” growled another voice, out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “But Norman, and Richard, and Harry, always come to the reading. Everybody + ought.” + </p> + <p> + Norman, who was going round the shrubs that concealed the speakers from + him, here lost their voices, but, as he emerged in front of the old + tool-house, he heard a little scream from Mary, and, at the same moment, + she darted back, and fell over a heap of cabbage-stumps in front of the + old tool-house. It was no small surprise to her to be raised by him, and + tenderly asked whether she were hurt. She was not hurt, but she could not + speak without crying, and when Norman begged to hear what was the matter, + and where Tom was, she would only plead for him—that he did not + intend to hurt her, and that she had been teasing him. What had he done to + frighten her? Oh! he had only run at her with a hoe, because she was + troublesome; she did not mind it, and Norman must not—and she clung + to him as if to keep him back, while he pursued his researches in the + tool-house, where, nearly concealed by a great bushel-basket, lurked + Master Thomas, crouching down, with a volume of Gil Blas in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You here, Tom! What have you hidden yourself here for? What can make you + so savage to Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “She should not bother me,” said Tom sulkily. + </p> + <p> + Norman sent Mary away, pacifying her by promises that he would not revenge + her quarrel upon Tom, and then, turning the basket upside down, and + perching himself astride on it, he began: “That is the kindest, most + forgiving little sister I ever did see. What possesses you to treat her so + ill?” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn’t going to hurt her.” + </p> + <p> + “But why drive her away? Why don’t you come to read?” No answer; and + Norman, for a moment, felt as if Tom were really hopelessly + ill-conditioned and sullen, but he persevered in restraining his desire to + cuff the ill-humour out of him, and continued, “Come! there’s something + wrong, and you will never be better till it is out. Tell me—don’t be + afraid. Those fellows have been at you again?” + </p> + <p> + He took Tom by the arm to draw him nearer, but a cry and start of pain + were the result. “So they have licked you? Eh? What have they been doing?” + </p> + <p> + “They said they would spiflicate me if I told!” sighed Tom. + </p> + <p> + “They shall never do anything to you;” and, by-and-by, a sobbing + confession was drawn forth, muttered at intervals, as low as if Tom + expected the strings of onions to hear and betray him to his foes. Looking + on him as a deserter, these town-boys had taken advantage of his brother’s + absence to heap on him every misery they could inflict. There had been a + wager between Edward Anderson and Sam Axworthy as to what Tom could be + made to do, and his personal timidity made him a miserable victim, not + merely beaten and bruised, but forced to transgress every rule of right + and wrong that had been enforced on his conscience. On Sunday, they had + profited by the absence of their dux to have a jollification at a little + public-house, not far from the playing-fields; and here had Tom been + dragged in, forced to partake with them, and frightened with threats that + he had treated them all, and was liable to pay the whole bill, which, of + course, he firmly believed, as well as that he should be at least half + murdered if he gave his father any suspicion that the whole had not been + consumed by himself. Now, though poor Tom’s conscience had lost many + scruples during the last spring, the offence, into which he had been + forced, was too heinous to a child brought up as he had been to be + palliated even in his own eyes. The profanation of Sunday, and the + carousal in a public-house, had combined to fill him with a sense of shame + and degradation, which was the real cause that he felt himself unworthy to + come and read with his sisters. His grief and misery were extreme, and + Norman’s indignation was such as could find no utterance. He sat silent, + quivering with anger, and clenching his fingers over the handle of the + hoe. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it!” sighed Tom. “None of you will ever speak to me again!” + </p> + <p> + “You! Why, August, man, I have better hopes of you than ever. You are more + really sorry now than ever you were before.” + </p> + <p> + “I had never been at the Green Man before,” said poor Tom, feeling his + future life stained. + </p> + <p> + “You never will again!” + </p> + <p> + “When you are gone—” and the poor victim’s voice died away. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, you will not stay after me. It is settled that when I go to Balliol, + you leave Stoneborough, and go to Mr. Wilmot as pupil. Those scamps shall + never have you in their clutches again.” + </p> + <p> + It did not produce the ecstasy Norman had expected. The boy still sat on + the ground, staring at his brother, as if the good news hardly penetrated + the gloom; and, after a disappointing silence, recurred to the most + immediate cause of distress: “Eight shillings and tenpence halfpenny! + Norman, if you would only lend it to me, you shall have all my tin till I + have made it up—sixpence a week, and half-a-crown on New Year’s + Day.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to pay Mr. Axworthy’s reckoning,” said Norman, rather + angrily. “You will never be better till you have told my father the + whole.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think they will send in the bill to my father?” asked Tom, in + alarm. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed! that is the last thing they will do,” said Norman; “but I + would not have you come to him only for such a sneaking reason.” + </p> + <p> + “But the girls would hear it. Oh, if I thought Mary and Margaret would + ever hear it—Norman, I can’t—” + </p> + <p> + Norman assured him that there was not the slightest reason that these + passages should ever come to the knowledge of his sisters. Tom was + excessively afraid of his father, but he could not well be more wretched + than he was already; and he was brought to assent when Norman showed him + that he had never been happy since the affair of the blotting-paper, when + his father’s looks and tones had become objects of dread to his guilty + conscience. Was not the only means of recovering a place in papa’s esteem + to treat him with confidence? + </p> + <p> + Tom answered not, and would only shudder when his brother took upon him to + declare that free confession would gain pardon even for the doings at the + Green Man. + </p> + <p> + Tom had grown stupefied and passive, and his sole dependence was on + Norman, so, at last, he made no opposition when his brother offered to + conduct him to his father and speak for him. The danger now was that Dr. + May should not be forthcoming, and the elder brother was as much relieved, + as the younger was dismayed, to see, through the drawing-room window, that + he was standing beside Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, can you come and speak to me,” said Norman, “at the door?” + </p> + <p> + “Coming! What now?” said the doctor, entering the hall. “What, Tom, my + boy, what is it?” as he saw the poor child, white, cold, almost sick with + apprehension, with every pulse throbbing, and looking positively ill. He + took the chilly, damp hand, which shook nervously, and would fain have + withdrawn itself. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my dear, let us see what is amiss;” and before Tom knew what he was + doing, he had seated him on his knee, in the arm-chair in the study, and + was feeling his pulse. “There, rest your head! Has it not been aching all + day?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think he is ill,” said Norman; “but there is something he thinks + I had better tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Tom would fain have been on his feet, yet the support of that shoulder was + inexpressibly comfortable to his aching temples, and he could not but wait + for the shock of being roughly shaken and put down. So, as his brother + related what had occurred, he crouched and trembled more and more on his + father’s breast, till, to his surprise, he found the other arm passed + round him in support, drawing him more tenderly close. + </p> + <p> + “My poor little fellow!” said Dr. May, trying to look into the drooping + face, “I grieve to have exposed you to such usage as this! I little + thought it of Stoneborough fellows!” + </p> + <p> + “He is very sorry,” said Norman, much distressed by the condition of the + culprit. + </p> + <p> + “I see it—I see it plainly,” said Dr. May. “Tommy, my boy, why + should you tremble when you are with me?” + </p> + <p> + “He has been in great dread of your being displeased.” + </p> + <p> + “My boy, do you not know how I forgive you?” Tom clung round his neck, as + if to steady himself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa! I thought you would never—” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, you need never have thought so, my boy! What have I done that you + should fear me?” + </p> + <p> + Tom did not speak, but nestled up to him with more confidence. “There! + that’s better! Poor child! what he must have suffered! He was not fit for + the place! I had thought him looking ill. Little did I guess the cause.” + </p> + <p> + “He says his head has ached ever since Sunday,” said Norman; “and I + believe he has hardly eaten or slept properly since.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall never be under their power again! Thanks to you, Norman. Do you + hear that, Tommy?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was hardly audible. The little boy was already almost asleep, + worn out with all he had undergone. Norman began to clear the sofa, that + they might lay him down, but his father would not hear of disturbing him, + and, sending Norman away, sat still for more than an hour, until the child + slowly awoke, and scarcely recalling what had happened, stood up between + his father’s knees, rubbing his eyes, and looking bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “You are better now, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would be very angry,” slowly murmured Tom, as the past + returned on him. + </p> + <p> + “Never, while you are sorry for your faults, and own them freely.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad I did,” said the boy, still half asleep. “I did not know you + would be so kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Tom, I fear it was as much my fault as yours that you did not know + it. But, my dear, there is a pardon that can give you better peace than + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” muttered Tom, looking down—“I think I could say my + prayers again now, if—” + </p> + <p> + “If what, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “If you would help me, as mamma used—” + </p> + <p> + There could be but one response to this speech. + </p> + <p> + Tom was still giddy and unwell, his whole frame affected by the troubles + of the last week, and Dr. May arranged him on the sofa, and desired him to + be quiet, offering to send Mary to be his companion. Tom was languidly + pleased, but renewed his entreaty, that his confession might be a secret + from his sisters. Dr. May promised, and Mary, quite satisfied at being + taken into favour, asked no questions, but spent the rest of the morning + in playing at draughts with him, and in having inflicted on her the + history of the Bloody Fire King’s Ghost—a work of Tom’s imagination, + which he was wont to extemporise, to the extreme terror of much enduring + Mary. + </p> + <p> + When Dr. May had called Mary, he next summoned Norman, who found him in + the hall, putting on his hat, and looking very stern and determined. + </p> + <p> + “Norman!” said he hastily, “don’t say a word—it must be done—Hoxton + must hear of this.” + </p> + <p> + Norman’s face expressed utter consternation. + </p> + <p> + “It is not your doing. It is no concern of yours,” said Dr. May, walking + impetuously into the garden. “I find my boy ill, broken down, shattered—it + is the usage of this crew of fellows—what right have I to conceal it—leave + other people’s sons to be so served?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe they did so to Tom out of ill-will to me,” said Norman, “and + because they thought he had ratted.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! don’t argue against it,” said Dr. May, almost petulantly. “I have + stood a great deal to oblige you, but I cannot stand this. When it is a + matter of corruption, base cruelty—no, Norman, it is not right—not + another word!” + </p> + <p> + Norman’s words had not been many, but he felt a conviction that, in spite + of the dismay and pain to himself, Dr. May ought to meet with submission + to his judgment, and he acquiesced by silence. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see,” continued the doctor, “if they act thus, when your back + is turned, what is to happen next half? ‘Tis not for Tom’s sake, but how + could we justify it to ourselves, to expose other boys to this usage?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norman, not without a sigh. “I suppose it must be.” + </p> + <p> + “That is right,” said Dr. May, as if much relieved. “I knew you must see + it in that light. I do not mean to abuse your confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” answered Norman warmly. + </p> + <p> + “But you see yourself, that where the welfare of so many is at stake, it + would be wickedness—yes, wickedness—to be silent. Could I see + that little fellow prostrated, trembling in my arms, and think of those + scamps inflicting the same on other helpless children—away from + their homes!” + </p> + <p> + “I see, I see!” said Norman, carried along by the indignation and + tenderness that agitated his father’s voice in his vehemence—“it is + the only thing to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be sharing the guilt to hide it,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Norman, still reluctantly. “What do you wish me to do? + You see, as dux, I know nothing about it. It happened while I was away.” + </p> + <p> + “True, true,” said his father. “You have learned it as brother, not as + senior boy. Yes, we had better have you out of the matter. It is I who + complain of their usage of my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Norman, with gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “You have not told me the names of these fellows! No, I had best not know + them.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it might make a difference,” hesitated Norman. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I will not hear them. It ought to make none. The fact is the + same, be they who they may.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor let himself out at the garden gate, and strode off at a rapid + pace, conscious perhaps, in secret, that if he did not at once yield to + the impulse of resentment, good nature would overpower the sense of + justice. His son returned to the house with a heavy sigh, yet honouring + the generosity that had respected his scruples, when merely his own + worldly loss was involved, but set them aside when the good of others was + concerned. By-and-by Dr. May reappeared. The head-master had been + thoroughly roused to anger, and had begged at once to examine May junior, + for whom his father was now come. + </p> + <p> + Tom was quite unprepared for such formidable consequences of his + confession, and began by piteous tears and sobs, and when these had, with + some difficulty, been pacified, he proved to be really so unwell and + exhausted, that his father could not take him to Minster Street, and was + obliged to leave him to his brother’s keeping, while he returned to the + school. + </p> + <p> + Upon this, Dr. Hoxton came himself, and the sisters were extremely excited + and alarmed by the intelligence that he was in the study with papa and + Tom. + </p> + <p> + Then away went the gentlemen; and Mary was again called to comfort Tom, + who, broken down into the mere longing for sympathy, sobbed out all his + troubles to her, while her eyes expanded more and more in horror, and her + soft heart giving way, she cried quite as pitifully, and a great deal more + loudly; and so the other sisters learned the whole, and Margaret was ready + for her father when he came in, in the evening, harassed and sorrowful. + His anger was all gone now, and he was excessively grieved at finding that + the ringleaders, Samuel Axworthy and Edward Anderson, could, in Dr. + Hoxton’s opinion, receive no sentence but expulsion, which was to be + pronounced on them on Monday. + </p> + <p> + Sam Axworthy was the son of a low, uneducated man, and his best chance had + been the going to this school; but he was of a surly, obstinate temper, + and showed so little compunction, that even such superabundant kindness as + Dr. May’s could not find compassion for him; especially since it had + appeared that Tom had been by no means the only victim, and that he had + often been the promoter of the like malpractices, which many boys were + relieved to be forced to expose. + </p> + <p> + For Edward Anderson, however, or rather for his mother, Dr. May was very + sorry, and had even interceded for his pardon; but Dr. Hoxton, though slow + to be roused, was far less placable than the other doctor, and would not + hear of anything but the most rigorous justice. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mrs. Anderson, with her pride in her children!” Flora spoke it with + a shade of contemptuous pity, but it made her father groan. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never be able to look in her face again! I shall never see that + boy without feeling that I have ruined him!” + </p> + <p> + “He needed nobody to do that for him,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “With every disadvantage!” continued Dr. May; “unable even to remember his + father! Why could I not be more patient and forbearing?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa!” was the general cry—Norman’s voice giving decision to + the sisters’ exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Margaret, “the shock may be the best thing for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, Margaret,” said her father. “Sometimes such a thing is the first + that shows what a course of evil really is.” + </p> + <p> + “They are an affectionate family too,” said Margaret, “and his mother’s + grief may have an effect on him.” + </p> + <p> + “If she does not treat him as an injured hero,” said Flora; “besides, I + see no reason for regret. These are but two, and the school is not to be + sacrificed to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norman; “I believe that Ashe will be able to keep much better + order without Axworthy. It is much better as it is, but Harry will be very + sorry to hear it, and I wish this half was over.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Mrs. Anderson! her shower of notes rent the heart of the one doctor, + but were tossed carelessly aside by the other. On that Sunday, Norman held + various conversations with his probable successor, Ashe, a gentle, + well-disposed boy, hitherto in much dread of the post of authority, but + owning that, in Axworthy’s absence, the task would be comparatively easy, + and that Anderson would probably originate far less mischief. + </p> + <p> + Edward Anderson himself fell in Norman’s way in the street, and was + shrinking aside, when a word, of not unfriendly greeting, caused him to + quicken his steps, and say, hesitatingly, “I say, how is August?” + </p> + <p> + “Better, thank you; he will be all right in a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “I say, we would not have bullied him so, if he had not been in such a + fright at nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say not.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean it all, but that sort of thing makes a fellow go on,” + continued Edward, hanging down his head, very sorrowful and downcast. + </p> + <p> + “If it had only been fair bullying; but to take him to that place—to + teach him falsehood—” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + Edward’s eyes were full of tears; he almost owned the whole. He had not + thought of such things, and then Axworthy—It was more evident from + manner than words that the boy did repent and was greatly overcome, both + by his own disgrace and his mother’s distress, wishing earnestly to redeem + his character, and declaring, from the bottom of his heart, that he would + avoid his former offences. He was emboldened at last to say, with + hesitation, “Could not you speak to Dr. Hoxton for me?” + </p> + <p> + “My father has said all he could in your behalf.” + </p> + <p> + Edward’s eye glanced towards Norman in wonder, as he recollected that the + Mays must know that a word from him would have saved Norman from unjust + punishment and the loss of the scholarship, and he said, “Good-night,” and + turned aside to his own home, with a heavy sigh. + </p> + <p> + Norman took another turn, looked up at the sky, twisted his hands together + in perplexity, mumbled something about hating to do a thing when it was + all for no use, and then marched off towards Minster Street, with a pace + like his father’s the day before. + </p> + <p> + When he came forth again from Dr. Hoxton’s study, he did not believe that + his intercession had produced the least effect, and there was a sense of + vexation at the position which he had assumed. He went home, and said + nothing on the subject; but when, on Monday, the school was assembled, and + the judgment announced, it was Axworthy alone whose friends had been + advised to remove him. + </p> + <p> + Anderson received a severe punishment, as did all those who had shared in + the revel at the Green Man. Even Tom, and another little boy, who had been + likewise drawn in, were obliged to stay within narrow bounds, and to learn + heavy impositions; and a stern reprimand and exhortation were given to the + school collectively. Anderson, who had seen from the window that turn + towards Minster Street, drew his own conclusions, and was not insensible + to the generosity that had surpassed his hopes, though to his faltering + attempt at thanks, Norman replied that he did not believe it was owing to + him, and never exposed himself to Flora’s wonder by declaring at home what + he had done. + </p> + <p> + So the last weeks of the half-year passed away with the boys in a subdued, + but hopeful manner, and the reformation, under Norman’s auspices, + progressed so well, that Ashe might fairly expect to reap the benefit of + the discipline, established at so much cost. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot had looked on, and given his help, but he was preparing to + leave Stoneborough, and there was great concern at the parting with such a + friend. Ethel, especially, mourned the loss to Cocksmoor, and, for though + hers had been the executive part, his had been the head, and he was almost + equally grieved to go from the newly-begun work. + </p> + <p> + Margaret lamented the loss of her kind counsellor, and the ready hearer of + her anxieties for the children. Writing could ill supply the place of + their conversations, and she feared likewise that her father would feel + the want of his companionship. The promise of visits, and the intercourse + kept up by Tom’s passing to and fro, was the best consolation. + </p> + <p> + Poor Margaret had begun to flag, both in strength and spirits, as winter + approached, but there came a revival in the shape of “Ship Letters!” Alan + wrote cheerfully and graphically, with excellent accounts of Harry, who, + on his side, sent very joyous and characteristic despatches, only wishing + that he could present Mary with all the monkeys and parrots he had seen at + Rio, as well as the little ruby-crested humming-birds, that always + reminded him of Miss Rivers. + </p> + <p> + With the Christmas holidays, Hector Ernescliffe came from Eton, as to a + home, and was received by Margaret as a sort of especial charge. It was + pretty to see how he turned to her as something peculiarly his own, and + would sit on a footstool by her, letting himself be drawn into confidence, + and dwelling on his brother’s past doings, and on future schemes for + Maplewood. For the rest, he restored to the house the atmosphere of boy, + which had somewhat departed with Harry. Mary, who had begun to be tamed + down, ran more wild than ever, to the utter despair of Miss Winter; and + Tom, now that his connection with the Whichcote foundation was over, and + he was no more cowed by the sight of his tyrants, came out in a new light. + He put on his boy-nature, rioted like the rest, acquired colour in his + cheeks, divested his jacket of perpetual dust, had his hair cut, brushed + up a crest on his head, and ran about no longer a little abject, but a + merry lad. + </p> + <p> + Ethel said it was a change from Horrid-locks to Harfagre; Margaret said + little, but, like her father, she blessed Norman in her heart for having + given back the boy to his father’s confidence, and saved him so far from + the terrible course of deceit and corruption. She could not much take to + heart the mad exploits of the so-called boys, even though she spent three + hours in heart-beatings on Christmas Eve, when Hector, Mary, Tom, Blanche, + and the dog Toby, were lost the whole day. However, they did come back at + six o’clock, having been deluded by an old myth of George Larkins, into + starting for a common, three miles beyond Cocksmoor, in search of + mistletoe, with scarlet berries, and yellow holly, with leaves like a + porcupine! Failing these wonders, they had been contenting themselves with + scarlet holly, in the Drydale plantations, when a rough voice exclaimed, + “Who gave you leave to take that?” whereupon Tom had plunged into a + thicket, and nearly “scratched out both his eyes”; but Hector boldly + standing his ground, with Blanche in his hand, the woodman discovered that + here was the Miss Mary, of whom his little girls talked so much, thereupon + cut down the choicest boughs, and promised to leave a full supply at Dr. + May’s. Margaret could have been angry at the taking the young ladies on so + mad a scheme, but then Mary was so happy, and as to Hector, how scold him, + when he had lifted Blanche over every ditch, and had carried her home one + mile on his back, and another, queen’s-cushion fashion, between him and + Mary? + </p> + <p> + Flora, meanwhile, went her own way. The desire of compensating for what + had passed with Norman, led to great civilities from Dr. and Mrs. Hoxton, + which nobody was at liberty to receive except Flora. Pretty, graceful, and + pleasing, she was a valuable companion to a gentle little, inane lady, + with more time and money than she knew what to do with; and Mrs. Hoxton, + who was of a superior grade to the Stoneborough ladies in general, was + such a chaperon as Flora was glad to secure. Dr. May’s old loyal feelings + could not help regarding her notice of his daughter as a favour and + kindness, and Margaret could find no tangible objections, nor any + precedent from her mother’s conduct, even had any one had the power to + interfere with one so quiet, reasonable, and determined as Flora. + </p> + <p> + So the intimacy became closer and closer, and as the winter passed on, + Flora gradually became established as the dear friend and assistant, + without whom Mrs. Hoxton could give no party. Further, Flora took the + grand step of setting up a copper-plate and cards of “Miss Flora May,” + went out frequently on morning calls with Mrs. Hoxton and her bay horses, + and when Dr. May refused his share of invitations to dinner with the + neighbours in the county, Flora generally found that she could go under + the Hoxtons’ guardianship. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART II + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now have I then eke this condicion + That above all the flouris in the mede; + Then love I most these flouris white and rede, + Soche that men callin daisies in our town. + To them have I so great affection, + As I said erst, when comin is the Maie, + That in my bed there dawith me no daie + That I am up and walking in the mede, + To see this floure agenst the sunne sprede.—CHAUCER. +</pre> + <p> + “That is better!” said Margaret, contemplating a butterfly of the penwiper + class, whose constitution her dexterous needle had been rendering less + rickety than Blanche had left it. + </p> + <p> + Margaret still lay on the sofa, and her complexion had assumed the dead + white of habitual ill-health. There was more languor of manner, and her + countenance, when at rest, and not under the eye of her father, had a + sadness of expression, as if any hopes that she might once have + entertained were fading away. The years of Alan Ernescliffe’s absence that + had elapsed had rather taken from her powers than added to them. + Nevertheless, the habit of cheerfulness and sympathy had not deserted her, + and it was with a somewhat amused glance that she turned towards Ethel, as + she heard her answer by a sigh. + </p> + <p> + These years had dealt more kindly with Etheldred’s outward appearance. + They had rounded her angles, softened her features, and tinged her cheeks + with a touch of red, that took off from the surrounding sallowness. She + held herself better, had learned to keep her hair in order, and the more + womanly dress, plain though it was, improved her figure more than could + have been hoped in the days of her lank, gawky girlhood. No one could call + her pretty, but her countenance had something more than ever pleasing in + the animated and thoughtful expression on those marked features. She was + sitting near the window, with a book, a dictionary, and pencil, as she + replied to Margaret, with the sigh that made her sister smile. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Ethel! I condole with you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I wonder at you!” said Ethel, “especially as Flora and Mrs. Hoxton + say it is all for your sake;” then, nettled by Margaret’s laugh, “Such a + nice occupation for her, poor thing, as if you were Mrs. Hoxton, and had + no resource but fancy-work.” + </p> + <p> + “You know I am base enough to be so amused,” said Margaret; “but, + seriously, Ethel dear, I cannot bear to see you so much hurt by it. I did + not know you were really grieved.” + </p> + <p> + “Grieved! I am ashamed—sickened!” cried Ethel vehemently. “Poor + Cocksmoor! As soon as anything is done there, Flora must needs go about + implying that we have set some grand work in hand, and want only means—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Ethel; Flora does not boast.” + </p> + <p> + “No, she does not boast. I wish she did! That would be straightforward and + simple; but she has too good taste for that—so she does worse—she + tells a little, and makes that go a long way, as if she were keeping back + a great deal! You don’t know how furious it makes me!” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel!” + </p> + <p> + “So,” said Ethel, disregarding, “she stirs up all Stoneborough to hear + what the Miss Mays are doing at Cocksmoor. So the Ladies’ Committee must + needs have their finger in! Much they cared for the place when it was wild + and neglected! But they go to inspect Cherry and her school—Mrs. + Ledwich and all—and, back they come, shocked—no system, no + order, the mistress untrained, the school too small, with no apparatus! + They all run about in despair, as if we had ever asked them to help us. + And so Mrs. Hoxton, who cares for poor children no more than for + puppy-dogs, but who can’t live without useless work, and has filled her + house as full of it as it can hold, devises a bazaar—a field for her + trumpery, and a show-off for all the young ladies; and Flora treats it + like an inspiration! Off they trot, to the old Assembly Rooms. I trusted + that the smallness of them would have knocked it on the head; but, still + worse, Flora’s talking of it makes Mr. Rivers think it our pet scheme; so, + what does he do but offer his park, and so we are to have a regular fancy + fair, and Cocksmoor School will be founded in vanity and frivolity! But I + believe you like it!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure of my own feeling,” said Margaret. “It has been settled + without our interposition, and I have never been able to talk it over + calmly with you. Papa does not seem to disapprove.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ethel. “He will only laugh, and say it will spare him a great + many of Mrs. Hoxton’s nervous attacks. He thinks of it nearly as I do, at + the bottom, but I cannot get him to stop it, nor even to say he does not + wish Flora to sell.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not understand that you really had such strong objections,” said + Margaret. “I thought it was only as a piece of folly, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And interference with my Cocksmoor?” said Ethel. “I had better own to + what may be wrong personal feeling at first.” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly call it wrong,” said Margaret tenderly, “considering what + Cocksmoor is to you, and what the Ladies’ Committee is.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret, if the lawful authority—if a good clergyman would + only come, how willingly would I work under him! But Mrs. Ledwich and—it + is like having all the Spaniards and savages spoiling Robinson Crusoe’s + desert island!” + </p> + <p> + “It is not come to that yet,” said Margaret; “but about the fancy fair. We + all know that the school is very much wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I hoped to wait in patience and perseverance, and do it at + last.” + </p> + <p> + “All yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Margaret! you know I was glad of Alan’s help.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so!” said Margaret. “You need not make a favour of that!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but, don’t you see, that came as almsgiving, in the way which brings + a blessing. We want nothing to make us give money and work to Cocksmoor. + We do all we can already; and I don’t want to get a fine bag or a + ridiculous pincushion in exchange!” + </p> + <p> + “Not you, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for the rest. If they like to offer their money, well and good, the + better for them; but why must they not give it to Cocksmoor—but for + that unnatural butterfly of Blanche’s, with black pins for horns, that + they will go and sell at an extortionate rate.” + </p> + <p> + “The price will be given for Cocksmoor’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Margaret. Do you think it is for Cocksmoor’s sake that Lady Leonora + Langdale and her fine daughter come down from London? Would Mrs. Hoxton + spend the time in making frocks for Cocksmoor children that she does in + cutting out paper, and stuffing glass bottles with it? Let people be + honest—alms, or pleasure, or vanity! let them say which they mean; + but don’t make charity the excuse for the others; and, above all, don’t + make my poor Cocksmoor the victim of it.” + </p> + <p> + “This is very severe,” said Margaret, pausing, almost confounded. “Do you + think no charity worth having but what is given on unmixed motives? Who, + then, could give?” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret—we see much evil arise in the best-planned institutions; + nay, in what are not human. Don’t you think we ought to do our utmost to + have no flaw in the foundation? Schools are not such perfect places that + we can build them without fear, and, if the means are to be raised by a + bargain for amusement—if they are to come from frivolity instead of + self-denial, I am afraid of them. I do not mean that Cocksmoor has not + been the joy of my life, and of Mary’s, but that was not because we did it + for pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Margaret, sighing, “you found pleasure by the way. But why did + you not say all this to Flora?” + </p> + <p> + “It is of no use to talk to Flora,” said Ethel; “she would say it was + high-flown and visionary. Oh! she wants it for the bazaar’s own sake, and + that is one reason why I hate it.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Ethel!” + </p> + <p> + “I do believe it was very unfortunate for Flora that the Hoxtons took to + patronising her, because Norman would not be patronised. Ever since it + began, her mind has been full of visitings, and parties, and county + families, and she has left off the home usefulness she used to care + about.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are old enough for that,” said Margaret. “It would be hard to + keep Flora at home, now that you can take her place, and do not care for + going out. One of us must be the representative Miss May, you know, and + keep up the civilities; and you may think yourself lucky it is not you.” + </p> + <p> + “If it was only that, I should not care, but I may as well tell you, + Margaret, for it is a weight to me. It is not the mere pleasure in + gaieties—Flora cares for them, in themselves, as little as I do—nor + is it neighbourliness, as a duty to others, for, you may observe, she + always gets off any engagement to the Wards, or any of the town folk, to + whom it would be a gratification to have her—she either eludes them, + or sends me. The thing is, that she is always trying to be with the great + people, the county set, and I don’t think that is the safe way of going + on.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret mused sadly. “You frighten me, Ethel! I cannot say it is not so, + and these are so like the latent faults that dear mamma’s letter spoke of—” + </p> + <p> + Ethel sat meditating, and at last said, “I wish I had not told you! I + don’t always believe it myself, and it is so unkind, and you will make + yourself unhappy too. I ought not to have thought it of her! Think of her + ever-ready kindness and helpfulness; her pretty courteous ways to the very + least; her obligingness and tact!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Margaret, “she is one of the kindest people there is, and I am + sure that she thought the gaining funds for Cocksmoor was the best thing + to be done, that you would be pleased, and a great deal of pleasant + occupation provided for us all.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the bright side, the surface side,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “And not an untrue one,” said Margaret; “Meta will not be vain, and will + work the more happily for Cocksmoor’s sake. Mary and Blanche, poor Mrs. + Boulder, and many good ladies who hitherto have not known how to help + Cocksmoor, will do so now with a good will, and though it is not what we + should have chosen, I think we had better take it in good part.” + </p> + <p> + “You think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed I do. If you go about with that dismal face and strong + disapproval, it will really seem as if it was the having your dominion + muddled with that you dislike. Besides, it is putting yourself forward to + censure what is not absolutely wrong in itself, and that cannot be + desirable.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ethel, “but I cannot help being sorry for Cocksmoor. I thought + patience would prepare the way, and the means be granted in good time, + without hastiness—only earnestness.” + </p> + <p> + “You had made a picture for yourself,” said Margaret gently. “Yes, we all + make pictures for ourselves, and we are the foremost figures in them; but + they are taken out of our hands, and we see others putting in rude + touches, and spoiling our work, as it seems; but, by-and-by, we shall see + that it is all guided.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel sighed. “Then having protested to my utmost against this concern, + you think I ought to be amiable about it.” + </p> + <p> + “And to let poor Mary enjoy it. She would be so happy, if you would not + bewilder her by your gloomy looks, and keep her to the hemming of your + endless glazed calico bonnet strings.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old Mary! I thought that was by her own desire.” + </p> + <p> + “Only her dutiful allegiance to you; and, as making pincushions is nearly + her greatest delight, it is cruel to make her think it, in some mysterious + way, wrong and displeasing to you.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel laughed, and said, “I did not think Mary was in such awe of me. I’ll + set her free, then. But, Margaret, do you really think I ought to give up + my time to it?” + </p> + <p> + “Could you not just let them have a few drawings, or a little bit of your + company work—just enough for you not to annoy every one, and seem to + be testifying against them? You would not like to vex Meta.” + </p> + <p> + “It will go hard, if I do not tell Meta my mind. I cannot bear to see her + deluded.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think she is,” said Margaret; “but she does not set her face + against what others wish. As papa says of his dear little humming-bird, + she takes the honey, and leaves the poison.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; amid all that enjoyment, she is always choosing the good, and + leaving the evil; always sacrificing something, and then being happy in + the sacrifice!” + </p> + <p> + “No one would guess it was a sacrifice, it is so joyously done—least + of all Meta herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Her coming home from London was exactly a specimen of that sacrifice—and + no sacrifice,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” said Norman, who had come up to the window unobserved, + and had been listening to their few last sentences. + </p> + <p> + “Did not you hear of it? It was a sort of material turning away from + vanity that made me respect the little rival Daisy, as much as I always + admired her. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” said Norman. “When was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Last spring. You know Mr. Rivers is always ill in London: indeed, papa + says it would be the death of him; but Lady Leonora Langdale thinks it + dreadful that Meta should not go to all the gaieties; and last year, when + Mrs. Larpent was gone, she insisted on her coming to stay with her for the + season. Now Meta thought it wrong to leave her father alone, and wanted + not to have gone at all, but, to my surprise, Margaret advised her to + yield, and go for some short fixed time.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Margaret; “as all her elders thought it right, I did not think + we could advise her to refuse absolutely. Besides, it was a promise.” + </p> + <p> + “She declared she would only stay three weeks, and the Langdales were + satisfied, thinking that, once in London, they should keep her. They + little knew Meta, with her pretty ways of pretending that her resolution + is only spoiled-child wilfulness. None of you quite trusted her, did you, + Margaret? Even papa was almost afraid, though he wanted her very much to + be at home; for poor Mr. Rivers was so low and forlorn without her, though + he would not let her know, because Lady Leonora had persuaded him to think + it was all for her good.” + </p> + <p> + “What did they do with her in London?” asked Norman. + </p> + <p> + “They did their utmost,” said Ethel. “They made engagements for her, and + took her to parties and concerts—those she did enjoy very much and + she had lessons in drawing and music, but whenever she wanted to see any + exhibitions, or do anything, they always said there was time to spare. I + believe it was very charming, and she would have been very glad to stay, + but she never would promise, and she was always thinking of her positive + duty at home. She seemed afterwards to think of her wishes to remain + almost as if they had been a sin; but she said—dear little Meta—that + nothing had ever helped her so much as that she used to say to herself, + whenever she was going out, ‘I renounce the world.’ It came to a crisis at + last, when Lady Leonora wanted her to be presented—the Drawing-Room + was after the end of her three weeks—and she held out against it; + though her aunt laughed at her, and treated her as if she was a silly, shy + child. At last, what do you think Meta did? She went to her uncle, Lord + Cosham, and appealed to him to say whether there was the least necessity + for her to go to court.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she gained the day?” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “He was delighted with that spirited, yet coaxing way of hers, and admired + her determination. He told papa so himself—for you must know, when + he heard all Meta had to say, he called her a very good girl, and said he + would take her home himself on the Saturday she had fixed, and spend + Sunday at Abbotstoke. Oh! he was perfectly won by her sweet ways. Was not + it lucky? for before this Lady Leonora had written to Mr. Rivers, and + obtained from him a letter, which Meta had the next day, desiring her to + stay for the Drawing-Room. But Meta knew well enough how it was, and was + not to be conquered that way; so she said she must go home to entertain + her uncle, and that if her papa really wished it, she would return on + Monday.” + </p> + <p> + “Knowing well that Mr. Rivers would be only too glad to keep her.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so. How happy they both did look, when they came in here on their + way from the station where he had met her! How she danced in, and how she + sparkled with glee!” said Margaret, “and poor Mr. Rivers was quite + tremulous with the joy of having her back, hardly able to keep from + fondling her every minute, and coming again into the room after they had + taken leave, to tell me that his little girl had preferred her home, and + her poor old father, to all the pleasures in London. Oh, I was so glad + they came! That was a sight that did one good! And then, I fancy Mr. + Rivers is a wee bit afraid of his brother-in-law, for he begged papa and + Flora to come home and dine with them, but Flora was engaged to Mrs. + Hoxton.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Flora!” said Norman, as if he rather enjoyed her losing something + through her going to Mrs. Hoxton. “I suppose she would have given the + world to go!” + </p> + <p> + “I was so sorry,” said Ethel; “but I had to go instead, and it was + delightful. Papa made great friends with Lord Cosham, while Mr. Rivers + went to sleep after dinner, and I had such a delightful wandering with + Meta, listening to the nightingales, and hearing all about it. I never + knew Meta so well before.” + </p> + <p> + “And there was no more question of her going back?” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed! She said, when her uncle asked in joke, on Monday morning, + whether she had packed up to return with him, Mr. Rivers was quite + nervously alarmed the first moment, lest she should intend it.” + </p> + <p> + “That little Meta,” said Margaret. “Her wishes for substantial use have + been pretty well realised!” + </p> + <p> + “Um!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” said Norman sharply. “I should call her present + position the perfection of feminine usefulness.” + </p> + <p> + “So perhaps it is,” said Ethel; “but though she does it beautifully, and + is very valuable, to be the mistress of a great luxurious house like that + does not seem to me the subject of aspirations like Meta’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of the contrast with what she used to be,” said Margaret gently, + “the pretty, gentle, playful toy that her father brought her up to be, + living a life of mere accomplishments and self-indulgence; kind certainly, + but never so as to endure any disagreeables, or make any exertion. But as + soon as she entered into the true spirit of our calling, did she not begin + to seek to live the sterner life, and train herself in duty? The quiet way + she took always seemed to me the great beauty of it. She makes duties of + her accomplishments by making them loving obedience to her father.” + </p> + <p> + “Not that they are not pleasant to her?” interposed Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Margaret, “but it gives them the zest, and confidence + that they are right, which one could not have in such things merely for + one’s own amusement.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel, “she does more; she told me one day that one reason she + liked sketching was, that looking into nature always made psalms and hymns + sing in her ears, and so with her music and her beautiful copies from the + old Italian devotional pictures. She says our papa taught her to look at + them so as to see more than the mere art and beauty.” + </p> + <p> + “Think how diligently she measures out her day,” said Margaret; “getting + up early, to be sure of time for reading her serious books, and working + hard at her tough studies.” + </p> + <p> + “And what I care for still more,” said Ethel, “her being bent on learning + plain needlework and doing it for her poor people. She is so useful + amongst the cottagers at Abbotstoke!” + </p> + <p> + “And a famous little mistress of the house,” added Margaret. “When the old + housekeeper went away two years ago, she thought she ought to know + something about the government of the house; so she asked me about it, and + proposed to her father that the new one should come to her for orders, and + that she should pay the wages and have the accounts in her hands. Mr. + Rivers thought it was only a freak, but she has gone on steadily; and I + assure you, she has had some difficulties, for she has come to me about + them. Perhaps Ethel does not believe in them?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I was only thinking how I should hate ordering those fanciful dinners + for Mr. Rivers. I know what you mean, and how she had difficulties about + sending the maids to church, and in dealing with the cook, who did harm to + the other servants, and yet sent up dinners that he liked, and how puzzled + she was to avoid annoying him. Oh! she has got into a peck of troubles by + making herself manager.” + </p> + <p> + “And had she not been the Meta she is, she would either have fretted, or + thrown it all up, instead of humming briskly through all. She never was + afraid to speak to any one,” said Margaret, “that is one thing; I believe + every difficulty makes the spirit bound higher, till she springs over it, + and finds it, as she says, only a pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “She need not be afraid to speak,” said Ethel, “for she always does it + well and winningly. I have seen her give a reproof in so firm and kind a + way, and so bright in the instant of forgiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Margaret, “she does those disagreeable things as well as Flora + does in her way.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Ethel, “doing things well does not seem to be a snare to + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” whispered Margaret, “she fulfils more than almost any one—the—‘Whatsoever + ye do, do all to the glory of God.’” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” said Norman suddenly, “the derivation of Margarita?” + </p> + <p> + “No further than those two pretty meanings, the pearl and the daisy,” said + Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “It is from the Persian Mervarid, child of light,” said Norman; and, with + a sudden flush of colour, he returned to the garden. + </p> + <p> + “A fit meaning for one who carries sunshine with her,” said Margaret. “I + feel in better tune for a whole day after her bright eyes have been + smiling on me.” + </p> + <p> + “You want no one to put you in tune,” said Ethel fondly—“you, our + own pearl of light.” + </p> + <p> + “No, call me only an old faded daisy,” said Margaret sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit, only our moon, la gran Margarita” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I hear the real Daisy coming!” exclaimed Margaret, her face lighting up + with pleasure as the two youngest children entered, and, indeed, little + Gertrude’s golden hair, round open face, fresh red and white complexion, + and innocent looks, had so much likeness to the flower, as to promote the + use of the pet name, though protests were often made in favour of her + proper appellation. Her temper was daisy-like too, serene and loving, and + able to bear a great deal of spoiling, and resolve as they might, who was + not her slave? + </p> + <p> + Miss Winter no longer ruled the schoolroom. Her sway had been brought to a + happy conclusion by a proposal from a widowed sister to keep house with + her; and Ethel had reason to rejoice that Margaret had kept her submissive + under authority, which, if not always judicious, was both kind and + conscientious. + </p> + <p> + Upon the change, Ethel had thought that the lessons could easily be + managed by herself and Flora; while Flora was very anxious for a finishing + governess, who might impart singing to herself, graces to Ethel, and + accomplishments to Mary and Blanche. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May, however, took them both by surprise. He met with a family of + orphans, the eldest of whom had been qualifying herself for a governess, + and needed nothing but age and finish; and in ten minutes after the + project had been conceived, he had begun to put it in execution, in spite + of Flora’s prudent demurs. + </p> + <p> + Miss Bracy was a gentle, pleasing young person, pretty to look at, with + her soft olive complexion, and languid pensive eyes, obliging and + intelligent; and the change from the dry, authoritative Miss Winter was so + delightful, that unedifying contrasts were continually being drawn. + Blanche struck up a great friendship for her at once; Mary, always docile, + ceased to be piteous at her lessons, and Ethel moralised on the + satisfaction of having sympathy needed instead of repelled, and did her + utmost to make Miss Bracy feel at home—and like a friend—in + her new position. + </p> + <p> + For herself, Ethel had drawn up a beautiful time-table, with all her + pursuits and duties most carefully balanced, after the pattern of that + which Margaret Rivers had made by her advice, on the departure of Mrs. + Larpent, who had been called away by the ill-health of her son. Meta had + adhered to hers in an exemplary manner, but she was her own mistress in a + manner that could hardly be the lot of one of a large family. + </p> + <p> + Margaret had become subject to languor and palpitations, and the head of + the household had fallen entirely upon Flora, who, on the other hand, was + a person of multifarious occupations, and always had a great number of + letters to write, or songs to copy and practise, which, together with her + frequent visits to Mrs. Hoxton, made her glad to devolve, as much as she + could, upon her younger sister; and, “Oh, Ethel, you will not mind just + doing this for me,” was said often enough to be a tax upon her time. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, Ethel perceived that Aubrey’s lessons were in an unsatisfactory + state. Margaret could not always attend to them, and suffered from them + when she did; and he was bandied about between his sisters and Miss Bracy + in a manner that made him neither attentive nor obedient. + </p> + <p> + On her own principle, that to embrace a task heartily renders it no longer + irksome, she called on herself to sacrifice her studies and her + regularity, as far as was needful, to make her available for home + requirements. She made herself responsible for Aubrey, and, after a few + battles with his desultory habits, made him a very promising pupil, + inspiring so much of herself into him, that he was, if anything, overfull + of her classical tastes. In fact, he had such an appetite for books, and + dealt so much in precocious wisdom, that his father was heard to say, “Six + years old! It is a comfort that he will soon forget the whole.” + </p> + <p> + Gertrude was also Ethel’s pupil, but learning was not at all in her line; + and the sight of “Cobwebs to catch Flies,” or of the venerated “Little + Charles,” were the most serious clouds, that made the Daisy pucker up her + face, and infuse a whine into her voice. + </p> + <p> + However, to-day, as usual, she was half dragged, half coaxed, through her + day’s portion of the discipline of life, and then sent up for her sleep, + while Aubrey’s two hours were spent in more agreeable work, such as + Margaret could not but enjoy hearing—so spirited was Ethel’s mode of + teaching—so eager was her scholar. + </p> + <p> + His play afterwards consisted in fighting o’er again the siege of Troy on + the floor, with wooden bricks, shells, and the survivors of a Noah’s ark, + while Ethel read to Margaret until Gertrude’s descent from the nursery, + when the only means of preventing a dire confusion in Aubrey’s camp was + for her elder sisters to become her playfellows, and so spare Aubrey’s + temper. Ethel good-humouredly gave her own time, till their little tyrant + trotted out to make Norman carry her round the garden on his back. + </p> + <p> + So sped the morning till Flora came home, full of the intended bazaar, and + Ethel would fain have taken refuge in puzzling out her Spanish, had she + not remembered her recent promise to be gracious. + </p> + <p> + The matter had been much as she had described it. Flora had a way of + hinting at anything she thought creditable, and thus the Stoneborough + public had become aware of the exertions of the May family on behalf of + Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + The plan of a fancy fair was started. Mrs. Hoxton became more interested + than was her wont, and Flora was enchanted at the opening it gave for + promoting the welfare of the forlorn district. She held a position which + made her hope to direct the whole. As she had once declared, with truth, + it only had depended on themselves, whether she and her sisters should + sink to the level of the Andersons and their set, or belong to the county + society; and her tact had resulted in her being decidedly—as the + little dressmaker’s apprentice amused Ethel by saying—“One of our + most distinguished patronesses”—a name that had stuck by her ever + since. + </p> + <p> + Margaret looked on passively, inclined to admire Flora in everything, yet + now and then puzzled; and her father, in his simple-hearted way, felt only + gratitude and exultation in the kindness that his daughter met with. As to + the bazaar, if it had been started in his own family, he might have + weighed the objections, but, as it was not his daughter’s own concern, he + did not trouble himself about it, only regarding it as one of the many + vagaries of the ladies of Stoneborough. + </p> + <p> + So the scheme had been further developed, till now Flora came in with much + to tell. The number of stalls had been finally fixed. Mrs. Hoxton + undertook one, with Flora as an aide-de-camp, and some nieces to assist; + Lady Leonora was to chaperon Miss Rivers; and a third, to Flora’s regret, + had been allotted to Miss Cleveland, a good-natured, merry, elderly + heiress, who would, Flora feared, bring on them the whole “Stoneborough + crew.” And then she began to reckon up the present resources—drawings, + bags, and pincushions. “That chip hat you plaited for Daisy, Margaret, you + must let us have that. It will be lovely, trimmed with pink.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish for this?” said Ethel, heaving up a mass of knitting. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Flora; “so ornamental, especially the original + performance in the corner, which you would perpetrate, in spite of my best + efforts.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not be offended if you despise it. I only thought you might have + no more scruple in robbing Granny Hall than in robbing Daisy.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, send it. Papa will buy it as your unique performance.” + </p> + <p> + “No; you shall tell me what I am to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she mean it?” said Flora, turning to Margaret. “Have you converted + her? Well done! Then, Ethel, we will get some pretty batiste, and you and + Mary shall make some of those nice sun-bonnets, which you really do to + perfection.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. That is a more respectable task than I expected. People may + have something worth buying,” said Ethel, who, like all the world, felt + the influence of Flora’s tact. + </p> + <p> + “I mean to study the useful,” said Flora. “The Cleveland set will be sure + to deal in frippery, and I have been looking over Mrs. Hoxton’s stores, + where I see quite enough for mere decoration. There are two splendid vases + in potichomanie, in an Etruscan pattern, which are coming for me to + finish.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Taylor, at Cocksmoor, could do that for you,” said Ethel. “Her two + phials, stuffed with chintz patterns and flour, are quite as original and + tasteful.” + </p> + <p> + “Silly work,” said Flora, “but it makes a fair show.” + </p> + <p> + “The essence of Vanity Fair,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “It won’t do to be satirical over much,” said Flora. “You won’t get on + without humouring your neighbours’ follies.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to get on.” + </p> + <p> + “But you want—or, at least, I want—Cocksmoor to get on.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel saw Margaret looking distressed, and, recalling her resolution she + said, “Well, Flora, I don’t mean to say any more about it. I see it can’t + be helped, and you all think you intend it for good; so there’s an end of + the matter, and I’ll do anything for you in reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old King Ethel!” said Flora, smiling in an elder-sisterly manner. + “You will see, my dear, your views are very pretty, but very + impracticable, and it is a work-a-day world after all—even papa + would tell you so. When Cocksmoor school is built, then you may thank me. + I do not look for it before.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Knowledge is second, not the first; + A higher Hand must make her mild, + If all be not in vain, and guide + Her footsteps, moving side by side, + With wisdom; like the younger child, + For she is earthly of the mind, + But knowledge heavenly of the soul.—In Memoriam. +</pre> + <p> + Etheldred had not answered her sister, but she did not feel at all secure + that she should have anything to be thankful for, even if the school were + built. + </p> + <p> + The invasion of Cocksmoor was not only interference with her own field of + action, but it was dangerous to the improvement of her scholars. Since the + departure of Mr. Wilmot, matters at Stoneborough National School had not + improved, though the Misses Anderson talked a great deal about progress, + science, and lectures. + </p> + <p> + The Ladies’ Committee were constantly at war with the mistresses, and that + one was a veteran who endured them, or whom they could endure beyond her + first half-year. No mistress had stayed a year within the memory of any + girl now at school. Perpetual change prevented any real education, and, as + each lady held different opinions and proscribed all books not agreeing + thereto, everything “dogmatical” was excluded; and, as Ethel said, the + children learned nothing but facts about lions and steam-engines, while + their doctrine varied with that of the visitor for the week. If the ten + generals could only have given up to Miltiades, but, alas! there was no + Miltiades. Mr. Ramsden’s health was failing, and his neglect told upon the + parish in the dreadful evils reigning unchecked, and engulfing many a + child whom more influential teaching might have saved. Mental arithmetic, + and the rivers of Africa, had little power to strengthen the soul against + temptation. + </p> + <p> + The scanty attendance at the National School attested the indifference + with which it was regarded, and the borderers voluntarily patronised + Cherry Elwood, and thus had, perhaps, first aroused the emulation that led + Mrs. Ledwich on a visit of inspection, to what she chose to consider as an + offshoot of the National School. + </p> + <p> + The next day she called upon the Misses May. It was well that Ethel was + not at home. Margaret received the lady’s horrors at the sight of the mere + crowded cottage kitchen, the stupid untrained mistress, without an idea of + method, and that impertinent woman, her mother! Miss Flora and Miss Ethel + must have had a great deal to undergo, and she would lose no time in + convening the Ladies’ Committee, and appointing a successor to “that + Elwood,” as soon as a fit room could be erected for her use. If Margaret + had not known that Mrs. Ledwich sometimes threatened more than she could + accomplish, she would have been in despair. She tried to say a good word + for Cherry, but was talked down, and had reason to believe that Mrs. + Elwood had mortally offended Mrs. Ledwich. + </p> + <p> + The sisters had heard the other side of the story at Cocksmoor. Mrs. + Elwood would not let them enter the school till she had heard how that + there Mrs. Ledwich had come in, and treated them all as if it was her own + place—how she had found fault with Cherry before all the children, + and as good as said she was not fit to keep a school. She had even laid + hands on one of the books, and said that she should take it home, and see + whether it were a fit one for them to use; whereupon Mrs. Elwood had burst + out in defence—it was Miss Ethel May’s book, and should not be taken + away—it was Miss Ethel as she looked to; and when it seemed that + Mrs. Ledwich had said something disparaging of Miss Ethel, either as to + youth, judgment, or doctrine, Mrs. Elwood had fired up into a declaration + that “Miss Ethel was a real lady—that she was! and that no real lady + would ever come prying into other folk’s work and finding fault with what + wasn’t no business of theirs,” with more of a personal nature, which Flora + could not help enjoying, even while she regretted it. + </p> + <p> + Cherry was only too meek, as her mother declared. She had said not a word, + except in quiet reply, and being equally terrified by the attack and + defence, had probably seemed more dull than was her wont. Her real + feelings did not appear till the next Sunday, when, in her peaceful + conference with Margaret, far from the sound of storms, she expressed that + she well knew that she was a poor scholar, and that she hoped the young + ladies would not let her stand in the children’s light, when a better + teacher could be found for them. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure!” cried Ethel, as she heard of this, “it would be hard to find + such a teacher in humility! Cherry bears it so much better than I, that it + is a continual reproof!” + </p> + <p> + As to the dullness, against which Ethel used to rail, the attacks upon it + had made her erect it into a positive merit; she was always comparing the + truth, honesty, and respectful demeanour of Cherry’s scholars with the + notorious faults of the National School girls, as if these defects had + been implanted either by Mrs. Ledwich, or by geography. It must be + confessed that the violence of partisanship did not make her a pleasant + companion. + </p> + <p> + However, the interest of the bazaar began somewhat to divert the current + of the ladies’ thoughts, and Ethel found herself walking day after day to + Cocksmoor, unmolested by further reports of Mrs. Ledwich’s proceedings. + Richard was absent, preparing for ordination, but Norman had just returned + home for the Long Vacation, and, rather than lose the chance of a + conversation with her, had joined her and Mary in a walk to Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + His talk was chiefly of Settlesham, old Mr. Wilmot’s parish, where he had + been making a visit to his former tutor, and talking over the removal to + Eton of Tom, who had well responded to the care taken of him, and with his + good principles confirmed, and his character strengthened, might be, with + less danger, exposed to trial. + </p> + <p> + It had been a visit such as to leave a deep impression on Norman’s mind. + Sixty years ago, old Mr. Wilmot had been what he now was himself—an + enthusiastic and distinguished Balliol man, and he had kept up a warm, + clear-sighted interest in Oxford throughout his long life. His anecdotes, + his recollections, and comments on present opinions had been listened to + with great eagerness, and Norman had felt it an infinite honour to give + the venerable old man his arm, as to be shown by him his curious + collection of books. His parish, carefully watched for so many years, had + been a study not lost upon Norman, who detailed particulars of the doings + there, which made Ethel sigh to think of the contrast with Stoneborough. + In such conversation they came to the entrance of the hamlet, and Mary, + with a scream of joy, declared that she really believed that he was going + to help them! He did not turn away. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” said Ethel, in a low voice, from the bottom of her heart. + </p> + <p> + She used him mercifully, and made the lessons shorter than usual, but when + they reached the open air again, he drew a long breath; and when Mary + eagerly tried for a compliment to their scholars, asked if they could not + be taught the use of eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “Did they stare?” said Ethel. “That’s one advantage of being blind. No one + can stare me out of countenance.” + </p> + <p> + “Why were you answering all your questions yourself?” asked Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Because no one else would,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “You used such hard words,” replied Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! I thought I was very simple.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Mary, “there were derive, and instruction, and implicate, and—oh, + so many.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Ethel, seeing him disconcerted. “It is better for them + to be drawn up, and you will soon learn their language. If we only had Una + M’Carthy here!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don’t like it?” said Mary, disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “It is time to learn not to be fastidious,” he answered. “So, if you will + help me—” + </p> + <p> + “Norman, I am so glad!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norman, “I see now that these things that puff us up, and seem + the whole world to us now, all end in nothing but such as this! Think of + old Mr. Wilmot, once carrying all before him, but deeming all his powers + well bestowed in fifty years’ teaching of clowns!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Ethel, very low. “One soul is worth—” and she paused + from the fullness of thought. + </p> + <p> + “And these things, about which we are so elated, do not render us so fit + to teach—as you, Mary, or as Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “They do,” said Ethel. “The ten talents were doubled. Strength tells in + power. The more learning, the fitter to teach the simplest thing.” + </p> + <p> + “You remind me of old Mr. Wilmot saying that the first thing he learned at + his parish was, how little his people knew; the second, how little he + himself knew.” + </p> + <p> + So Norman persevered in the homely discipline that he had chosen for + himself, which brought out his deficiency in practical work in a manner + which lowered him in his own eyes, to a degree almost satisfactory to + himself. He was not, indeed, without humility, but his nature was + self-contemplative and self-conscious enough to perceive his superiority + of talent, and it had been the struggle of his life to abase this + perception, so that it was actually a relief not to be obliged to fight + with his own complacency in his powers. He had learned not to think too + highly of himself—he had yet to learn to “think soberly.” His aid + was Ethel’s chief pleasure through this somewhat trying summer, it might + be her last peaceful one at Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + That bazaar! How wild it had driven the whole town, and even her own home! + </p> + <p> + Margaret herself, between good nature and feminine love of pretty things, + had become ardent in the cause. In her unvaried life, it was a great + amusement to have so many bright elegant things exhibited to her, and + Ethel was often mortified to find her excited about some new device, or + drawn off from “rational employments,” to complete some trifle. + </p> + <p> + Mary and Blanche were far worse. From the time that consent had been given + to the fancy-work being carried on in the schoolroom, all interest in + study was over. Thenceforth, lessons were a necessary form, gone through + without heart or diligence. These were reserved for paste-board boxes, + beplastered with rice and sealing-wax, for alum baskets, dressed dolls, + and every conceivable trumpery; and the governess was as eager as the + scholars. + </p> + <p> + If Ethel remonstrated, she hurt Miss Bracy’s feelings, and this was a very + serious matter to both parties. + </p> + <p> + The governess was one of those morbidly sensitive people, who cannot be + stopped when once they have begun arguing that they are injured. Two women + together, each with the last-word instinct, have no power to cease; and, + when the words are spent in explaining—not in scolding—conscience + is not called in to silence them, and nothing but dinner or a + thunder-storm can check them. All Ethel’s good sense was of no avail; she + could not stop Miss Bracy, and, though she might resolve within herself + that real kindness would be to make one reasonable reply, and then quit + the subject, yet, on each individual occasion, such a measure would have + seemed mere impatience and cruelty. She found that if Miss Winter had been + too dry, Miss Bracy went to the other extreme, and demanded a + manifestation of sympathy, and return to her passionate attachment that + perplexed Ethel’s undemonstrative nature. Poor good Miss Bracy, she little + imagined how often she added to the worries of her dear Miss Ethel, all + for want of self-command. + </p> + <p> + Finally, as the lessons were less and less attended to, and the needs of + the stall became more urgent, Dr. May and Margaret concurred in a + decision, that it was better to yield to the mania, and give up the + studies till they could be pursued with a willing mind. + </p> + <p> + Ethel submitted, and only laughed with Norman at the display of treasures, + which the girls went over daily, like the “House that Jack built,” always + starting from “the box that Mary made.” Come when Dr. May would into the + drawing-room, there was always a line of penwipers laid out on the floor, + bags pendent to all the table-drawers, antimacassars laid out everywhere. + </p> + <p> + Ethel hoped that the holidays would create a diversion, but Mary was too + old to be made into a boy, and Blanche drew Hector over to the feminine + party, setting him to gum, gild, and paste all the contrivances which, in + their hands, were mere feeble gimcracks, but which now became fairly + sound, or, at least, saleable. + </p> + <p> + The boys also constructed a beautiful little ship from a print of the + Alcestis, so successfully, that the doctor promised to buy it; and Ethel + grudged the very sight of it to the bazaar. + </p> + <p> + Tom, who, in person, was growing like a little shadow or model of Norman, + had, unlike him, a very dexterous pair of hands, and made himself + extremely useful in all such works. On the other hand, the Cleveland stall + seemed chiefly to rely for brilliance on the wit of Harvey Anderson, who + was prospering at his college, and the pride of his family. A great + talker, and extremely gallant, he was considered a far greater acquisition + to a Stoneborough drawing-room than was the silent, bashful Norman May, + and rather looked down on his brother Edward, who, having gone steadily + through the school, was in the attorney’s office, and went on quietly and + well, colouring up gratefully whenever one of the May family said a kind + word to him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Any silk, any thread, + Any toys for your head, + Of the newest and finest wear-a? + Come to the pedlar, + Money’s a medlar. + That doth utter all men’s ware-a. + Winter’s Tale. +</pre> + <p> + “This one day and it will be over, and we shall be rational again,” + thought Ethel, as she awoke. + </p> + <p> + Flora was sleeping at the Grange, to be ready for action in the morning, + and Ethel was to go early with Mary and Blanche, who were frantic to have + a share in the selling. Norman and the boys were to walk at their own + time, and the children to be brought later by Miss Bracy. The doctor would + be bound by no rules. + </p> + <p> + It was a pattern day, bright, clear, warm, and not oppressive, perfect for + an out-of-doors fete; and Ethel had made up her mind to fulfil her promise + to Margaret of enjoying herself. In the brilliant sunshine, and between + two such happy sisters, it would have been surly, indeed, not to enter + into the spirit of the day; and Ethel laughed gaily with them, and at + their schemes and hopes; Blanche’s heart being especially set on knowing + the fate of a watch-guard of her own construction. + </p> + <p> + Hearing that the ladies were in the gardens, they repaired thither at + once. The broad, smooth bowling-green lay before them; a marquee, almost + converted into a bower, bounding it on either side, while in the midst + arose, gorgeous and delicious, a pyramid of flowers—contributions + from all the hot-houses in the neighbourhood—to be sold for the + benefit of the bazaar. Their freshness and fragrance gave a brightness to + the whole scene, while shrinking from such light, as only the beauteous + works of nature could bear, was the array accomplished by female fingers. + </p> + <p> + Under the wreathed canopies were the stalls, piled up with bright colours, + most artistically arranged. Ethel, with her over-minute knowledge of every + article, could hardly believe that yonder glowing Eastern pattern of + scarlet, black, and blue, was, in fact, a judicious mosaic of penwipers + that she remembered, as shreds begged from the tailor, that the delicate + lace-work consisted of Miss Bracy’s perpetual antimacassars, and that the + potichomanie could look so dignified and Etruscan. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are!” cried Meta Rivers, springing to meet them. “Good girls, to + come early. Where’s my little Daisy?” + </p> + <p> + “Coming in good time,” said Ethel. “How pretty it all looks!” + </p> + <p> + “But where’s Flora?—where’s my watch-guard?” anxiously asked + Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “She was here just now,” said Meta, looking round. “What a genius she is, + Ethel! She worked wonders all yesterday, and let the Miss Hoxtons think it + was all their own doing, and she was out before six this morning, putting + finishing touches.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this your stall?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it will not bear a comparison with hers. It has a lady’s-maid + look by the side of hers. In fact, Bellairs and my aunt’s maid did it + chiefly, for papa was rather ailing yesterday, and I could not be out + much.” + </p> + <p> + “How is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “Better; he will walk round by-and-by. I hope it will not be too much for + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what beautiful things!” cried Mary, in ecstasy, at what she was + forced to express by the vague substantive, for her imagination had never + stretched to the marvels she beheld. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, we have been lazy, you see, and so Aunt Leonora brought down all + these smart concerns. It is rather like Howell and James’s, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + In fact, Lady Leonora’s marquee was filled with costly knick-knacks, + which, as Meta justly said, had not half the grace and appropriate air + that reigned where Flora had arranged, and where Margaret had worked, with + the peculiar freshness and finish that distinguished everything to which + she set her hand. + </p> + <p> + Miss Cleveland’s counter was not ill set-out, but it wanted the air of + ease and simplicity, which was even more noticeable than the perfect taste + of Flora’s wares. If there had been nothing facetious, the effect would + have been better, but there was nothing to regret, and the whole was very + bright and gay. + </p> + <p> + Blanche could hardly look; so anxious was she for Flora to tell her the + locality of her treasure. + </p> + <p> + “There she is,” said Meta at last. “George is fixing that branch of + evergreen for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Flora! I did not know her,” cried each sister amazed; while Mary added, + “Oh, how nice she looks!” + </p> + <p> + It was the first time of seeing her in the white muslin, and broad chip + hat—which all the younger saleswomen of the bazaar had agreed to + wear. It was a most becoming dress, and she did, indeed, look strikingly + elegant and well dressed. It occurred to Ethel, for the first time, that + Flora was decidedly the reigning beauty of the bazaar—no one but + Meta Rivers could be compared to her, and that little lady was on so small + a scale of perfect finish, that she seemed fit to act the fairy, where + Flora was the enchanted princess. + </p> + <p> + Flora greeted her sisters eagerly, while Meta introduced her brother—a + great contrast to herself, though not without a certain comeliness, tall + and large, with ruddy complexion, deep lustreless black eyes, and a heavy + straight bush of black moustache, veiling rather thick lips. Blanche + reiterated inquiries for her watch-guard. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,”—said Flora. “Somewhere among the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Blanche was in despair. + </p> + <p> + “You may look for it,” said Flora, who, however hurried, never failed in + kindness, “if you will touch nothing.” + </p> + <p> + So Blanche ran from place to place in restless dismay, that caused Mr. + George Rivers to ask what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + “The guards! the guards!” cried Blanche; whereupon he fell into a fit of + laughter, which disconcerted her, because she could not understand him, + and made Ethel take an aversion to him on the spot. + </p> + <p> + However, he was very good-natured; he took Blanche’s reluctant hand, and + conducted her all along the stall, even proceeding to lift her up where + she could not command a view of the whole, thus exciting her extreme + indignation. She shook herself out when he set her down, surveyed her + crumpled muslin, and believed he took her for a little girl! She ought to + have been flattered when the quest was successful, and he insisted on + knowing which was the guard, and declared that he should buy it. She + begged him to do no such thing, and he desired to know why—insisting + that he would give five shillings—fifteen—twenty-five for that + one! till she did not know whether he was in earnest, and she doing an + injury to the bazaar. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, the hour had struck, and Flora had placed Mrs. Hoxton in a + sheltered spot, where she could take as much or as little trouble as she + pleased. Lady Leonora and Miss Langdale came from the house, and, with the + two ladies’-maids in the background, took up their station with Miss + Rivers. Miss Cleveland called her party to order, and sounds of carriages + were heard approaching. + </p> + <p> + Mary and Blanche disbursed the first money spent in the “fancy fair;” + Mary, on a blotting-book for Harry, to be placed among the presents, to + which she added on every birthday, while Blanche bought a sixpenny gift + for every one, with more attention to the quantity than the quality. Then + came a revival of her anxieties for the guards, and while Mary was simply + desirous of the fun of being a shopwoman, and was made happy by Meta + Rivers asking her help, Blanche was in despair, till she had sidled up to + their neighbourhood, and her piteous looks had caused good-natured Mrs. + Hoxton to invite her to assist, when she placed herself close to the + precious object. + </p> + <p> + A great fluttering of heart went to that manoeuvre, but still felicity + could not be complete. That great troublesome Mr. George Rivers had + actually threatened to buy nothing but that one watch-chain, and Blanche’s + eye followed him everywhere with fear, lest he should come that way. And + there were many other gentlemen—what could they want but + watch-guards, and of them—what—save this paragon? + </p> + <p> + Poor Blanche; what did she not undergo whenever any one cast his eye over + her range of goods? and this was not seldom, for there was an attraction + in the pretty little eager girl, glowing and smiling. One old gentleman + actually stopped, handled the guards themselves, and asked their price. + </p> + <p> + “Eighteen-pence,” said Blanche, colouring and faltering, as she held up + one in preference. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! is not this the best?” said he, to the lady on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! please, take that instead?” exclaimed Blanche, in extremity. + </p> + <p> + “And why?” asked the gentleman, amused. + </p> + <p> + “I made this,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the reason I must not have it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, don’t tease her,” the lady said kindly; and the other was taken. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder for what it is reserved!” the lady could not help saying, as she + walked away. + </p> + <p> + “Let us watch her for a minute or two. What an embellishment children are! + Ha! don’t you see—the little maid is fluttering and reddening—now! + How pretty she looks! Ah! I see! here’s the favoured! Don’t you see that + fine bronzed lad—Eton—one can see at a glance! It is a little + drama. They are pretending to be strangers. He is turning over the goods + with an air, she trying to look equally careless, but what a pretty + carnation it is! Ha! ha! he has come to it—he has it! Now the acting + is over, and they are having their laugh out! How joyously! What next! Oh! + she begs off from keeping shop—she darts out to him, goes off in his + hand—I declare that is the prettiest sight in the whole fair! I + wonder who the little demoiselle can be?” + </p> + <p> + The great event of the day was over now with Blanche, and she greatly + enjoyed wandering about with Hector and Tom. There was a post-office at + Miss Cleveland’s stall, where, on paying sixpence, a letter could be + obtained to the address of the inquirer. Blanche had been very anxious to + try, but Flora had pronounced it nonsense; however, Hector declared that + Flora was not his master, tapped at the sliding panel, and charmed Blanche + by what she thought a most witty parody of his name as Achilles Lionsrock, + Esquire. When the answer came from within, “Ship letter, sir, double + postage,” they thought it almost uncanny; and Hector’s shilling was + requited by something so like a real ship letter, that they had some idea + that the real post had somehow transported itself thither. The interior + was decidedly oracular, consisting of this one line, “I counsel you to + persevere in your laudable undertaking.” + </p> + <p> + Hector said he wished he had any laudable undertaking, and Blanche tried + to persuade Tom to try his fortune, but he pronounced that he did not care + to hear Harvey Anderson’s trash—he knew his writing, though + disguised, and had detected his shining boots below the counter. There Mr. + George Rivers came up, and began to tease Blanche about the guards, asking + her to take his fifteen shillings—or five-and-twenty, and who had + got that one, which alone he wanted; till the poor child, after standing + perplexed for some moments, looked up with spirit, and said, “You have no + business to ask,” and, running away, took refuge in the back of Mrs. + Hoxton’s marquee, where she found Ethel packing up for Miss Hoxton’s + purchasers, and confiding to her that Mr. George Rivers was a horrid man, + she ventured no more from her protection. She did, indeed, emerge, when + told that papa was coming with Aubrey and Daisy and Miss Bracy, and she + had the pleasure of selling to them some of her wares. Dr. May bargaining + with her to her infinite satisfaction; and little Gertrude’s blue eyes + opened to their full width, not understanding what could have befallen her + sisters. + </p> + <p> + “And what is Ethel doing?” asked the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Packing up parcels, papa,” and Ethel’s face was raised, looking very + merry. + </p> + <p> + “Packing parcels! How long will they last tied up?” said Dr. May, + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Lasting is the concern of nothing in the fair, papa,” answered she, in + the same tone. + </p> + <p> + For Ethel was noted as the worst packer in the house; but, having offered + to wrap up a pincushion, sold by a hurried Miss Hoxton, she became + involved in the office for the rest of the day—the same which + Bellairs and her companion performed at the Langdale counter. Flora was + too ready and dexterous to need any such aid, but the Misses Hoxton were + glad to be spared the trouble; and Blanche, whose fingers were far neater + than Ethel’s, made the task much easier, and was kept constant to it by + her dread of the dark moustache, which was often visible near their tent, + searching, she thought, for her. + </p> + <p> + Their humble employment was no sinecure; for this was the favourite stall + with the purchasers of better style, since the articles were, in general, + tasteful, and fairly worth the moderate price set on them. At Miss + Cleveland’s counter there was much noisy laughter—many jocular + cheats—tricks for gaining money, and refusals to give change; and it + seemed to be very popular with the Stoneborough people, and to carry on a + brisk trade. The only languor was in Lady Leonora’s quarter—the + articles were too costly, and hung on hand; nor were the ladies + sufficiently well known, nor active enough, to gain custom, excepting + Meta, who drove a gay traffic at her end of the stall, which somewhat + redeemed the general languor. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were, all the time, watching for her father, and, suddenly + perceiving him, she left her trade in charge of the delighted and + important Mary, and hastened to walk round with him, and show him the + humours of the fair. + </p> + <p> + Mary, in her absence, had the supreme happiness of obtaining Norman as a + customer. He wanted a picture for his rooms at Oxford, and water-coloured + drawings were, as Tom had observed, suitable staple commodities for Miss + Rivers. Mary tried to make him choose a brightly-coloured pheasant, with a + pencil background; and, then, a fine foaming sea-piece, by some unknown + Lady Adelaide, that much dazzled her imagination; but nothing would serve + him but a sketch of an old cedar tree, with Stoneborough Minster in the + distance, and the Welsh hills beyond, which Mary thought a remarkable + piece of bad taste, since—could he not see all that any day of his + life? and was it worth while to give fourteen shillings and sixpence for + it? But he said it was all for the good of Cocksmoor, and Mary was only + too glad to add to her hoard of coin; so she only marvelled at his + extravagance, and offered to take care of it for him; but, to this, he + would not consent. He made her pack it up for him, and had just put the + whitey-brown parcel under his arm, when Mr. Rivers and his daughter came + up, before he was aware. Mary proudly advertised Meta that she had sold + something for her. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Your great picture of Stoneborough!” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Is that gone? I am sorry you have parted with that, my dear; it was one + of your best,” said Mr. Rivers, in his soft, sleepy, gentle tone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, I can do another. But, I wonder! I put that extortionate price + on it, thinking no one would give it, and so that I should keep it for + you. Who has it, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “Norman, there. He would have it, though I told him it was very dear.” + </p> + <p> + Norman, pressed near them by the crowd, had been unable to escape, and + stood blushing, hesitating, and doubting whether he ought to restore the + prize, which he had watched so long, and obtained so eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is you?” said Mr. Rivers politely. “Oh, no, do not think of + exchanging it. I am rejoiced that one should have it who can appreciate + it. It was its falling into the hands of a stranger that I disliked. You + think with me, that it is one of her best drawings?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” said Norman, still rather hesitating. “She did that with C—, + when he was here last year. He taught her very well. Have you that other + here, that you took with him, my dear? The view from the gate, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear papa. You told me not to sell that.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I remember; that is right. But there are some very pretty copies from + Prout here.” + </p> + <p> + While he was seeking them, Meta contrived to whisper, “If you could + persuade him to go indoors—this confusion of people is so bad for + him, and I must not come away. I was in hopes of Dr. May, but he is with + the little ones.” + </p> + <p> + Norman signed comprehension, and Meta said, “Those copies are not worth + seeing, but you know, papa, you have the originals in the library.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rivers looked pleased, but was certain that Norman could not prefer + the sketches to this gay scene. However, it took very little persuasion to + induce him to do what he wished, and he took Norman’s arm, crossed the + lawn, and arrived in his own study, where it was a great treat to him to + catch any one who would admire his accumulation of prints, drawings, + coins, etc.; and his young friend was both very well amused and pleased to + be setting Miss Rivers’s mind at ease on her father’s account. It was not + till half-past four that Dr. May knocked at the door, and stood surprised + at finding his son there. Mr. Rivers spoke warmly of the young Oxonian’s + kindness in leaving the fair for an old man, and praised Norman’s taste in + art. Norman rose to take leave, but still thought it incumbent on him to + offer to give up the picture, if Mr. Rivers set an especial value on it. + But Mr. Rivers went to the length of being very glad that it was in his + possession, and added to it a very pretty drawing of the same size, by a + noted master, which had been in the water-colour exhibition, and, while + Norman walked away, well pleased, Mr. Rivers began to extol him to his + father, as a very superior and sensible young man, of great promise, and + began to wish George had the same turn. + </p> + <p> + Norman, on returning to the fancy fair, found the world in all the ardour + of raffles. Lady Leonora’s contributions were the chief prizes, which + attracted every one, and, of course, the result was delightfully + incongruous. Poor Ethel, who had been persuaded to venture a shilling to + please Blanche, who had spent all her own, obtained the two jars in + potichomanie, and was regarding them with a face worth painting. Harvey + Anderson had a doll, George Rivers a wooden monkey, that jumped over a + stick; and, if Hector Ernescliffe was enchanted at winning a beautiful + mother-of-pearl inlaid workbox, which he had vainly wished to buy for + Margaret, Flora only gained a match-box of her own, well known always to + miss fire, but which had been decided to be good enough for the bazaar. + </p> + <p> + By fair means or foul, the commodities were cleared off, and, while the + sunbeams faded from the trodden grass, the crowds disappeared, and the + vague compliment, “a very good bazaar,” was exchanged between the + lingering sellers and their friends. + </p> + <p> + Flora was again to sleep at the Grange, and return the next day, for a + committee to be held over the gains, which were not yet fully ascertained. + So Dr. May gathered his flock together, and packed them, boys and all, + into the two conveyances, and Ethel bade Meta good-night, almost wondering + to hear her merry voice say, “It has been a delightful day, has it not? It + was so kind of your brother to take care of papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was delightful!” echoed Mary, “and I took one pound fifteen and + sixpence!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it will do great good to Cocksmoor,” added Meta, “but, if you want + real help, you know, you must come to us.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel smiled, but hurried her departure, for she saw Blanche again + tormented by Mr. George Rivers, to know what had become of the guard, + telling her that, if she would not say, he should be furiously jealous. + </p> + <p> + Blanche hid her face on Ethel’s arm, when they were in the carriage, and + almost cried with indignant “shamefastness.” That long-desired day had not + been one of unmixed happiness to her, poor child, and Ethel doubted + whether it had been so to any one, except, indeed, to Mary, whose desires + never soared so high but that they were easily fulfilled, and whose placid + content was not easily wounded. All she was wishing now was, that Harry + were at home to receive his paper-case. + </p> + <p> + The return to Margaret was real pleasure. The narration of all that had + passed was an event to her. She was so charmed with her presents, of every + degree; things, unpleasant at the time, could, by drollery in the + relating, be made mirthful fun ever after; Dr. May and the boys were so + comical in their observations—Mary’s wonder and simplicity came in + so amazingly—and there was such merriment at Ethel’s two precious + jars, that she could hardly wish they had not come to her. On one head + they were all agreed, in dislike of George Rivers, whom Mary pronounced to + be a detestable man, and, when gently called to order by Margaret, + defended it, by saying that Miss Bracy said it was better to detest than + to hate, while Blanche coloured up to the ears, and hid herself behind the + arm-chair; and Dr. May qualified the censure by saying, he believed there + was no great harm in the youth, but that he was shallow-brained and + extravagant, and, having been born in the days when Mr. Rivers had been + working himself up in the world, had not had so good an education as his + little half-sister. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what are you thinking of?” said her father, laying his hand on + Ethel’s arm, as she was wearily and pensively putting together the + scattered purchases before going up to bed. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking, papa, that there is a great deal of trouble taken in this + world for a very little pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “The trouble is the pleasure, in most cases, most misanthropical miss!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is true; but, if so, why cannot it be taken for some good?” + </p> + <p> + “They meant it to be good,” said Dr. May. “Come, I cannot have you severe + and ungrateful.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have been telling myself, papa, all along; but, now that the day has + come, and I have seen what jealousies, and competitions, and vanities, and + disappointments it has produced—not even poor little Blanche allowed + any comfort—I am almost sick at heart with thinking Cocksmoor was + the excuse!” + </p> + <p> + “Spectators are more philosophical than actors, Ethel. Others have not + been tying parcels all day.” + </p> + <p> + “I had rather do that than—But that is the ‘Fox and the Grapes,’” + said Ethel, smiling. “What I mean is, that the real gladness of life is + not in these great occasions of pleasure, but in the little side delights + that come in the midst of one’s work, don’t they, papa? Why is it worth + while to go and search for a day’s pleasuring?” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, my child! I don’t like to hear you talk so,” said Dr. May, looking + anxiously at her. “It may be too true, but it is not youthful nor hopeful. + It is not as your mother or I felt in our young days, when a treat was a + treat to us, and gladdened our hearts long before and after. I am afraid + you have been too much saddened with loss and care—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, papa!” said Ethel, rousing herself, though speaking huskily. “You + know I am your merry Ethel. You know I can be happy enough—only at + home—” + </p> + <p> + And Ethel, though she had tried to be cheerful, leaned against his arm, + and shed a few tears. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, she is tired out,” said Dr. May soothingly, yet half + laughing. “She is not a beauty or a grace, and she is thoughtful and + quiet, and so she moralises, instead of enjoying, as the world goes by. I + dare say a night’s rest will make all the difference in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but there is more to come. That Ladies’ Committee at Cocksmoor!” + </p> + <p> + “They are not there yet, Ethel. Good-night, you tired little cynic.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Back then, complainer... + Go, to the world return, nor fear to cast + Thy bread upon the waters, sure at last + In joy to find it after many days.—Christian Year. +</pre> + <p> + The next day Ethel had hoped for a return to reason, but behold, the world + was cross! The reaction of the long excitement was felt, Gertrude fretted, + and was unwell; Aubrey was pettish at his lessons; and Mary and Blanche + were weary, yawning and inattentive; every straw was a burden, and Miss + Bracy had feelings. + </p> + <p> + Ethel had been holding an interminable conversation with her in the + schoolroom, interrupted at last by a summons to speak to a Cocksmoor woman + at the back door, and she was returning from the kitchen, when the doctor + called her into his study. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel! what is all this? Mary has found Miss Bracy in floods of tears in + the schoolroom, because she says you told her she was ill-tempered.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you will be quite as much surprised,” said Ethel, somewhat + exasperated, “when you hear that you lacerated her feelings yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “I? Why, what did I do?” exclaimed Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “You showed your evident want of confidence in her.” + </p> + <p> + “I? What can I have done?” + </p> + <p> + “You met Aubrey and Gertrude in her charge, and you took them away at once + to walk with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that was it. She saw you had no confidence in her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, what on earth can you mean? I saw the two children dragging on + her, and I thought she would see nothing that was going on, and would be + glad to be released; and I wanted them to go with me and see Meta’s gold + pheasants.” + </p> + <p> + “That was the offence. She has been breaking her heart all this time, + because she was sure, from your manner, that you were displeased to see + them alone with her—eating bon-bons, I believe, and therefore took + them away.” + </p> + <p> + “Daisy is the worse for her bon-bons, I believe, but the overdose of them + rests on my shoulders. I do not know how to believe you, Ethel. Of course + you told her nothing of the kind crossed my mind, poor thing!” + </p> + <p> + “I told her so, over and over again, as I have done forty times before but + her feelings are always being hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing, poor thing! no doubt it is a trying situation, and she is + sensitive. Surely you are all forbearing with her?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope we are,” said Ethel; “but how can we tell what vexes her?” + </p> + <p> + “And what is this, of your telling her she was ill-tempered?” asked Dr. + May incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, papa,” said Ethel, softened, yet wounded by his thinking it so + impossible. “I had often thought I ought to tell her that these sensitive + feelings of hers were nothing but temper; and perhaps—indeed I know + I do—I partake of the general fractiousness of the house to-day, and + I did not bear it so patiently as usual. I did say that I thought it wrong + to foster her fancies; for if she looked at them coolly, she would find + they were only a form of pride and temper.” + </p> + <p> + “It did not come well from you, Ethel,” said the doctor, looking vexed. + </p> + <p> + “No, I know it did not,” said Ethel meekly; “but oh! to have these + janglings once a week, and to see no end to them!” + </p> + <p> + “Once a week?” + </p> + <p> + “It is really as often, or more often,” said Ethel. “If any of us + criticise anything the girls have done, if there is a change in any + arrangement, if she thinks herself neglected—I can’t tell you what + little matters suffice; she will catch me, and argue with me, till—oh, + till we are both half dead, and yet cannot stop ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you argue?” + </p> + <p> + “If I could only help it!” + </p> + <p> + “Bad management,” said the doctor, in a low, musing tone. “You want a + head!” and he sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, I did not mean to distress you. I would not have told you if I + had remembered—but I am worried to-day, and off my guard—” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, I thought you were the one on whom I could depend for bearing + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “These were such nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “What may seem nonsense to you is not the same to her. You must be + forbearing, Ethel. Remember that dependence is prone to morbid + sensitiveness, especially in those who have a humble estimate of + themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me that touchiness is more pride than humility,” said Ethel, + whose temper, already not in the smoothest state, found it hard that, + after having long borne patiently with these constant arguments, she + should find Miss Bracy made the chief object of compassion. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May’s chivalrous feeling caused him to take the part of the weak, and + he answered, “You know nothing about it. Among our own kith and kin we can + afford to pass over slights, because we are sure the heart is right—we + do not know what it is to be among strangers, uncertain of any claim to + their esteem or kindness. Sad! sad!” he continued, as the picture wrought + on him. “Each trifle seems a token one way or the other! I am very sorry I + grieved the poor thing yesterday. I must go and tell her so at once.” + </p> + <p> + He put Ethel aside, and knocked at the schoolroom door, while Ethel stood, + mortified. “He thinks I have been neglecting, or speaking harshly to her! + For fifty times that I have borne with her maundering, I have, at last, + once told her the truth; and for that I am accused of want of forbearance! + Now he will go and make much of her, and pity her, till she will think + herself an injured heroine, and be worse than ever; and he will do away + with all the good of my advice, and want me to ask her pardon for it—but + that I never will. It was only the truth, and I will stick to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel!” cried Mary, running up to her, then slackening her pace, and + whispering, “you did not tell Miss Bracy she was ill-tempered.” + </p> + <p> + “No—not exactly. How could you tell papa I did?” + </p> + <p> + “She said so. She was crying, and I asked what was the matter, and she + said my sister Ethel said she was ill-tempered.” + </p> + <p> + “She made a great exaggeration then,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure she was very cross all day,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is no business of yours,” said Ethel pettishly. “What now? + Mary, don’t look out at the street window.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Flora—the Grange carriage,” whispered Mary, as the two + sisters made a precipitate retreat into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Dr. May had been in the schoolroom. Miss Bracy had ceased her + tears before he came—they had been her retort on Ethel, and she had + not intended the world to know of them. Half disconcerted, half angry, she + heard the doctor approach. She was a gentle, tearful woman, one of those + who are often called meek, under an erroneous idea that meekness consists + in making herself exceedingly miserable under every kind of grievance; and + she now had a sort of melancholy satisfaction in believing that the young + ladies had fabricated an exaggerated complaint of her temper, and that she + was going to become injured innocence. To think herself accused of a great + wrong, excused her from perceiving herself guilty of a lesser one. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Bracy,” said Dr. May, entering with his frank, sweet look, “I am + concerned that I vexed you by taking the children to walk with me + yesterday. I thought such little brats would be troublesome to any but + their spoiling papa, but they would have been in safer hands with you. You + would not have been as weak as I was, in regard to sugar-plums.” Such + amends as these confused Miss Bracy, who found it pleasanter to be + lamentable with Ethel, than to receive a full apology for her imagined + offence from the master of the house. Feeling both small and absurd, she + murmured something of “oh, no,” and “being sure,” and hoped he was going, + so that she might sit down to pity herself, for those girls having made + her appear so ridiculous. + </p> + <p> + No such thing! Dr. May put a chair for her, and sat down himself, saying, + with a smile, “You see, you must trust us sometimes, and overlook it, if + we are less considerate than we might be. We have rough, careless habits + with each other, and forget that all are not used to them.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Bracy exclaimed, “Oh, no, never, they were most kind.” + </p> + <p> + “We wish to be,” said Dr. May, “but there are little neglects—or you + think there are. I will not say there are none, for that would be + answering too much for human nature, or that they are fanciful—for + that would be as little comfort as to tell a patient that the pain is only + nervous—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Bracy smiled, for she could remember instances when, after suffering + much at the time, she had found the affront imaginary. + </p> + <p> + He was glad of that smile, and proceeded. “You will let me speak to you, + as to one of my own girls? To them, I should say, use the only true cure. + Don’t brood over vexations, small or great, but think of them as trials + that, borne bravely, become blessings.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but Dr. May!” she exclaimed, shocked; “nothing in your house could + call for such feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope we are not very savage,” he said, smiling; “but, indeed, I still + say it is the safest rule. It would be the only one if you were really + among unkind people; and, if you take so much to heart an unlucky neglect + of mine, what would you do if the slight were a true one?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right; but my feelings were always over-sensitive;” and this she + said with a sort of complacency. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we must try to brace them,” said Dr. May, much as if prescribing + for her. “Will not you believe in our confidence and esteem, and harden + yourself against any outward unintentional piece of incivility?” + </p> + <p> + She felt as if she could at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “Or at least, try to forgive and forget them. Talking them over only + deepens the sense of them, and discussions do no good to any one. My + daughters are anxious to be your best friends, as I hope you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! they are most kind—” + </p> + <p> + “But, you see, I must say this,” added Dr. May, somewhat hesitating, “as + they have no mother to—to spare all this,” and then, growing + clearer, he proceeded, “I must beg you to be forbearing with them, and not + perplex yourself and them with arguing on what cannot be helped. They have + not the experience that could enable them to finish such a discussion + without unkindness; and it can only waste the spirits, and raise fresh + subjects of regret. I must leave you—I hear myself called.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Bracy began to be sensible that she had somewhat abused Ethel’s + patience; and the unfortunate speech about the source of her sensitiveness + did not appear to her so direfully cruel as at first. She hoped every one + would forget all about it, and resolved not to take umbrage so easily + another time, or else be silent about it, but she was not a person of much + resolution. + </p> + <p> + The doctor found that Meta Rivers and her brother had brought Flora home, + and were in the drawing-room, where Margaret was hearing another edition + of the history of the fair, and a by-play was going on, of teasing Blanche + about the chain. + </p> + <p> + George Rivers was trying to persuade her to make one for him; and her + refusal came out at last, in an almost passionate key, in the midst of the + other conversation—“No! I say-no!” + </p> + <p> + “Another no, and that will be yes.” + </p> + <p> + “No! I won’t! I don’t like you well enough!” + </p> + <p> + Margaret gravely sent Blanche and the other children away to take their + walk, and the brother and sister soon after took leave, when Flora called + Ethel to hasten to the Ladies’ Committee, that they might arrange the + disposal of the one hundred and fifty pounds, the amount of their gains. + </p> + <p> + “To see the fate of Cocksmoor,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I cannot manage the Stoneborough folk?” said Flora, looking + radiant with good humour, and conscious of power. “Poor Ethel! I am doing + you good against your will! Never mind, here is wherewith to build the + school, and the management will be too happy to fall into our hands. Do + you think every one is as ready as you are, to walk three miles and back + continually?” + </p> + <p> + There was sense in this; there always was sense in what Flora said, but it + jarred on Ethel; and it seemed almost unsympathising in her to be so gay, + when the rest were wearied or perturbed. Ethel would have been very glad + of a short space to recollect herself, and recover her good temper; but it + was late, and Flora hurried her to put on her bonnet, and come to the + committee. “I’ll take care of your interests,” she said, as they set out. + “You look as doleful as if you thought you should be robbed of Cocksmoor; + but that is the last thing that will happen, you will see.” + </p> + <p> + “It would not be acting fairly to let them build for us, and then for us + to put them out of the management,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, they want importance, not action. They will leave the real power + to us of themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “You like to build Cocksmoor with such instruments,” said Ethel, whose + ruffled condition made her forget her resolution not to argue with Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Bricks are made of clay!” said Flora. “There, that was said like Norman + himself! On your plan, we might have gone on for forty years, saving seven + shillings a year, and spending six, whenever there was an illness in the + place.” + </p> + <p> + “You, who used to dislike these people more than even I did!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “That was when I was an infant, my dear, and did not know how to deal with + them. I will take care—I will even save Cherry Elwood for you, if I + can. Alan Ernescliffe’s ten pounds is a noble weapon.” + </p> + <p> + “You always mean to manage everything, and then you have no time!” said + Ethel, sensible all the time of her own ill-humour, and of her sister’s + patience and amiability, yet propelled to speak the unpleasant truths that + in her better moods were held back. + </p> + <p> + Still Flora was good-tempered, though Ethel would almost have preferred + her being provoked; “I know,” she said, “I have been using you ill, and + leaving the world on your shoulders, but it was all in your service and + Cocksmoor’s; and now we shall begin to be reasonable and useful again.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Really, Ethel, to comfort you, I think I shall send you with Norman to + dine at Abbotstoke Grange on Wednesday. Mr. Rivers begged us to come; he + is so anxious to make it lively for his son.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, I do not think Mr. George Rivers and I should be likely to get + on together. What a bad style of wit! You heard what Mary said about him? + and Ethel repeated the doubt between hating and detesting. + </p> + <p> + “Young men never know how to talk to little girls,” was Flora’s reply. + </p> + <p> + At this moment they came up with one of the Miss Andersons, and Flora + began to exchange civilities, and talk over yesterday’s events with great + animation. Her notice always gave pleasure, brightened as it was by the + peculiarly engaging address which she had inherited from her father, and + which, therefore, was perfectly easy and natural. Fanny Anderson was + flattered and gratified, rather by the manner than the words, and, on + excellent terms, they entered the committee-room, namely, the + schoolmistress’s parlour. + </p> + <p> + There were nine ladies on the committee—nine muses, as the doctor + called them, because they produced anything but harmony. Mrs. Ledwich was + in the chair; Miss Rich was secretary, and had her pen and ink, and + account-book ready. Flora came in, smiling and greeting; Ethel, grave, + earnest, and annoyed, behind her, trying to be perfectly civil, but not at + all enjoying the congratulations on the successful bazaar. The ladies all + talked and discussed their yesterday’s adventures, gathering in little + knots, as they traced the fate of favourite achievements of their skill, + while Ethel, lugubrious and impatient, beside Flora, the only one not + engaged, and, therefore, conscious of the hubbub of clacking tongues. + </p> + <p> + At last Mrs. Ledwich glanced at the mistress’s watch, in its pasteboard + tower, in Gothic architecture, and insisted on proceeding to business. So + they all sat down round a circular table, with a very fine red, blue, and + black oilcloth, whose pattern was inseparably connected, in Ethel’s mind, + with absurdity, tedium, and annoyance. + </p> + <p> + The business was opened by the announcement of what they all knew before, + that the proceeds of the fancy fair amounted to one hundred and forty-nine + pounds fifteen shillings and tenpence. + </p> + <p> + Then came a pause, and Mrs. Ledwich said that next they had to consider + what was the best means of disposing of the sum gained in this most + gratifying manner. Every one except Flora, Ethel, and quiet Mrs. Ward, + began to talk at once. There was a great deal about Elizabethan + architecture, crossed by much more, in which normal, industrial, and + common things, most often met Ethel’s ear, with some stories, second-hand, + from Harvey Anderson, of marvellous mistakes; and, on the opposite side of + the table, there was Mrs. Ledwich, impressively saying something to the + silent Mrs. Ward, marking her periods with emphatic beats with her pencil, + and each seemed to close with “Mrs. Perkinson’s niece,” whom Ethel knew to + be Cherry’s intended supplanter. She looked piteously at Flora, who only + smiled and made a sign with her hand to her to be patient. Ethel fretted + inwardly at that serene sense of power; but she could not but admire how + well Flora knew how to bide her time, when, having waited till Mrs. + Ledwich had nearly wound up her discourse on Mrs. Elwood’s impudence, and + Mrs. Perkinson’s niece, she leaned towards Miss Boulder, who sat between, + and whispered to her, “Ask Mrs. Ledwich if we should not begin with some + steps for getting the land.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Boulder, having acted as conductor, the president exclaimed, “Just + so, the land is the first consideration. We must at once take steps for + obtaining it.” Thereupon Mrs. Ledwich, who “always did things + methodically,” moved, and Miss Anderson seconded, that the land requisite + for the school must be obtained, and the nine ladies held up their hands, + and resolved it. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rich duly recorded the great resolution, and Miss Boulder suggested + that, perhaps, they might write to the National Society, or Government, or + something; whereat Miss Rich began to flourish one of the very long goose + quills which stood in the inkstand before her, chiefly as insignia of + office, for she always wrote with a small, stiff metal pen. + </p> + <p> + Flora here threw in a query, whether the National Society, or Government, + or something, would give them a grant, unless they had the land to build + upon? + </p> + <p> + The ladies all started off hereupon, and all sorts of instances of + hardness of heart were mentioned, the most relevant of which was, that the + Church Building Society would not give a grant to Mr. Holloway’s + proprietary chapel at Whitford, when Mrs. Ledwich was suddenly struck with + the notion that dear Mr. Holloway might be prevailed on to come to + Stoneborough to preach a sermon in the Minster, for the benefit of + Cocksmoor, when they would all hold plates at the door. Flora gave Ethel a + tranquillising pat, and, as Mrs. Ledwich turned to her, asking whether she + thought Dr. May, or Dr. Hoxton, would prevail on him to come, she said, + with her winning look, “I think that consideration had better wait till we + have some more definite view. Had we not better turn to this land + question?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true!” they all agreed, but to whom did the land belong?—and + what a chorus arose! Miss Anderson thought it belonged to Mr. Nicolson, + because the wagons of slate had James Nicolson on them, and, if so, they + had no chance, for he was an old miser—and six stories illustrative + thereof ensued. Miss Rich was quite sure some Body held it, and Bodies + were slow of movement. Mrs. Ledwich remembered some question of enclosing, + and thought all waste lands were under the Crown; she knew that the + Stoneborough people once had a right to pasture their cattle, because Mr. + Southron’s cow had tumbled down a loam-pit when her mother was a girl. No, + that was on Far-view down, out the other way! Miss Harrison was positive + that Sir Henry Walkinghame had some right there, and would not Dr. May + apply to him? Mrs. Grey thought it ought to be part of the Drydale estate, + and Miss Boulder was certain that Mr. Bramshaw knew all about it. + </p> + <p> + Flora’s gentle voice carried conviction that she knew what she was saying, + when, at last, they left a moment for her to speak—(Ethel would have + done so long ago). “If I am not mistaken, the land is a copyhold of Sir + Henry Walkinghame, held under the manor of Drydale, which belongs to M—— + College, and is underlet to Mr. Nicolson.” + </p> + <p> + Everybody, being partially right, was delighted, and had known it all + before; Miss Boulder agreed with Miss Anderson that Miss May had stated it + as lucidly as Mr. Bramshaw could. The next question was, to whom to apply? + and, after as much as was expedient had been said in favour of each, it + was decided that, as Sir Henry Walkinghame was abroad, no one knew exactly + where, it would be best to go to the fountain-head, and write at once to + the principal of the college. But who was to write? Flora proposed Mr. + Ramsden as the fittest person, but this was negatived. Every one declared + that he would never take the trouble, and Miss Rich began to agitate her + pens. By this time, however, Mrs. Ward, who was opposite to the Gothic + clock-tower, began to look uneasy, and suggested, in a nervous manner, + that it was half-past five, and she was afraid Mr. Ward would be kept + waiting for his dinner. Mrs. Grey began to have like fears, that Mr. Grey + would be come in from his ride after banking hours. The other ladies began + to think of tea, and the meeting decided on adjourning till that day next + week, when the committee would sit upon Miss Rich’s letter. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Flora!” began Miss Rich, adhering to her as they parted with + the rest at the end of the street, “how am I to write to a principal? Am I + to begin Reverend Sir, or My Lord, or is he Venerable, like an archdeacon? + What is his name, and what am I to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is not a correspondence much in my line,” said Flora, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but you are so intimate with Dr. Hoxton, and your brothers at Oxford! + You must know—” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take advice,” said Flora good-naturedly. “Shall I come, and call + before Friday, and tell you the result?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pray! It will be a real favour! Good-morning—” + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Flora, as the sisters turned homewards, “Cherry is not going + to be turned out just yet!” + </p> + <p> + “How could you, Flora? Now they will have that man from Whitford, and you + said not a word against it!” + </p> + <p> + “What was the use of adding to the hubbub? A little opposition would make + them determined on having him. You will see, Ethel, we shall get the + ground on our own terms, and then it will be time to settle about the + mistress. If the harvest holidays were not over, we would try to send + Cherry to a training-school, so as to leave them no excuse.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate all this management and contrivance. It would be more honest to + speak our minds, and not pretend to agree with them.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ethel! have I spoken a word contrary to my opinion? It is not fit + for me, a girl of twenty, to go disputing and dragooning as you would have + me; but a little savoir faire, a grain of common sense, thrown in among + the babble, always works. Don’t you remember how Mrs. Ward’s sister told + us that a whole crowd of tottering Chinese ladies would lean on her, + because they felt her firm support, though it was out of sight?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel did not answer; she had self-control enough left not to retort upon + Flora’s estimate of herself, but the irritation was strong; she felt as if + her cherished views for Cocksmoor were insulted, as well as set aside, by + the place being made the occasion of so much folly and vain prattle, the + sanctity of her vision of self-devotion destroyed by such interference, + and Flora’s promises did not reassure her. She doubted Flora’s power, and + had still more repugnance to the means by which her sister tried to + govern; they did not seem to her straightforward, and she could not endure + Flora’s complacency in their success. Had it not been for her real love + for the place and people, as well as the principle which prompted that + love, she could have found it in her heart to throw up all concern with + it, rather than become a fellow-worker with such a conclave. + </p> + <p> + Such were Ethel’s feelings as the pair walked down the street; the one + sister bright and smiling with the good humour that had endured many + shocks all that day, all good nature and triumph, looking forward to + success, great benefit to Cocksmoor, and plenty of management, with credit + and praise to herself; the other, downcast and irritable, with annoyance + at the interference with her schemes, at the prospects of her school, and + at herself for being out of temper, prone to murmur or to reply tartly, + and not able to recover from her mood, but only, as she neared the house, + lapsing into her other trouble, and preparing to resist any misjudged, + though kind attempt of her father, to make her unsay her rebuke to Miss + Bracy. Pride and temper! Ah! Etheldred! where were they now? + </p> + <p> + Dr. May was at his study door as his daughters entered the hall, and Ethel + expected the order which she meant to question; but, instead of this, + after a brief inquiry after the doings of the nine muses, which Flora + answered, so as to make him laugh, he stopped Ethel, as she was going + upstairs, by saying, “I do not know whether this letter is intended for + Richard, or for me. At any rate, it concerns you most.” + </p> + <p> + The envelope was addressed to the Reverend Richard May, D. D., Market + Stoneborough, and the letter began, “Reverend Sir.” So far Ethel saw, and + exclaimed, with amusement, then, with a long-drawn “Ah!” and an + interjection, “My poor dear Una!” she became absorbed, the large tears—yes, + Ethel’s reluctant tears gathering slowly and dropping. + </p> + <p> + The letter was from a clergyman far away in the north of England, who said + he could not, though a stranger, resist the desire to send to Dr. May an + account of a poor girl, who seemed to have received great benefits from + him, or from some of his family, especially as she had shown great + eagerness on his proposing to write. + </p> + <p> + He said it was nearly a year since there had come into his parish a troop + of railwaymen and their families. For the most part, they were completely + wild and rude, unused to any pastoral care; but, even on the first Sunday, + he had noticed a keen-looking, freckled, ragged, unmistakably Irish girl, + creeping into church with a Prayer-book in her hand, and had afterwards + found her hanging about the door of the school. “I never saw a more + engaging, though droll, wild expression, than that with which she looked + up to me.” (Ethel’s cry of delight was at that sentence—she knew + that look too well, and had yearned after it so often!) “I found her far + better instructed than her appearance had led me to expect, and more truly + impressed with the spirit of what she had learned than it has often been + my lot to find children. She was perfect in the New Testament history”—(“Ah! + that she was not, when she went away!”)—“and was in the habit of + constantly attending church, and using morning and evening prayers.” (“Oh! + how I longed, when she went away, to beg her to keep them up! Dear Una.”) + “On my questions, as to how she had been taught, she always replied, ‘Mr. + Richard May,’ or ‘Miss Athel.’ You must excuse me if I have not correctly + caught the name from her Irish pronunciation.” (“I am afraid he thinks my + name is Athaliah! But oh! this dear girl! How I have wished to hear of + her!”) “Everything was answered with ‘Mr. Richard,’ or ‘Miss Athel’; and, + if I inquired further, her face would light up with a beam of gratitude, + and she would run on, as long as I could listen, with instances of their + kindness. It was the same with her mother, a wild, rude specimen of an + Irishwoman, whom I never could bring to church herself, but who ran on + loudly with their praises, usually ending with ‘Heavens be their bed,’ and + saying that Una had been quite a different girl since the young ladies and + gentleman found her out, and put them parables in her head. + </p> + <p> + “For my own part, I can testify that, in the seven months that she + attended my school, I never had a serious fault to find with her, but far + more often to admire the earnestness and devout spirit, as well as the + kindness and generosity apparent in all her conduct. Bad living, and an + unwholesome locality, have occasioned a typhus fever among the poor + strangers in this place, and Una was one of the first victims. Her mother, + almost from the first, gave her up, saying she knew she was one marked for + glory; and Una has been lying, day after day, in a sort of half-delirious + state, constantly repeating hymns and psalms, and generally, apparently + very happy, except when one distress occurred again and again, whether + delirious or sensible, namely, that she had never gone to wish Miss May + good-bye, and thank her; and that maybe she and Mr. Richard thought her + ungrateful; and she would sometimes beg, in her phraseology, to go on her + bare knees to Stoneborough, only to see Miss Athel again. + </p> + <p> + “Her mother, I should say, told me the girl had been half mad at not being + allowed to go and take leave of Miss May; and she had been sorry herself, + but her husband had come home suddenly from the search for work, and, + having made his arrangements, removed them at once, early the next morning—too + early to go to the young lady; though, she said, Una did—as they + passed through Stoneborough—run down the street before she was + aware, and she found her sobbing, fit to break her heart, before the + house.” (“Oh, why, why was I not up, and at the window! Oh, my Una! to + think of that!”) “When I spoke of writing to let Miss May hear how it was, + the poor girl caught at the idea with the utmost delight. Her weakness was + too great to allow her to utter many words distinctly, when I asked her + what she would have me say, but these were as well as I could understand:—‘The + blessing of one, that they have brought peace unto. Tell them I pray, and + will pray, that they may walk in the robe of glory—and tell Mr. + Richard that I mind what he said to me, of taking hold on the sure hope. + God crown all their crosses unto them, and fulfil all their desires unto + everlasting life.’ I feel that I am not rendering her words with all their + fervour and beauty of Irish expression, but I would that I could fully + retain and transmit them, for those who have so led her must, indeed, be + able to feel them precious. I never saw a more peaceful frame of penitence + and joy. She died last night, sleeping herself away, without more apparent + suffering, and will be committed to the earth on Sunday next, all her + fellow-scholars attending; and, I hope, profiting by the example she has + left. + </p> + <p> + “I have only to add my most earnest congratulations to those whose labour + of love has borne such blessed fruit; and, hoping you will pardon the + liberty, etc.” + </p> + <p> + Etheldred finished the letter through blinding tears, while rising sobs + almost choked her. She ran away to her own room, bolted the door, and + threw herself on her knees, beside her bed—now confusedly giving + thanks for such results—now weeping bitterly over her own + unworthiness. Oh! what was she in the sight of Heaven, compared with what + this poor girl had deemed her—with what this clergyman thought her? + She, the teacher, taught, trained, and guarded, from her infancy, by her + wise mother, and by such a father! She, to have given way all day to + pride, jealousy, anger, selfish love of her own will; when this poor girl + had embraced, and held fast, the blessed hope, from the very crumbs they + had brought her! Nothing could have so humbled the distrustful spirit that + had been working in Ethel, which had been scotched into silence—not + killed—when she endured the bazaar, and now had been indemnifying + itself by repining at every stumbling-block. Her own scholar’s blessing + was the rebuke that went most home to her heart, for having doubted + whether good could be worked in any way, save her own. + </p> + <p> + She was interrupted by Mary trying to open the door, and, admitting her, + heard her wonder at the traces of her tears, and ask what there was about + Una. Ethel gave her the letter, and Mary’s tears showered very fast—they + always came readily. “Oh, Ethel, how glad Richard will be!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it is all Richard’s doing. So much more good, and wise, and humble, + as he is. No wonder his teaching—” and Ethel sat down and cried + again. + </p> + <p> + Mary pondered. “It makes me very glad,” she said; “and yet I don’t know + why one cries. Ethel, do you think”—she came near, and whispered—“that + Una has met dear mamma there?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel kissed her. It was almost the first time Mary had spoken of her + mother; and she answered, “Dear Mary, we cannot tell—we may think. + It is all one communion, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Mary was silent, and, next time she spoke, it was to hope that Ethel would + tell the Cocksmoor children about Una. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was obliged to dress, and go downstairs to tea. Her father seemed to + have been watching for her, with his study door open, for he came to meet + her, took her hand, and said, in a low voice, “My dear child, I wish you + joy. This will be a pleasant message, to bid poor Ritchie good speed for + his ordination, will it not?” + </p> + <p> + “That it will, papa—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Ethel, have you been crying over it all this time?” said he, struck + by the sadness of her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Many other things, papa. I am so unworthy—but it was not our doing—but + the grace—” + </p> + <p> + “No, but thankful you may be, to have been the means of awakening the + grace!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel’s lips trembled. “And oh, papa! coming to-day, when I have been + behaving so ill to you, and Miss Bracy, and Flora, and all. + </p> + <p> + “Have you? I did not know you had behaved ill to me.” + </p> + <p> + “About Miss Bracy—I thought wrong things, if I did not say them. To + her, I believe, I said what was true, though it was harsh of me to say it, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “What? about pride and temper? It was true, and I hope it will do her + good. Cure a piping turkey with a peppercorn sometimes. I have spoken to + her, and told her to pluck up a little spirit; not fancy affronts, and not + to pester you with them. Poor child! you have been sadly victimised to-day + and yesterday. No wonder you were bored past patience, with that absurd + rabble of women!” + </p> + <p> + “It was all my own selfish, distrustful temper, wanting to have Cocksmoor + taken care of in my own way, and angry at being interfered with. I see it + now—and here this poor girl, that I thought thrown away—” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Ethel, you will often see the like. The main object may fail or fall + short, but the earnest painstaking will always be blessed some way or + other, and where we thought it most wasted, some fresh green shoot will + spring up, to show it is not we that give the increase. I suppose you will + write to Richard with this?” + </p> + <p> + “That I shall.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you may send this with it. Tell him my arm is tired and stiff + to-day, or I would have said more. He must answer the clergyman’s letter.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May gave Ethel his sheet not folded. His written words were now so few + as to be cherished amongst his children. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Richard,— + </p> + <p> + “May all your ministerial works be as blessed as this, your first labour + of love. I give you hearty joy of this strengthening blessing. Mine goes + with it—‘Only be strong and of a good courage!’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Your affectionate father, + R. May. +</pre> + <p> + “PS.—Margaret does not gain ground this summer; you must soon come + home and cheer her.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As late, engaged by fancy’s dream, + I lay beside a rapid stream, + I saw my first come gliding by, + Its airy form soon caught my eye; + Its texture frail, and colour various, + Like human hopes, and life precarious. + Sudden, my second caught my ear, + And filled my soul with constant fear; + I quickly rose, and home I ran, + My whole was hissing in the pan.—Riddle. +</pre> + <p> + Flora revised the letter to the principal, and the Ladies’ Committee + approved, after having proposed seven amendments, all of which Flora + caused to topple over by their own weakness. + </p> + <p> + After interval sufficient to render the nine ladies very anxious, the + principal wrote from Scotland, where he was spending the Long Vacation, + and informed them that their request should be laid before the next + college meeting. + </p> + <p> + After the committee had sat upon this letter, the two sisters walked home + in much greater harmony than after the former meeting. Etheldred had + recovered her candour, and was willing to own that it was not art, but + good sense, that gave her sister so much ascendancy. She began to be + hopeful, and to declare that Flora might yet do something even with the + ladies. Flora was gratified by the approval that no one in the house could + help valuing; “Positively,” said Flora, “I believe I may in time. You see + there are different ways of acting, as an authority, or as an equal.” + </p> + <p> + “The authority can move from without, the equal must from within,” said + Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Just so. We must circumvent their prejudices, instead of trying to beat + them down.” + </p> + <p> + “If you only could have the proper catechising restored!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait; you will see. Let me feel my ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Or if we could only abdicate into the hands of the rightful power!” + </p> + <p> + “The rightful power would not be much obliged to you.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the worst of it,” said Ethel. “It is sad to hear the sick people + say that Dr. May is more to them than any parson; it shows that they have + so entirely lost the notion of what their clergyman should be.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. May is the man most looked up to in this town,” said Flora, “and that + gives weight to us in the committee, but it is all in the using.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “You see, we have the prestige of better birth, and better education, as + well as of having the chief property in the town, and of being the largest + subscribers, added to his personal character,” said Flora; “so that + everything conspires to render us leaders, and our age alone prevented us + from assuming our post sooner.” + </p> + <p> + They were at home by this time, and entering the hall, perceived that the + whole party were in the lawn. The consolation of the children for the + departure of Hector and Tom, was a bowl of soap-suds and some tobacco + pipes, and they had collected the house to admire and assist, even + Margaret’s couch being drawn close to the window. + </p> + <p> + Bubbles is one of the most fascinating of sports. There is the soft foamy + mass, like driven snow, or like whipped cream. Blanche bends down to blow + “a honeycomb,” holding the bowl of the pipe in the water; at her gurgling + blasts there slowly heaves upwards the pile of larger, clearer bubbles, + each reflecting the whole scene, and sparkling with rainbow tints, until + Aubrey ruthlessly dashes all into fragments with his hand, and Mary + pronounces it stiff enough, and presents a pipe to little Daisy, who, + drawing the liquid into her mouth, throws it away with a grimace, and + declares that she does not like bubbles! But Aubrey stands with swelled + cheeks, gravely puffing at the sealing-waxed extremity. Out pours a + confused assemblage of froth, but the glassy globe slowly expands the + little branching veins, flowing down on either side, bearing an enlarging + miniature of the sky, the clouds, the tulip-tree. Aubrey pauses to + exclaim! but where is it? Try again! A proud bubble, as Mary calls it, a + peacock, in blended pink and green, is this transparent sphere, reflecting + and embellishing house, wall, and shrubs! It is too beautiful! It is gone! + Mary undertakes to give a lesson, and blows deliberately without the + slightest result. Again! She waves her disengaged hand in silent + exultation as the airy balls detach themselves, and float off on the + summer breeze, with a tardy, graceful, uncertain motion. Daisy rushes + after them, catches at them, and looks at her empty fingers with a puzzled + “All gone!” as plainly expressed by Toby, who snaps at them, and shakes + his head with offended dignity at the shock of his meeting teeth, while + the kitten frisks after them, striking at them with her paw, amazed at + meeting vacancy. + </p> + <p> + Even the grave Norman is drawn in. He agrees with Mary that bubbles used + to fly over the wall, and that one once went into Mrs. Richardson’s garret + window, when her housemaid tried to catch it with a pair of tongs, and + then ran downstairs screaming that there was a ghost in her room; but that + was in Harry’s time, the heroic age of the May nursery. + </p> + <p> + He accepts a pipe, and his greater height raises it into a favourable + current of air—the glistening balloon sails off. It flies, it soars; + no, it is coming down! The children shout at it, as if to drive it up, but + it wilfully descends—they rush beneath, they try to waft it on high + with their breath—there is a collision between Mary and Blanche—Aubrey + perceives a taste of soapy water—the bubble is no more—it is + vanished in his open mouth! + </p> + <p> + Papa himself has taken a pipe, and the little ones are mounted on chairs, + to be on a level with their tall elders. A painted globe is swimming + along, hesitating at first, but the dancing motion is tending upwards, the + rainbow tints glisten in the sunlight—all rush to assist it; if + breath of the lips can uphold it, it should rise, indeed! Up! above the + wall! over Mrs. Richardson’s elm, over the topmost branch—hurrah! + out of sight! Margaret adds her voice to the acclamations. Beat that if + you can, Mary! That doubtful wind keeps yours suspended in a graceful + minuet; its pace is accelerated—but earthwards! it has committed + self-destruction by running foul of a rose-bush. A general blank! + </p> + <p> + “You here, Ethel?” said Norman, as the elders laughed at each other’s + baffled faces. + </p> + <p> + “I am more surprised to find you here,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Excitement!” said Norman, smiling; “one cause is as good as another for + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very pretty sport,” said Dr. May. “You should write a poem on it, + Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “It is an exhausted subject,” said Norman; “bubble and trouble are too + obvious a rhyme.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! there it goes! It will be over the house! That’s right!” Every one + joined in the outcry. + </p> + <p> + “Whose is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Blanche’s—” + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah for Blanche! Well done, white Mayflower, there!” said the doctor, + “that is what I meant. See the applause gained by a proud bubble that + flies! Don’t we all bow down to it, and waft it up with the whole force of + our lungs, air as it is; and when it fairly goes out of sight, is there + any exhilaration or applause that surpasses ours?” + </p> + <p> + “The whole world being bent on making painted bubbles fly over the house,” + said Norman, far more thoughtfully than his father. “It is a fair pattern + of life and fame.” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking,” continued Dr. May, “what was the most unalloyed + exultation I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry’s, when you were made dux,” whispered Ethel to her brother. + </p> + <p> + “Not mine,” said Norman briefly. + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” said Dr. May, “I never knew such glorification as when Aubrey + Spencer climbed the poor old market-cross. We all felt ourselves made + illustrious for ever in his person.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, papa, when you got that gold medal must have been the grandest + time?” said Blanche, who had been listening. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May laughed, and patted her. “I, Blanche? Why, I was excessively + amazed, that is all, not in Norman’s way, but I had been doing next to + nothing to the very last, then fell into an agony, and worked like a + horse, thinking myself sure of failure, and that my mother and my uncle + would break their hearts.” + </p> + <p> + “But when you heard that you had it?” persisted Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then I found I must be a much cleverer fellow than I thought for!” + said he, laughing; “but I was ashamed of myself, and of the authorities, + for choosing such an idle dog, and vexed that other plodding lads missed + it, who deserved it more than I.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Norman, in a low voice, “that is what one always feels. + I had rather blow soap-bubbles!” + </p> + <p> + “Where was Dr. Spencer?” asked Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Not competing. He had been ready a year before, and had gained it, or I + should have had no chance. Poor Spencer! what would I not give to see him, + or hear of him?” + </p> + <p> + “The last was—how long ago?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Six years, when he was setting off, to return from Poonshedagore,” said + Dr. May, sighing. “I gave him up; his health was broken, and there was no + one to look after him. He was the sort of man to have a nameless grave, + and a name too blessed for fame.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel would have asked further of her father’s dear old friend, but there + were sounds, denoting an arrival, and Margaret beckoned to them as Miss + Rivers and her brother were ushered into the drawing-room; and Blanche + instantly fled away, with her basin, to hide herself in the schoolroom. + </p> + <p> + Meta skipped out, and soon was established on the grass, an attraction to + all the live creatures, as it seemed; for the kitten came, and was + caressed till her own graceful Nipen was ready to fight with the uncouth + Toby for the possession of a resting-place on the skirt of her habit, + while Daisy nestled up to her, as claiming a privilege, and Aubrey kept + guard over the dogs. + </p> + <p> + Meta inquired after a huge doll—Dr. Hoxton’s gift to Daisy, at the + bazaar. + </p> + <p> + “She is in Margaret’s wardrobe,” was the answer, “because Aubrey tied her + hands behind her, and was going to offer her up on the nursery grate.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aubrey, that was too cruel!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned Aubrey; “she was Iphigenia, going to be sacrificed.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary unconsciously acted Diana,” said Ethel, “and bore the victim away.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, was Daisy a willing Clytemnestra?” asked Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, she liked it,” said Aubrey, while Meta looked discomfited. + </p> + <p> + “I never could get proper respect paid to dolls,” said Margaret; “we deal + too much in their natural enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel, “my only doll was like a heraldic lion, couped in all + her parts.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry and Tom once made a general execution,” said Flora; “there was a + doll hanging to every baluster—the number made up with rag.” + </p> + <p> + George Rivers burst out laughing—his first sign of life; and Meta + looked as if she had heard of so many murders. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help feeling for a doll!” she said. “They used to be like sisters + to me. I feel as if they were wasted on children, that see no character in + them, and only call them Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you,” said Margaret. “If there had been no live dolls, + Richard and I should have reared our doll family as judiciously as + tenderly. There are treasures of carpentry still extant, that he made for + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad!” cried Meta, as if she had found another point of + union. “If I were to confess—there is a dear old Rose in the secret + recesses of my wardrobe. I could as soon throw away my sister—” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” cried her brother, laying hold of the child, “here, little Daisy, + will you give your doll to Meta?” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Gertrude Margaret May,” said the little round mouth. The fat + arm was drawn back, with all a baby’s dignity, and the rosy face was + hidden in Dr. May’s breast, at the sound of George Rivers’s broad laugh + and “Well done, little one!” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May put his arm round her, turned aside from him, and began talking to + Meta about Mr. Rivers. + </p> + <p> + Flora and Norman made conversation for the brother; and he presently asked + Norman to go out shooting with him, but looked so amazed on hearing that + Norman was no sportsman that Flora tried to save the family credit by + mentioning Hector’s love of a gun, which caused their guest to make a + general tender of sporting privileges; “Though,” added he, with a drawl, + “shooting is rather a nuisance, especially alone.” + </p> + <p> + Meta told Ethel, a little apart, that he was so tired of going out alone, + that he had brought her here, in search of a companion. + </p> + <p> + “He comes in at eleven o’clock, poor fellow, quite tired with solitude,” + said she, “and comes to me to be entertained.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” exclaimed Ethel. “What can you do?” + </p> + <p> + “What I can,” said Meta, laughing. “Whatever is not ‘a horrid nuisance’ to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a horrid nuisance to me,” said Ethel bluntly, “if my brothers + wanted me to amuse them all the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Your brothers, oh!” said Meta, as if that were very different; “besides, + you have so much more to do. I am only too glad and grateful when George + will come to me at all. You see I have always been too young to be his + companion, or find out what suited him, and now he is so very kind and + good-natured to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But what becomes of your business?” + </p> + <p> + “I get time, one way or another. There is the evening, very often, when I + have sung both him and papa to sleep. I had two hours, all to myself, + yesterday night,” said Meta, with a look of congratulation, “and I had a + famous reading of Thirlwall’s ‘Greece.’” + </p> + <p> + “I should think that such evenings were as bad as the mornings.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Ethel, don’t make me naughty. Large families, like yours, may have + merry, sociable evenings; but, I do assure you, ours are very pleasant. We + are so pleased to have George at home; and we really hope that he is + taking a fancy to the dear Grange. You can’t think how delighted papa is + to have him content to stay quietly with us so long. I must call him to go + back now, though, or papa will be kept waiting.” + </p> + <p> + When Ethel had watched the tall, ponderous brother help the bright fairy + sister to fly airily into her saddle, and her sparkling glance, and wave + of the hand, as she cantered off, contrasting with his slow bend, and + immobility of feature, she could not help saying that Meta’s life + certainly was not too charming, with her fanciful, valetudinarian father, + and that stupid, idealess brother. + </p> + <p> + “He is very amiable and good-natured,” interposed Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Norman, you are quite won by his invitation to shoot! How he despised + you for refusing—as much as you despised him.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak for yourself,” said Norman. “You fancy no sensible man likes + shooting, but you are all wrong. Some of our best men are capital + sportsmen. Why, there is Ogilvie—you know what he is. When I bring + him down here, you will see that there is no sort of sport that he is not + keen after.” + </p> + <p> + “This poor fellow will never be keen after anything,” said Dr. May. “I + pity him! Existence seems hard work to him!” + </p> + <p> + “We shall have baby calling him ‘the detestable’ next,” said Ethel. “What + a famous set down she gave him.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a thorough lady, and allows no liberties,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Margaret, “it is a proof of what I want to impression you. We + really must leave off calling her Daisy when strangers are there.” + </p> + <p> + “It is so much nicer,” pleaded Mary. + </p> + <p> + “The very reason,” said Margaret, “fondling names should be kept for our + innermost selves, not spread abroad, and made common. I remember when I + used to be called Peg-top—and Flora, Flossy—we were never + allowed to use the names when any visitor was near; and we were asked if + we could not be as fond of each other by our proper names. I think it was + felt that there was a want of reserve in publishing our pet words to other + people.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true,” said Dr. May; “baby-names never ought to go beyond home. It + is the fashion to use them now; and, besides the folly, it seems, to me, + an absolute injury to a girl, to let her grow up, with a nickname attached + to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay!” chimed in Norman, “I hear men talking of Henny, and Loo, and the + like; and you can’t think how glad I have been that my sisters could not + be known by any absurd word!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a case where self-respect would make others behave properly,” said + Flora. + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Dr. May; “but if girls won’t keep up their own dignity, their + friends’ duty is to do it for them. The mischief is in the intimate + friends, who blazon the words to every one.” + </p> + <p> + “And then they call one formal, for trying to protect the right name,” + said Flora. “It is, one-half of it, silliness, and, the other, affectation + of intimacy.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, I know,” said Mary, “why you are so careful to call Meta Miss + Rivers, to all the people here.” + </p> + <p> + “I should hope so!” cried Norman indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, Mary,” said Margaret, “I should hope lady-like feelings would + prevent you from calling her Meta before—” + </p> + <p> + “The Andersons!” cried Ethel, laughing. “Margaret was just going to say + it. We only want Harry, to exact the forfeit! Poor dear little + humming-bird! It gives one an oppression on the chest, to think of her + having that great do-nothing brother on her hands all day.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Norman, “I shall know where I am not to look when I want + a sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Ethel, “when you come yawning to me to find amusement for you, + you will see what I shall do!” + </p> + <p> + “Stand over me with a stick while I print A B C for Cocksmoor, I suppose,” + said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Well! why not? People are much better doing something than nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “What, you won’t even let me blow bubbles!” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “That is too intellectual, as papa makes it,” said Ethel. “By the bye, + Norman,” she added, as she had now walked with him a little apart, “it + always was a bubble of mine that you should try for the Newdigate prize. + Ha!” as the colour rushed into his cheeks, “you really have begun!” + </p> + <p> + “I could not help it, when I heard the subject given out for next year. + Our old friend, Decius Mus.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you finished?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means, but it brought a world of notions into my head, such as I + could not but set down. Now, Ethel, do oblige me, do write another, as we + used in old times.” + </p> + <p> + “I had better not,” said Ethel, standing thoughtful. “If I throw myself + into it, I shall hate everything else, and my wits will be woolgathering. + I have neither time nor poetry enough.” + </p> + <p> + “You used to write English verse.” + </p> + <p> + “I was cured of it.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted money for Cocksmoor, and after persuading papa, I got leave to + send a ballad about a little girl and a white rose to that school + magazine. I don’t think papa liked it, but there were some verses that + touched him, and one had seen worse. It was actually inserted, and I was + in high feather, till, oh, Norman! imagine Richard getting hold of this + unlucky thing, without a notion where it came from! Margaret put it before + him, to see what he would say to it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it was not like a young lady’s anonymous composition in a + story.” + </p> + <p> + “By no means. Imagine Ritchie picking my poor metaphors to pieces, and + weighing every sentimental line! And all in his dear old simplicity, + because he wanted to understand it, seeing that Margaret liked it. He had + not the least intention of hurting my feelings, but never was I so + annihilated! I thought he was doing it on purpose, till I saw how + distressed he was when he found it out; and worse than all was, his saying + at the end that he supposed it was very fine, but he could not understand + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see it.” + </p> + <p> + “Some time or other; but let me see Decius.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you give up verses because Richard could not understand them?” + </p> + <p> + “No; because I had other fish to fry. And I have not given them up + altogether. I do scrabble down things that tease me by running in my head, + when I want to clear my brains, and know what I mean; but I can’t do it + without sitting up at night, and that stupefies me before breakfast. And + as to making bubbles of them, Ritchie has cured me of that!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a pity!” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, let me see Decius. I know he is splendid.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would have tried, for all my best ideas are stolen from you.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel prevailed by following her brother to his room, and perching herself + on the window-sill, while he read his performance from many slips of + paper. The visions of those boyish days had not been forgotten, the + Vesuvius scenery was much as Ethel had once described it, but with far + more force and beauty; there was Decius’s impassioned address to the + beauteous land he was about to leave, and the remembrances of his Roman + hearth, his farm, his children, whom he quitted for the pale shadows of an + uncertain Elysium. There was a great hiatus in the middle, and Norman had + many more authorities to consult, but the summing-up was nearly complete, + and Ethel thought the last lines grand, as they spoke of the noble + consul’s name living for evermore, added to the examples that nerve ardent + souls to devote life, and all that is precious, to the call of duty. Fame + is not their object. She may crown their pale brows, but for the good of + others, not their own, a beacon light to the world. Self is no object of + theirs, and it is the casting self behind that wins—not always the + visible earthly strife, but the combat between good and evil. They are the + true victors, and, whether chronicled or forgotten, true glory rests on + their heads, the sole true glory that man can attain, namely, the + reflected beams that crown them as shadowy types of Him whom Decius knew + not—the Prince who gave Himself for His people, and thus rendered + death, for Truth’s sake, the highest boon to mortal man. + </p> + <p> + “Norman, you must finish it! When will it be given in?” + </p> + <p> + “Next spring, if at all, but keep the secret, Ethel. I cannot have my + father’s hopes raised.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you of a motto,” said Ethel. “Do you remember Mrs. Hemans’ + mention of a saying of Sir Walter Scott—‘Never let me hear that + brave blood has been shed in vain. It sends a roaring voice down through + all time.’” + </p> + <p> + “If,” said Norman, rather ashamed of the enthusiasm which, almost + approaching to the so-called “funny state” of his younger days, had + trembled in his voice, and kindled his eye—“if you won’t let me put + ‘nascitur ridiculus mus.’” + </p> + <p> + “Too obvious,” said Ethel. “Depend upon it, every undergraduate has + thought of it already.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was always very happy over Norman’s secrets, and went about smiling + over Decius, and comparing her brother with such a one as poor Meta was + afflicted with; wasting some superfluous pity and contempt on the weary + weight that was inflicted on the Grange. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of me?” said Margaret, one afternoon. “I have had Mr. + George Rivers here for two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone! what could bring him here?” + </p> + <p> + “I told him that every one was out, but he chose to sit down, and seemed + to be waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “How could you get on?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! we asked a few questions, and brought out remarks, with great + difficulty, at long intervals. He asked me if lying here was not a great + nuisance, and, at last, he grew tired of twisting his moustache, and went + away.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust it was a call to take leave.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he thinks he shall sell out, for the army is a great nuisance.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have got into his confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he said he wanted to settle down, but living with one’s father was + such a nuisance.” + </p> + <p> + “By the bye,” cried Ethel, laughing, “Margaret, it strikes me that this is + a Dumbiedikes’ courtship!” + </p> + <p> + “Of yourself?” said Margaret slyly. + </p> + <p> + “No, of Flora. You know, she has often met him at the Grange and other + places, and she does contrive to amuse him, and make him almost animated. + I should not think he found her a great nuisance.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor man! I am sorry for him!” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! rejection will be very good for him, and give him something to think + of.” + </p> + <p> + “Flora will never let it come to that,” said Margaret. “But not one word + about it, Ethel!” + </p> + <p> + Margaret and Etheldred kept their eyes open, and sometimes imagined, + sometimes laughed at themselves for their speculations, and so October + began; and Ethel laughed, as she questioned whether the Grange would feel + the Hussar’s return to his quarters, as much as home would the departure + of their scholar for Balliol. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + So, Lady Flora, take my lay, + And if you find a meaning there, + Oh! whisper to your glass, and say, + What wonder, if he thinks me fair.—Tennyson. +</pre> + <p> + Flora and Norman were dining with one of their county acquaintance, and + Dr. May had undertaken to admit them on their return. The fire shone red + and bright, as it sank calmly away, and the timepiece and clock on the + stairs had begun their nightly duet of ticking, the crickets chirped in + the kitchen, and the doctor sat alone. His book lay with unturned pages, + as he sat musing, with eyes fixed on the fire, living over again his own + life, the easy bright days of his youth, when, without much pains on his + own part, the tendencies of his generous affectionate disposition, and the + influences of a warm friendship, and an early attachment, had guarded him + from evil—then the period when he had been perfectly happy, and the + sobering power of his position had been gradually working on him; but + though always religious and highly principled, the very goodness of his + natural character preventing him from perceiving the need of self-control, + until the shock that changed the whole tenor of his life, and left him, + for the first time, sensible of his own responsibility, but with + inveterate habits of heedlessness and hastiness that love alone gave him + force to combat. He was now a far gentler man. His younger children had + never seen, his elder had long since forgotten, his occasional bursts of + temper, but he suffered keenly from their effects, especially as regarded + some of his children. Though Richard’s timidity had been overcome, and + Tom’s more serious failures had been remedied, he was not without anxiety, + and had a strange unsatisfactory feeling as regarded Flora. He could not + feel that he fathomed her! She reminded him of his old Scottish + father-in-law, Professor Mackenzie, whom he had never understood, nor, if + the truth were known, liked. Her dealings with the Ladies’ Committee were + so like her grandfather’s canny ways in a public meeting, that he laughed + over them—but they were not congenial to him. Flora was a most + valuable person; all that she undertook prospered, and he depended + entirely on her for household affairs, and for the care of Margaret; but, + highly as he esteemed her, he was a little afraid of her cool prudence; + she never seemed to be in any need of him, nor to place any confidence in + him, and seemed altogether so much older and wiser than he could feel + himself—pretty girl as she was—and very pretty were her fine + blue eyes and clear skin, set off by her dark brown hair. There arose the + vision of eyes as blue, skin as clear, but of light blonde locks, and + shorter, rounder, more dove-like form, open, simple, loving face, and + serene expression, that had gone straight to his heart, when he first saw + Maggie Mackenzie making tea. + </p> + <p> + He heard the wheels, and went out to unbolt the door. Those were a pair + for a father to be proud of—Norman, of fine stature and noble looks, + with his high brow, clear thoughtful eye, and grave intellectual eagle + face, lighting into animation with his rare, sweet smile; and Flora, so + tall and graceful, and in her white dress, picturesquely half concealed by + her mantle, with flowers in her hair, and a deepened colour in her cheek, + was a fair vision, as she came in from the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Well! was it a pleasant party?” + </p> + <p> + Norman related the circumstances, while his sister remained silently + leaning against the mantel-piece, looking into the fire, until he took up + his candle, and bade them good-night. Dr. May was about to do the same, + when she held out her hand. “One moment, if you please, dear papa,” she + said; “I think you ought to know it.” + </p> + <p> + “What, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. George Rivers, papa—” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said Dr. May, beginning to smile. “So that is what he is at, is it? + But what an opportunity to take.” + </p> + <p> + “It was in the conservatory,” said Flora, a little hurt, as her father + discovered by her tone. “The music was going on, and I don’t know that + there could have been—” + </p> + <p> + “A better opportunity, eh?” said Dr. May, laughing; “well, I should have + thought it awkward; was he very much discomposed?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” said Flora, looking down and hesitating, “that he had better + come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! so you shifted the ungracious office to me. I am very glad to + spare you, my dear; but it was hard on him to raise his hopes.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” faltered Flora, “that you could not disapprove—” + </p> + <p> + “Flora—” and he paused, completely confounded, while his daughter + was no less surprised at the manner in which her news was received. Each + waited for the other to speak, and Flora turned away, resting her head + against the mantel-piece. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said he, laying his hand on her shoulder, “you do not mean that + you like this man?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not think that you would be against it,” said Flora, in a choked + voice, her face still averted. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows, I would not be against anything for your happiness, my + dear,” he answered; “but have you considered what it would be to spend + your life with a man that has not three ideas! not a resource for + occupying himself—a regular prey to ennui—one whom you could + never respect!” He had grown more and more vehement, and Flora put her + handkerchief to her eyes, for tears of actual disappointment were flowing. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” he said, touched, but turning it off by a smile, “we will + not talk of it any more to-night. It is your first offer, and you are + flattered, but we know + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Colours seen by candle-light, + Will not bear the light of day.’ +</pre> + <p> + “There, good-night, Flora, my dear—we will have a-tete-a-tete in the + study before breakfast, when you have had time to look into your own + mind.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed her affectionately, and went upstairs with her, stopping at her + door to give her another embrace, and to say “Bless you, my dear child, + and help you to come to a right decision—” + </p> + <p> + Flora was disappointed. She had been too highly pleased at her conquest to + make any clear estimation of the prize, individually considered. Her + vanity magnified her achievement, and she had come home in a flutter of + pleasure, at having had such a position in society offered to her, and + expecting that her whole family would share her triumph. Gratified by + George Rivers’s admiration, she regarded him with favour and complacency; + and her habit of considering herself as the most sensible person in her + sphere made her so regard his appreciation of her, that she was blinded to + his inferiority. It must be allowed that he was less dull with her than + with most others. + </p> + <p> + And, in the midst of her glory, when she expected her father to be + delighted and grateful—to be received as a silly girl, ready to + accept any proposal, her lover spoken of with scorn, and the advantages of + the match utterly passed over, was almost beyond endurance. A physician, + with eleven children dependent on his practice, to despise an offer from + the heir of such a fortune! But that was his customary romance! She + forgave him, when it occurred to her that she was too important, and + valuable, to be easily spared; and a tenderness thrilled through her, as + she looked at the sleeping Margaret’s pale face, and thought of + surrendering her and little Daisy to Ethel’s keeping. And what would + become of the housekeeping? She decided, however, that feelings must not + sway her—out of six sisters some must marry, for the good of the + rest. Blanche and Daisy should come and stay with her, to be formed by the + best society; and, as to poor dear Ethel, Mrs. Rivers would rule the + Ladies’ Committee for her with a high hand, and, perhaps, provide + Cocksmoor with a school at her sole expense. What a useful, admirable + woman she would be! The doctor would be the person to come to his senses + in the morning, when he remembered Abbotstoke, Mr. Rivers, and Meta. + </p> + <p> + So Flora met her father, the next morning, with all her ordinary + composure, in which he could not rival her, after his sleepless, anxious + night. His looks of affectionate solicitude disconcerted what she had + intended to say, and she waited, with downcast eyes, for him to begin. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Flora,” he said at last, “have you thought?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know any cause against it?” said Flora, still looking down. + </p> + <p> + “I know almost nothing of him. I have never heard anything of his + character or conduct. Those would be a subject of inquiry, if you wish to + carry this on—” + </p> + <p> + “I see you are averse,” said Flora. “I would do nothing against your + wishes—” + </p> + <p> + “My wishes have nothing to do with it,” said Dr. May. “The point is—that + I must do right, as far as I can, as well as try to secure your happiness; + and I want to be sure that you know what you are about.” + </p> + <p> + “I know he is not clever,” said Flora; “but there may be many solid + qualities without talent.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the last person to deny it; but where are these solid qualities? I + cannot see the recommendation!” + </p> + <p> + “I place myself in your hands,” said Flora, in a submissive tone, which + had the effect of making him lose patience. + </p> + <p> + “Flora, Flora! why will you talk as if I were sacrificing you to some + dislike or prejudice of my own! Don’t you think I should only rejoice to + have such a prosperous home offered to you, if only the man were worthy?” + </p> + <p> + “If you do not think him so, of course there is an end of it,” said Flora, + and her voice showed suppressed emotion. + </p> + <p> + “It is not what I think, in the absence of proof, but what you think, + Flora. What I want you to do is this—to consider the matter fairly. + Compare him with—I’ll not say with Norman—but with Richard, + Alan, Mr. Wilmot. Do you think you could rely on him—come to him for + advice?” (Flora never did come to any one for advice.) “Above all—do + you think him likely to be a help, or a hindrance, in doing right?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you underrate him,” said Flora steadily; “but, of course, if you + dislike it—though, I think, you would change your mind if you knew + him better—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, as if to himself, “it is not always the most worthy;” + then continued, “I have no dislike to him. Perhaps I may find that you are + right. Since your mind is made up, I will do this: first, we must be + assured of his father’s consent, for they may very fairly object, since + what I can give you is a mere nothing to them. Next, I shall find out what + character he bears in his regiment, and watch him well myself; and, if + nothing appear seriously amiss, I will not withhold my consent. But, + Flora, you should still consider whether he shows such principle and right + feeling as you can trust to.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, papa. I know you will do all that is kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind, you must not consider it an engagement, unless all be + satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do as you please.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel perceived that something was in agitation, but the fact did not + break upon her till she came to Margaret, after the schoolroom reading, + and heard Dr. May declaiming away in the vehement manner that always + relieved him. + </p> + <p> + “Such a cub!” These were the words that met her ear; and she would have + gone away, but he called her. “Come in, Ethel; Margaret says you guessed + at this affair!” + </p> + <p> + “At what affair!” exclaimed Ethel. “Oh, it is about Flora. Poor man; has + he done it?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor! He is not the one to be pitied!” said her father. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean that she likes him?” + </p> + <p> + “She does though! A fellow with no more brains than a turnip lantern!” + </p> + <p> + “She does not mean it?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she does! Very submissive, and proper spoken, of course, but bent on + having him; so there is nothing left for me but to consent—provided + Mr. Rivers does, and he should turn out not to have done anything + outrageous; but there’s no hope of that—he has not the energy. What + can possess her? What can she see to admire?” + </p> + <p> + “He is good-natured,” said Margaret, “and rather good-looking—” + </p> + <p> + “Flora has more sense. What on earth can be the attraction?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it is partly the grandeur—” said Ethel. She broke off + short, quite dismayed at the emotion she had excited. Dr. May stepped + towards her, almost as if he could have shaken her. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel,” he cried, “I won’t have such motives ascribed to your sister!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel tried to recollect what she had said that was so shocking, for the + idea of Flora’s worldly motives was no novelty to her. They had appeared + in too many instances; and, though frightened at his anger, she stood + still, without unsaying her words. + </p> + <p> + Margaret began to explain away. “Ethel did not mean, dear papa—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Dr. May, his passionate manner giving way to dejection. “The + truth is, that I have made home so dreary, that my girls are ready to take + the first means of escaping.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Margaret’s tears sprang forth, and, looking up imploringly, she + exclaimed, “Oh, papa, papa! it was no want of happiness! I could not help + it. You know he had come before—” + </p> + <p> + Any reproach to her had been entirely remote from his thoughts, and he was + at once on his knee beside her, soothing and caressing, begging her + pardon, and recalling whatever she could thus have interpreted. Meanwhile, + Ethel stood unnoticed and silent, making no outward protestation, but with + lips compressed, as in her heart of hearts she passed the resolution—that + her father should never feel this pain on her account. Leave him who + might, she would never forsake him; nothing but the will of Heaven should + part them. It might be hasty and venturesome. She knew not what it might + cost her; but, where Ethel had treasured her resolve to work for + Cocksmoor, there she also laid up her secret vow—that no earthly + object should be placed between her and her father. + </p> + <p> + The ebullition of feeling seemed to have restored Dr. May’s calmness, and + he rose, saying, “I must go to my work; the man is coming here this + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Where shall you see him?” Margaret asked. + </p> + <p> + “In my study, I suppose. I fear there is no chance of Flora’s changing her + mind first. Or do you think one of you could talk to her, and get her + fairly to contemplate the real bearings of the matter?” And, with these + words, he left the room. + </p> + <p> + Margaret and Ethel glanced at each other; and both felt the + impenetrability of Flora’s nature, so smooth, that all thrusts glided off. + </p> + <p> + “It will be of no use,” said Ethel; “and, what is more, she will not have + it done.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray try; a few of your forcible words would set it in a new light.” + </p> + <p> + “Why! Do you think she will attend to me, when she has not chosen to heed + papa?” said Ethel, with an emphasis of incredulity. “No; whatever Flora + does, is done deliberately, and unalterably.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, I don’t know whether it is not our duty,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “More yours than mine,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + Margaret flushed up. “Oh, no, I cannot!” she said, always timid, and + slightly defective in moral courage. She looked so nervous and shaken by + the bare idea of a remonstrance with Flora, that Ethel could not press + her; and, though convinced that her representation would be useless, she + owned that her conscience would rest better after she had spoken. “But + there is Flora, walking in the garden with Norman,” she said. “No doubt he + is doing it.” + </p> + <p> + So Ethel let it rest, and attended to the children’s lessons, during which + Flora came into the drawing-room, and practised her music, as if nothing + had happened. + </p> + <p> + Before the morning was over, Ethel contrived to visit Norman in the + dining-room, where he was wont to study, and asked him whether he had made + any impression on Flora. + </p> + <p> + “What impression do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, about this concern,” said Ethel; “this terrible man, that makes papa + so unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa unhappy! Why, what does he know against him? I thought the Riverses + were his peculiar pets.” + </p> + <p> + “The Riverses! As if, because one liked the sparkling stream, one must + like a muddy ditch.” + </p> + <p> + “What harm do you know of him?” said Norman, with much surprise and + anxiety, as if he feared that he had been doing wrong, in ignorance. + </p> + <p> + “Harm! Is he not a regular oaf?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ethel, if you wait to marry till you find some one as clever as + yourself, you will wait long enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think it right for a woman to marry a man decidedly her + inferior.” + </p> + <p> + “We have all learned to think much too highly of talent,” said Norman + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care for mere talent—people are generally more sensible + without it; but, one way or other, there ought to be superiority on the + man’s side.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, who says there is not?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Norman! Why, this George Rivers is really below the average! you + cannot deny that! Did you ever meet any one so stupid?” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” said Norman, considering; and, speaking very innocently, “I + cannot see why you think so. I do not see that he is at all less capable + of sustaining a conversation than Richard.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel sat down, perfectly breathless with amazement and indignation. + </p> + <p> + Norman saw that he had shocked her very much. “I do not mean,” he said, + “that we have not much more to say to Richard; all I meant to say was, + merely as to the intellect.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you,” said Ethel, “it is not the intellect. Richard! why, you know + how we respect, and look up to him. Dear old Ritchie! with his goodness, + and earnestness, and right judgment—to compare him to that man! + Norman, Norman, I never thought it of you!” + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand me, Ethel. I only cited Richard, as a person who + proves how little cleverness is needed to insure respect.” + </p> + <p> + “And, I tell you, that cleverness is not the point.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the only objection you have put forward.” + </p> + <p> + “I did wrong,” said Ethel. “It is not the real one. It is earnest goodness + that one honours in Richard. Where do we find it in this man, who has + never done anything but yawn over his self indulgence?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Ethel, you are working yourself up into a state of foolish + prejudice. You and papa have taken a dislike to him; and you are + overlooking a great deal of good safe sense and right thinking. I know his + opinions are sound, and his motives right. He has been undereducated, we + all see, and is not very brilliant or talkative; but I respect Flora for + perceiving his solid qualities.” + </p> + <p> + “Very solid and weighty, indeed!” said Ethel ironically. “I wonder if she + would have seen them in a poor curate.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, you are allowing yourself to be carried, by prejudice, a great + deal too far. Are such imputations to be made, wherever there is + inequality of means? It is very wrong! very unjust!” + </p> + <p> + “So papa said,” replied Ethel, as she looked sorrowfully down. “He was + very angry with me for saying so. I wish I could help feeling as if that + were the temptation.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought,” said Norman. “You will be sorry, if you set yourself, and + him, against it.” + </p> + <p> + “I only wish you to know what I feel; and, I think, Margaret and papa do,” + said Ethel humbly; “and then you will not think us more unjust than we + are. We cannot see anything so agreeable or suitable in this man as to + account for Flora’s liking, and we do not feel convinced of his being good + for much. That makes papa greatly averse to it, though he does not know + any positive reason for refusing; and we cannot feel certain that she is + doing quite right, or for her own happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be convinced,” said Norman cheerfully. “You will find out the + good that is under the surface when you have seen more of him. I have had + a good deal of talk with him.” + </p> + <p> + A good deal of talk to him would have been more correct, if Norman had but + been aware of it. He had been at the chief expense of the conversation + with George Rivers, and had taken the sounds of assent, which he obtained, + as evidences of his appreciation of all his views. Norman had been + struggling so long against his old habit of looking down on Richard, and + exalting intellect; and had seen, in his Oxford life, so many ill-effects + of the knowledge that puffeth up, that he had come to have a certain + respect for dullness, per se, of which George Rivers easily reaped the + benefit, when surrounded by the halo, which everything at Abbotstoke + Grange bore in the eyes of Norman. + </p> + <p> + He was heartily delighted at the proposed connection, and his genuine + satisfaction not only gratified Flora, and restored the equanimity that + had been slightly disturbed by her father, but it also reassured Ethel and + Margaret, who could not help trusting in his judgment, and began to hope + that George might be all he thought him. + </p> + <p> + Ethel, finding that there were two ways of viewing the gentleman, doubted + whether she ought to express her opinion. It was Flora’s disposition, and + the advantages of the match, that weighed most upon her, and, in spite of + her surmise having been treated as so injurious, she could not rid herself + of the burden. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May was not so much consoled by Norman’s opinion as Ethel expected. + The corners of his mouth curled up a little with diversion, and though he + tried to express himself glad, and confident in his son’s judgment, there + was the same sort of involuntary lurking misgiving with which he had + accepted Sir Matthew Fleet’s view of Margaret’s case. + </p> + <p> + There was no danger that Dr. May would not be kind and courteous to the + young man himself. It was not his fault if he were a dunce, and Dr. May + perceived that his love for Flora was real, though clumsily expressed. He + explained that he could not sanction the engagement till he should be + better informed of the young gentleman’s antecedents; this was, as George + expressed it, a great nuisance, but his father agreed that it was quite + right, in some doubt, perhaps, as to how Dr. May might be satisfied. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + Ye cumbrous fashions, crowd not on my head. + Mine be the chip of purest white, + Swan-like; and, as her feathers light, + When on the still wave spread; + And let it wear the graceful dress + Of unadorned simpleness. + Catherine Fanshaw’s ‘Parody on Grey’. +</pre> + <p> + Nothing transpired to the discredit of Lieutenant Rivers. He had spent a + great deal of money, but chiefly for want of something else to do, and, + though he was not a subject for high praise, there was no vice in him—no + more than in an old donkey—as Dr. May declared, in his concluding + paroxysm of despair, on finding that, though there was little to reconcile + him to the engagement, there was no reasonable ground for thwarting his + daughter’s wishes. He argued the matter once more with her, and, finding + her purpose fixed, he notified his consent, and the rest of the family + were admitted to a knowledge of the secret which they had never suspected. + </p> + <p> + Etheldred could not help being gratified with the indignation it excited. + With one voice, Mary and Blanche declared that they would never give up + the title of “the detestable,” and would not make him any presents; + certainly not watch-chains! Miss Bracy, rather alarmed, lectured them just + enough to make them worse; and Margaret, overhearing Blanche instructing + Aubrey in her own impertinences, was obliged to call her to her sofa, and + assure her that she was unkind to Flora, and that she must consider Mr. + George Rivers as her brother. + </p> + <p> + “Never my brother like Harry!” exclaimed Mary indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed; nor like Alan!” exclaimed Blanche. “And I won’t call him + George, I am determined, if it is ever so!” + </p> + <p> + “It will not matter to him what such little girls call him,” said + Margaret. + </p> + <p> + Blanche was so annihilated, that the sound of a carriage, and of the door + bell, was a great satisfaction to her. + </p> + <p> + Meta Rivers came flying into the room, her beautiful eyes dancing, and her + cheeks glowing with pleasure, as, a little timidly, she kissed Margaret; + while Ethel, in a confused way, received Mr. Rivers, in pain for her own + cold, abrupt manner, in contrast with his gentle, congratulating + politeness. + </p> + <p> + Meta asked, blushing, and with a hesitating voice, for their dear Flora; + Mary offered to call her, but Meta begged to go herself, and thus was + spared the awkwardness that ensued. Ethel was almost vexed with herself, + as ungrateful, when she saw Mr. Rivers so mildly kind, and so delighted, + with the bland courtesy that seemed fully conscious of the favour that + Flora had conferred on his son, and thankful to the Mays for accepting + him. + </p> + <p> + Margaret answered with more expression of gratification than would have + been sincere in Ethel; but it was a relief when Flora and Meta came in + together, as pretty a contrast as could be seen; the little dark-eyed + fairy, all radiant with joy, clinging to the slender waist of Flora, whose + quiet grace and maidenly dignity were never more conspicuous than as, with + a soft red mantling in her fair cheek, her eyes cast down, but with a + simple, unaffected warmth of confidence and gratitude, she came forward to + receive Mr. Rivers’s caressing affectionate greeting. + </p> + <p> + Stiffness was over when she came in, and Dr. May, who presently made his + appearance, soon was much more at his ease than could have been hoped, + after his previous declarations that he should never be able to be + moderately civil about it to Mr. Rivers. People of ready sympathy, such as + Dr. May and Margaret, have a great deal of difficulty with their sincerity + spared them, by being carried along with the feelings of others. Ethel + could not feel the same, and was bent on avoiding any expression of + opinion; she hoped that Meta’s ecstasies would all be bestowed upon her + future sister-in-law; but Meta was eager for an interview with Ethel + herself, and, as usual, gained her point. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, you are property of my own!” she cried. “May I not take you all + for sisters?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel had not thought of this as a convenience of the connection, and she + let Meta kiss her, and owned that it was very nice. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel,” said Meta, “I see, and I wanted to talk to you. You don’t think + poor George good enough for Flora.” + </p> + <p> + “I never meant to show it,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “You need not mind,” said Meta, smiling. “I was very much surprised + myself, and thought it all a mistake. But I am so very glad, for I know it + will make such a difference to him, poor fellow. I should like to tell you + all about him, for no one else can very well, and you will like him + better, perhaps. You know my grandfather made his own fortune, and you + would think some of our relations very queer. My Aunt Dorothy once told me + all about it—papa was made to marry the partner’s daughter, and I + fancy she could not have been much of a lady. I don’t think he could have + been very happy with her, but she soon died, and left him with this one + son, whom those odd old aunts brought up their own way. By and by, you + know, papa came to be in quite another line of society, but when he + married again, poor George had been so spoiled by these aunts, and was so + big, and old, that my mother did not know what to make of him.” + </p> + <p> + “A great lubberly boy,” Ethel said, rather repenting the next moment. + </p> + <p> + “He is thirteen years older than I am,” said Meta, “and you see it has + been hard on him altogether; he had not the education that papa would have + given him if he had been born later: and he can’t remember his mother, and + has always been at a loss when with clever people. I never understood it + till within the last two or three years, nor knew how trying it must be to + see such a little chit as me made so much of—almost thrusting him + aside. But you cannot think what a warm-hearted good fellow he is—he + has never been otherwise than so very kind to me, and he was so very fond + of his old aunt. Hitherto, he has had such disadvantages, and no real, + sensible woman has taken him in hand; he does not care for papa’s tastes, + and I am so much younger, that I never could get on with him at all, till + this time; but I do know that he has a real good temper, and all sorts of + good qualities, and that he only needs to be led right, to go right. Oh! + Flora may make anything of him, and we are so thankful to her for having + found it out!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for telling me,” said Ethel. “It is much more satisfactory to + have no shamming.” + </p> + <p> + Meta laughed, for Ethel’s sham was not too successful; she continued, + “Dear Dr. May, I thought he would think his beautiful Flora not exactly + matched—but tell him, Ethel, for if he once is sorry for poor + George, he will like him. And it will really be the making of George, to + be thrown with him and your brothers. Oh! we are so glad! But I won’t + tease you to be so.” + </p> + <p> + “I can like it better now,” said Ethel. “You know Norman thinks very + highly of your brother, and declares that it will all come out by and by.” + </p> + <p> + Meta clapped her hands, and said that she should tell her father, and + Ethel parted with her, liking her, at least, better than ever. There was a + comical scene between her and the doctor, trying to define what relations + they should become to each other, which Ethel thought did a good deal to + mollify her father. + </p> + <p> + The history of George’s life did more; he took to pitying him, and pity + was, indeed, akin to love in the good doctor’s mind. In fact, George was a + man who could be liked, when once regarded as a belonging—a + necessity, not a choice; for it was quite true that there was no harm in + him, and a great deal of good nature. His constant kindness, and evident + liking for Margaret, stood him in good stead; he made her a sort of + confidante, bestowing on her his immeasurable appreciation of Flora’s + perfections, and telling her how well he was getting on with “the old + gentleman”—a name under which she failed to recognise her father. + </p> + <p> + As to Tom, he wrote his congratulations to Ethel, that she might make a + wedding present of her Etruscan vases, the Cupids on which must have been + put there by anticipation. Richard heard none of the doubts, and gave + kind, warm congratulations, promising to return home for the wedding; and + Mary and Blanche no sooner heard a whisper about bride’s-maids than all + their opposition faded away, in a manner that quite scandalised Ethel, + while it set Margaret on reminiscences of her having been a six-year-old + bride’s-maid to Flora’s godmother, Mrs. Arnott. + </p> + <p> + As to the gossip in the town, Ethel quite dreaded the sight of every one + without Flora to protect her, and certainly, Flora’s unaffected, quiet + manner was perfection, and kept off all too forward congratulations, while + it gratified those whom she was willing to encourage. + </p> + <p> + There was no reason for waiting, and Mr. Rivers was as impatient as his + son, so an understanding arose that the wedding, should take place near + the end of the Christmas holidays. + </p> + <p> + Flora showed herself sensible and considerate. Always open-handed, her + father was inclined to do everything liberally, and laid no restrictions + on her preparations, but she had too much discretion to be profuse, and + had a real regard for the welfare of the rest. She laughed with Ethel at + the anticipations of the Stoneborough ladies that she must be going to + London, and, at the requests, as a great favour, that they might be + allowed the sight of her trousseau. Her wedding-dress, white silk, with a + white cashmere mantle, was, indeed, ordered from Meta’s London dressmaker; + but, for the rest, she contented herself with an expedition to Whitford, + accompanied by Miss Bracy and her two enchanted pupils, and there laid in + a stock of purchases, unpretending and in good taste, aiming only at what + could be well done, and not attempting the decorative wardrobe of a great + lady. Ethel was highly amused when the Misses Anderson came for their + inspection, to see their concealed disappointment at finding no under + garments trimmed with Brussels lace, nor pocket-handkerchiefs all + open-work, except a centre of the size of a crown-piece, and the only + thing remarkable was Margaret’s beautiful marking in embroidery. There was + some compensation in the costly wedding presents—Flora had reaped a + whole harvest from friends of her own, grateful patients of her father, + and the whole Rivers and Langdale connection; but, in spite of the + brilliant uselessness of most of these, the young ladies considered + themselves ill-used, thought Dr. May never would have been shabby, and + were of opinion that when Miss Ward had married her father’s surgical + pupil, her outfit had been a far more edifying spectacle. + </p> + <p> + The same moderation influenced Flora’s other arrangements. Dr. May was + resigned to whatever might be thought most proper, stipulating only that + he should not have to make a speech; but Flora felt that, in their house, + a grand breakfast would be an unsuccessful and melancholy affair. If the + bride had been any one else, she could have enjoyed making all go off + well, but, under present circumstances, it would be great pain to her + father and Margaret, a misery to Ethel, and something she dared not think + of to the guests. She had no difficulty in having it dispensed with. + George was glad to avoid “a great nuisance.” Mr. Rivers feared the + fatigue, and, with his daughter, admired Flora for her amiability, and, as + to the home party, no words could express their gratitude to her for + letting them off. Mary and Blanche did, indeed, look rather blank, but + Blanche was consoled, by settling with Hector the splendours in store for + Alan and Margaret, and Mary cared the less, as there would be no Harry to + enjoy the fun. + </p> + <p> + The bride-maiden’s glory was theirs by right, though Ethel was an + unsatisfactory chief for such as desired splendour. She protested against + anything incongruous with January, or that could not be useful afterwards, + and Meta took her part, laughing at the cruel stroke they were preparing + for Bellairs. Ethel begged for dark silks and straw bonnets, and Flora + said that she had expected to hear of brown stuff and gray duffle, but + owned that they had better omit the ordinary muslin garb in the heart of + winter. The baby bride’s-maid was, at last, the chief consideration. + Margaret suggested how pretty she and Blanche would look in sky-blue + merino, trimmed with swan’s-down. Meta was charmed with the idea, and + though Ethel stuck out her shoulder-blades and poked out her head, and + said she should look like the ugly duckling, she was clamorously reminded + that the ugly duckling ended by being a swan, and promised that she should + be allowed a bonnet of a reasonable size, trimmed with white, for Mr. + Rivers’s good taste could endure, as little as Dr. May’s sense of + propriety, the sight of a daughter without shade to her face, Ethel, + finally, gave in, on being put in mind that her papa had a penchant for + swan’s-down, and on Margaret’s promising to wear a dress of the same as + theirs. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was pleased and satisfied by Flora’s dislike of parade, and + attention to the feelings of all. Passing over the one great fact, the two + sisters were more of one mind than usual, probably because all latent + jealousy of Ethel had ceased in Flora’s mind. Hitherto, she had preferred + the being the only practically useful person in the family, and had + encouraged the idea of Ethel’s gaucherie but now she desired to render her + sister able to take her place, and did all in her power to put her in good + heart. + </p> + <p> + For Etheldred was terrified at the prospect of becoming responsible + housekeeper. Margaret could only serve as an occasional reference. Her + morning powers became too uncertain to be depended on for any regular, + necessary duty, and it would have oppressed her so much to order the + dinners, which she never saw, that, though she offered to resume the + office, Flora would not hear of Ethel’s consenting. If it were her proper + business, Ethel supposed she could do it, but another hour of her leisure + was gone, and what would become of them all, with her, a proverb for + heedlessness, and ignorance of ordinary details. She did not know that + these were more proverbial than actual, and, having a bad name, she + believed in it herself. However, Flora made it her business to persuade + her that her powers were as good for household matters, as for books, or + Cocksmoor; instructed her in her own methodical plans, and made her keep + house for a fortnight, with so much success that she began to be hopeful. + </p> + <p> + In the attendance on Margaret, the other great charge, old nurse was the + security; and Ethel, who had felt her self much less unhandy than before, + was, to succeed to the abode, in her room—Blanche being promoted + from the nursery to the old attic. “And,” said Flora consolingly, “if dear + Margaret ever should be ill, you may reckon on me.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Flora May made her last appearance at the Ladies’ Committee to hear + the reply from the principal of the college. It was a civil letter, but + declined taking any steps in the matter without more certain intelligence + of the wishes of the incumbent of the parish or of the holders of the land + in question. + </p> + <p> + The ladies abused all colleges—as prejudiced old Bodies, and feared + that it would be impossible to ask Mrs. Perkinson’s niece to take the + school while there was neither room nor lodging. So Miss Rich recorded the + correspondence, and the vote of censure, by which it was to be hoped the + Ladies’ Committee of Market Stoneborough inflicted a severe blow on the + principal and fellows of M—— College. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Ethel,” said Flora. “I shall meet Sir Henry Walkinghame in + London, and will talk to him. We shall yet astonish the muses. If we can + get the land without them, we shall be able to manage it our own way, + without obligations.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget the money!” + </p> + <p> + “We will keep them from dissipating it—or that might be no harm! A + hundred pounds will be easily found, and we should then have it in our own + hands. Besides, you know, I don’t mean to give up. I shall write a polite + note to Mrs. Ledwich, begging to subscribe on my own account, and to + retain my seat! and you will see what we shall do.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to come down with the external authority,” said Ethel, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “True! and though my driving in with a pair of horses may make little + difference to you, Ethel, depend upon it, Mrs. Ledwich will be the more + amenable. Whenever I want to be particularly impressive, I shall bring in + that smelling-bottle, with the diamond stopper that won’t come out, and + you will find that carries all before it.” + </p> + <p> + “A talisman!” said Ethel, laughing. “But I had rather they yielded to a + sense of right!” + </p> + <p> + “So had I,” said Flora. “Perhaps you will rule them that way?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I!” cried Ethel, terrified. + </p> + <p> + “Then you must come to me, and secondary motives. Seriously—I do + mean that George should do something for Stoneborough; and, in a position + of influence, I hope to be able to be useful to my poor old town. Perhaps + we shall have the minster restored.” + </p> + <p> + Flora did wish it. She did love Stoneborough, and was sincerely interested + for Cocksmoor. She thought she worked earnestly for them, and that her + situation would be turned to their profit; but there was something for + which she worked more earnestly. Had Flora never heard of the two masters + whom we cannot serve at the same time? + </p> + <p> + Richard came home for “a parson’s week,” so as to include the wedding. He + looked very fresh and youthful; but his manner, though still gentle and + retiring, had lost all that shrinking diffidence, and had, now, a very + suitable grave composure. Everybody was delighted to have him; and Ethel, + more than any one, except Margaret. What floods of Cocksmoor histories + were poured upon him; and what comparing of notes about his present + school-children! He could not enter into the refinements of her dread of + the Ladies’ Committee, and thought she might be thankful if the school + were built by any proper means; for, if Cherry Elwood were retained, and + the ladies prevented from doing harm, he did not understand why Ethel + should wish to reject all assistance that did not come in a manner she + admired. He never would comprehend—so Ethel gave it up—feared + she was again jealous and self-sufficient, and contented herself with the + joy that his presence produced at Cocksmoor, where the children smiled, + blushed, and tittered, with ecstasy, whenever he even looked at one of + them. + </p> + <p> + Richard was not allowed to have a Sunday of rest. His father apologised + for having made an engagement for him—as Mr. Ramsden was unwell, and + the school clergy were all absent, so that he could do no otherwise than + assist in the service. Richard coloured, and said that he had brought no + sermon; and he was, in fact, deprived of much of his sister’s company, for + composition was not easy to him, and the quantity of time he spent on it, + quite alarmed Norman and Ethel, who both felt rather nervous on the Sunday + morning, but agreed that preaching was not everything. + </p> + <p> + Ethel could not see well as far as the reading-desk, but she saw her + father glance up, take off his spectacles, wipe them, and put them away; + and she could not be displeased, though she looked reproof at Blanche’s + breathless whisper, “Oh, he looks so nice!” Those white folds did truly + suit well with the meek, serious expression of the young deacon’s fair + face, and made him, as his sisters afterwards said, like one of the + solemnly peaceful angel-carvings of the earlier ages. + </p> + <p> + His voice was sweet and clear, and his reading full of quiet simplicity + and devotion, such as was not often heard by that congregation, who were + too much used either to carelessness or to pomposity. The sermon made his + brother and sister ashamed of their fears. It was an exposition of the + Gospel for the day, practical and earnest, going deep, and rising high, + with a clearness and soberness, yet with a beauty and elevation, such as + Norman and Ethel had certainly not expected—or, rather, they forgot + all their own expectations and Richard himself, and only recollected their + own hearts and the great future before them. + </p> + <p> + Even Blanche and Aubrey told Margaret a great deal about it, and declared + that, if Richard preached every Sunday, they should like going to church + much better. + </p> + <p> + When Dr. May came in, some time after, he was looking much pleased. “So, + Mr. Ritchie,” he said, “you have made quite a sensation—every one + shaking me by the hand, and thanking me for my son’s sermon. You will be a + popular preacher at last!” + </p> + <p> + Richard blushed distressfully, and quoted the saying, that it would be the + true comfort to hear that people went home, thinking of themselves rather + than of the sermon. This put an end to the subject; but the doctor went + over it again, most thoroughly, with his other children, who were greatly + delighted. + </p> + <p> + Flora’s last home Sunday! She was pale and serious, evidently feeling + much, though seeking no tete-a-tetes; and chiefly engrossed with waiting + on Margaret, or fondling little Gertrude. No one saw the inside of her + mind—probably, she did not herself. On the outside was a very + suitable pensiveness, and affection for all that she was leaving. The only + one in the family to whom she talked much was Norman, who continued to see + many perfections in George, and contrived, by the force of his belief, to + impress the same on the others, and to make them think his great talent + for silence such a proof of his discretion, that they were not staggered, + even by his shy blundering exclamation that his wedding would be a great + nuisance—a phrase which, as Dr. May observed, was, to him, what + Est-il-possible was to his namesake of Denmark. + </p> + <p> + Nobody wished for any misgivings, so Richard was never told of any, though + there was a careful watch kept to see what were his first impressions. + None transpired, except something about good nature, but it was shrewdly + believed that Richard and George, being much alike in shy unwillingness to + speak, had been highly satisfied with the little trouble they had caused + to each other, and so had come to a tacit esteem. + </p> + <p> + There was very little bustle of preparation. Excepting the packing, + everything went on much as usual, till the Thursday morning, and then the + children were up early, refreshing the Christmas hollies, and working up + their excitement, only to have it damped by the suppressed agitation of + their elders at the breakfast-table. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May did not seem to know what he was about; and Flora looked paler and + paler. She went away before the meal was over, and when Ethel went to the + bedroom, shortly after, she found that she had fairly broken down, and was + kneeling beside Margaret’s sofa, resting her head on her sister’s bosom, + and sobbing—as Ethel had never seen her weep, except on that + dreadful night, after their mother’s death. + </p> + <p> + In a person ordinarily of such self-command as Flora, weeping was a + terrible thing, and Margaret was much distressed and alarmed; but the + worst had passed before Ethel came up, and Flora was able to speak. “Oh! + Margaret! I cannot leave you! Oh! how happy we have been—” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to be happier, we trust, dearest,” said Margaret fondly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what have I done? It is not worth it!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel thought she caught those words, but no more. Mary’s step was heard, + and Flora was on her feet, instantly, composing herself rapidly. She shed + no more tears, but her eyelids were very heavy, and her face softened, in + a manner that, though she was less pretty than usual, was very becoming + under her bridal veil. She recovered calmness and even cheerfulness, while + reversing the usual order of things, and dressing her bride’s-maids, who + would never have turned out fit to be seen, but for the exertions of + herself, Margaret, and Miss Bracy. Ethel’s long Scotch bones and Mary’s + round, dumpy shapelessness were, in their different ways, equally hard to + overcome; and the one was swelled out with a fabulous number of + petticoats, and the other pinched in, till she gasped and screamed for + mercy, while Blanche and Gertrude danced about, beautiful to behold, under + their shady hats; and presently, with a light tap at the door, Meta Rivers + stepped in, looking so pretty, that all felt that to try to attain to such + an appearance was vain. + </p> + <p> + Timid in her affection, she hardly dared to do more than kiss them, and + whisper her pretty caressing words to each. There was no more time—Dr. + Hoxton’s carriage was come to take up the bride. + </p> + <p> + Ethel did as she was told, without much volition of her own; and she + quitted the carriage, and was drawn into her place by Norman, trusting + that Meta would not let her do wrong, and relieved that just in front of + her were the little ones, over whose heads she could see her father, with + Flora’s veiled bending figure. + </p> + <p> + That pause while the procession was getting into order, the slow movement + up the centre aisle, the week-day atmosphere of the church, brought back + to her thoughts a very different time, and one of those strange echoings + on the mind repeated in her ears the words, “For man walketh in a vain + shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain—” + </p> + <p> + There was a little pause—George did not seem to be forthcoming, and + Meta turned round, rather uneasily, and whispered something about his + having been so nervous. However, there he was, looking exceedingly red, + and very sheepish, and disposed to fall back on his best man, Norman, + whose countenance was at the brightest—and almost handsome. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Hoxton performed the ceremony, “assisted by” Richard. It had been + Flora’s choice; and his loud sonorous voice was thought very impressive. + Blanche stood the nearest, and looked happy and important, with Flora’s + glove. Gertrude held Mary’s hand, and gazed straight up into the fretted + roof, as if that were to her the chief marvel. Ethel stood and knelt, but + did not seem, to herself, to have the power of thinking or feeling. She + saw and heard—that was all; she could not realise. + </p> + <p> + They drew her forward, when it was over, to sign her name, as witness. She + took up the pen, looked at the Flora May, written for the last time, and + found her hand so trembling, that she said, half smiling, that she could + not write. Mary was only too well pleased to supply the deficiency. Dr. + May looked at her anxiously, and asked whether she felt overcome. + </p> + <p> + “No, papa. I did not know my hand was shaky.” + </p> + <p> + He took it into his, and pressed it. Ethel knew, then, how much had been + undeveloped in her own mind, catching it, as it were, from his touch and + look. The thought of his past joy—the sad fading of hope for + Margaret—the fear and doubt for their present bride—above all, + the sense that the fashion of this world passeth away; and that it is not + the outward scene, but our bearing in it, that is to last for ever. + </p> + <p> + The bells struck up, each peal ending with a crash that gave Ethel some + vague idea of fatality; and they all came back to the house, where + Margaret was ready, in the drawing-room, to receive them, looking very + pretty, in her soft blue dress, which especially became her fair + complexion and light brown hair. Ethel did not quite like the pink colour + on her cheeks, and feared that she had been shaken by Flora’s agitation in + the morning; but she was very calm and bright, in the affectionate + greeting with which she held out her hands to the bride and bridegroom, as + they came in. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rivers and Meta were the only guests, and, while Meta was seized by + the children, Margaret lay talking to Mr. Rivers, George standing upright + and silent behind her sofa, like a sentinel. Flora was gone to change her + dress, not giving way, but nervous and hurried, as she reiterated parting + directions about household comforts to Ethel, who stood by the + toilette-table, sticking a pin into the pincushion and drawing it out + again, as if solely intent on making it always fit into the same hole, + while Mary dressed Flora, packed, flew about, and was useful. + </p> + <p> + As they came downstairs, Ethel found that Flora was trembling from head to + foot, and leaning on her; Dr. May stood at the foot of the stairs, and + folded his daughter in a long embrace; Flora gave herself up to it as if + she would never bear to leave it. Did a flash come over her then, what the + father was, whom she had held cheaply? what was the worth of that for + which she had exchanged such a home? She spoke not a word, she only clung + tightly—if her heart failed her—it was too late. “Bless you! + my child!” he said at last. “Only be what your mother was!” + </p> + <p> + A coming tread warned them to part. There was a tray of luncheon for the + two who were about to depart, and the great snow-white cake was waiting + for Flora to cut it. She smiled, accomplished that feat steadily, and + Norman continuing the operation, Aubrey guided Gertrude in handing round + the slices. George did full justice thereto, as well as to the more solid + viands. Flora could taste nothing, but she contrived to smile and say it + was too early. She was in haste to have it over now, and, as soon as + George had finished, she rose up, still composed and resolved, the last + kisses were given—Gertrude was lifted up to her, after she was in + the carriage for the very last, when George proposed to run away with her + also, whereupon Daisy kicked and screamed, and was taken back in haste. + The door was shut, and they drove off, bound for the Continent, and then + Mary, as if the contingency of losing Flora had only for the first time + occurred to her as the consequence of the wedding, broke out into a + piteous fit of sobbing—rather too unrestrained, considering her + fourteen years. + </p> + <p> + Poor Mary, she was a very child still! They pulled her into the study, out + of the way of Mr. Rivers, and Meta had no sooner said how Flora would soon + come home and live at the Grange, and talked of the grand school-feast to + which she was at once going to take her friends, than the round rosy face + drew out of its melancholy puckers into smiles, as Mary began to tell the + delight caused by the invitations which she had conveyed. That was to be a + feast indeed—all the Abbotstoke children—all Flora’s class at + Stoneborough, and as many Cocksmoor scholars as could walk so far, were to + dine on Christmas fare, at one o’clock, at the Grange, and Meta was in + haste to be at home to superintend the feast. + </p> + <p> + Mary, Blanche, and Aubrey, went with her, under the keeping of Miss Bracy, + the boys were to follow. She had hoped for Ethel, but on looking at her, + ceased her coaxing importunity. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” she said kindly; “even schoolchildren will not be so good for you + as peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Ethel, “I should like to be quiet till the evening, if + you will let me off. It is very kind in you.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to know how to pity you,” said Meta, “I who have gained what you + have lost.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to think too,” said Ethel. “It is the beginning to me of a new + life, and I have not been able to look at it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides, Margaret will want you. Poor Margaret—has it been very + trying to her?” + </p> + <p> + “I fear so, but I shall keep out of her way, and leave her to a quiet + afternoon with Richard. It will be the greatest treat to those two to be + together.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I will carry off the children, and leave the house quiet.” + </p> + <p> + And quiet it was in another hour—Gertrude walking with the nurses, + Dr. May gone to his patients, and all the rest at Abbotstoke, except + Richard and Margaret downstairs; and Ethel, who, while arranging her + properties in her new room, had full leisure to lay out before herself the + duties that had devolved on her and to grapple with them. She recalled the + many counsels that she had received from Flora, and they sounded so + bewildering that she wished it had been Conic sections, and then she + looked at a Hebrew grammar that Norman had given her, and gave a sigh as + she slipped it into the shelf of the seldom used. She looked about the + room, cleared out the last piece of brown paper, and burned the last torn + envelope, that no relic of packing and change might distress Margaret’s + eyes for order; then feeling at once desolate and intrusive, she sat down + in Flora’s fireside chair, opened her desk, and took out her last + time-table. She looked at it for some minutes, laid it aside, and rising, + knelt down. Again seating herself, she resumed her paper, took a blank + one, ruled it, and wrote her rules for each hour of each day in the week. + That first hour after breakfast, when hitherto she had been free, was one + sacrifice; it must go now, to ordering dinner, seeing after stores, + watching over the children’s clothes, and the other nondescripts, which, + happily for her, Flora had already reduced to method. The other loss was + the spare time between the walk and tea; she must not spend that in her + own room now, or there would be no one to sit with Margaret, or keep the + little ones from being troublesome to her. Ethel had often had to give up + this space before, when Flora went out in the evening, and she had seldom + felt otherwise than annoyed. Give it up for good! that was the cure for + temper, but it had been valuable as something of her own. She would have + been thankful could she have hoped to keep regularly to her own rules, but + that she knew was utterly improbable—boys, holidays, callers, + engagements, Dr. May, would all conspire to turn half her days upside + down, and Cocksmoor itself must often depend not only on the weather, but + on home doings. Two or three notes she wrote at the foot of her paper. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘N. B. These are a standard—not a bed of Procrustes. + MUSTS—To be first consulted.—Mays—last. Ethel May’s + last of all. + If I cannot do everything—omit the self-chosen. + MEM— Neither hurry when it depends on myself, + nor fidget when it depends on others. + Keep a book going to pacify myself.’ +</pre> + <p> + Her rules drawn up, Ethel knelt once more. Then she drew a long sigh, and + wondered where Flora was; and next, as she was fairly fagged, mind and + body, she threw herself back in the armchair, took up a railway novel that + Hector had brought home, and which they had hidden from the children, and + repaired herself with the luxury of an idle reading. + </p> + <p> + Margaret and Richard likewise spent a peaceful, though pensive afternoon. + Margaret had portions of letters from Alan to read to him, and a + consultation to hold. The hope of her full recovery had so melted away, + that she had, in every letter, striven to prepare Mr. Ernescliffe for the + disappointment, and each that she received in return was so sanguine and + affectionate, that the very fondness was as much grief as joy. She could + not believe that he took in the true state of the case, or was prepared to + perceive that she could never be his wife, and she wanted Richard to write + one of his clear, dispassionate statements, such as carried full + conviction, and to help to put a final end to the engagement. + </p> + <p> + “But why,” said Richard—“why should you wish to distress him?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I cannot bear that he should be deceived, and should feed on + false hopes. Do you think it right, Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “I will write to him, if you like,” said Richard; “but I think he must + pretty well know the truth from all the letters to Harry and to himself.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be so much better for him to settle his mind at once,” said + Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he would not think so—” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, while Margaret saw that her brother was thinking. At + last he said, “Margaret, will you pardon me? I do think that this is a + little restlessness. The truth has not been kept from him, and I do not + see that we are called to force it on him. He is sensible and reasonable, + and will know how to judge when he comes home.” + </p> + <p> + “It was to try to save him the pang,” murmured Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but it will be worse far away than near. I do not mean that we + should conceal the fact, but you have no right to give him up before he + comes home. The whole engagement was for the time of his voyage.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you think I ought not to break it off before his return?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be pain spared—unless it should be worse by and by.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not suppose we ought to look to by and by,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “Do the clearly right thing for the present, I mean,” he said, “without + anxiety for the rest. How do we—any of us—know what may be the + case in another year?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not flatter me with hopes,” said Margaret, sadly smiling; “I have had + too many of them.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Richard; “I do not think you will ever get well. But so much + may happen—” + </p> + <p> + “I had rather have my mind made up once for all, and resign myself,” said + Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “His will is sometimes that we should be uncertain,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “And that is the most trying,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Just so—” and he paused tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “I feel how much has been right,” said Margaret. “This wedding has brought + my real character before me. I feel what I should have been. You have no + notion how excited and elated I can get about a little bit of dress out of + the common way for myself or others,” said she, smiling; “and then all the + external show and things belonging to station—I naturally care much + more for them than even Flora does. Ethel would bear all those things as + if they did not exist—I could not.” + </p> + <p> + “They would be a temptation?” + </p> + <p> + “They would once have been. Yes, they would now,” said Margaret. “And + government, and management, and influence—you would not guess what + dreams I used to waste on them, and now here am I set aside from it all, + good for nothing but for all you dear ones to be kind to.” + </p> + <p> + “They would not say so,” said Richard kindly. + </p> + <p> + “Not say it, but I feel it. Papa and Ethel are all the world to each other—Richard, + I may say it to you. There has been only one thing more hard to bear than + that—don’t suppose there was a moment’s neglect or disregard; but + when first I understood that Ethel could be more to him than I, then I + could not always feel rightly. It was the punishment for always wanting to + be first.” + </p> + <p> + “My father would be grieved that you had the notion. You should not keep + it.” + </p> + <p> + “He does not know it is so,” said Margaret; “I am his first care, I fear, + his second grief; but it is not in the nature of things that Ethel should + not be more his comfort and companion. Oh! I am glad it was not she who + married! What shall we do when she goes?” + </p> + <p> + This came from Margaret’s heart, so as to show that if there had once been + a jealous pang of mortification, it had been healed by overflowing, + unselfish affection and humility. + </p> + <p> + They went off to praise Ethel, and thence to praise Norman, and the elder + brother and sister, who might have had some jealousy of the superiority of + their juniors, spent a good happy hour in dwelling on the shining + qualities they loved so heartily. + </p> + <p> + And Richard was drawn into talking of his own deeper thoughts, and + Margaret had again the comfort of clerical counsel—and now from her + own most dear brother! So they sat till darkness closed in, when Ethel + came down, bringing Gertrude and her great favour, very full of chatter, + only not quite sure whether she had been bride, bride’s-maid, or + bridegroom. + </p> + <p> + The schoolroom set, with Tom and Aubrey, came home soon after, and tongues + went fast with stories of roast-beef, plum-pudding, and blind-man’s-buff. + How the dear Meta had sent a cart to Cocksmoor to bring Cherry herself, + and how many slices everybody had eaten, and how the bride’s health had + been drunk by the children in real wine, and how they had all played, + Norman and all, and how Hector had made Blanche bold enough to extract a + raisin from the flaming snap-dragon. It was not half told when Dr. May + came home, and Ethel went up to dress for her dinner at Abbotstoke, Mary + following to help her and continue her narration, which bade fair to + entertain Margaret the whole evening. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May, Richard, and Ethel had a comfortable dark drive to the Grange, + and, on arriving, found Hector deep in ‘Wild Sports of the West’, while + Norman and Meta were sitting over the fire talking, and Mr. Rivers was + resting in his library. + </p> + <p> + And when Ethel and Meta spent the time before the gentlemen came in from + the dining-room, in a happy tete-a-tete, Ethel learned that the fire-light + dialogue had been the pleasantest part of the whole day, and that Meta had + had confided to her the existence of Decius Mus—a secret which Ethel + had hitherto considered as her own peculiar property, but she supposed it + was a pledge of the sisterhood, which Meta professed with all the house of + May. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The rest all accepted the kind invitation, + And much bustle it caused in the plumed creation; + Such ruffling of feathers, such pruning of coats, + Such chirping, such whistling, such clearing of throats, + Such polishing bills, and such oiling of pinions, + Had never been known in the biped dominions. + Peacock at Home. +</pre> + <p> + Etheldred was thankful for that confidence to Meta Rivers, for without it, + she would hardly have succeeded in spurring Norman up to give the + finishing touches to Decius, and to send him in. If she talked of the poem + as the devotion of Decius, he was willing enough, and worked with spirit, + for he liked the ideas, and enjoyed the expressing them, and trying to + bring his lines to his notion of perfection, but if she called it the + “Newdigate,” or the “Prize Poem,” and declared herself sure it would be + successful, he yawned, slackened, leaned back in his chair, and began to + read other people’s poetry, which Ethel was disrespectful enough not to + think nearly as good as his own. + </p> + <p> + It was completed at last, and Ethel stitched it up with a narrow red and + white ribbon—the Balliol colours; and set Meta at him till a promise + was extorted that he would send it in. + </p> + <p> + And, in due time, Ethel received the following note: + </p> + <p> + “My Dear Ethel,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“My peacock bubble has flown over the house. +Tell them all about it. + +Your affectionate, + N. W. M.” + </pre> + <p> + They were too much accustomed to Norman’s successes to be extraordinarily + excited; Ethel would have been much mortified if the prize had been + awarded to any one else, but, as it was, it came rather as a matter of + course. The doctor was greatly pleased, and said he should drive round by + Abbotstoke to tell the news there, and then laughed beyond measure to hear + that Meta had been in the plot, saying he should accuse the little + humming-bird of being a magpie, stealing secrets. + </p> + <p> + By this time the bride and bridegroom were writing that they thought of + soon returning; they had spent the early spring at Paris, had wandered + about in the south of France, and now were at Paris again. Flora’s letters + were long, descriptive, and affectionate, and she was eager to be kept + fully informed of everything at home. As soon as she heard of Norman’s + success, she wrote a whole budget of letters, declaring that she and + George would hear of no refusal; they were going to spend a fortnight at + Oxford for the Commemoration, and must have Meta and Ethel with them to + hear Norman’s poem in the theatre. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May, who already had expressed a hankering to run up for the day and + take Ethel with him, was perfectly delighted at the proposal, and so was + Mr. Rivers, but the young ladies made many demurs. Ethel wanted Mary to go + in her stead, and had to be told that this would not be by any means the + same to the other parties—she could not bear to leave Margaret; it + was a long time since there had been letters from the Alcestis, and she + did not like to miss being at home when they should come; and Meta, on her + side, was so unwilling to leave her father that, at last, Dr. May scolded + them both for a pair of conceited, self-important damsels, who thought + nothing could go on without them; and next, compared them to young birds, + obliged to be shoved by force into flying. + </p> + <p> + Meta consented first, on condition that Ethel would; and Ethel found that + her whole house would be greatly disappointed if she refused, so she + proceeded to be grateful, and then discovered how extremely delightful the + plan was. Oxford, of which she had heard so much, and which she had always + wished to see! And Norman’s glory—and Meta’s company—nay, the + very holiday, and going from home, were charms enough for a girl of + eighteen, who had never been beyond Whitford in her life. Besides, to + crown all, papa promised that, if his patients would behave well, and not + want him too much, he would come up for the one great day. + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Mrs. George Rivers came to Abbotstoke to collect their party. They + arrived by a railroad, whose station was nearer to Abbotstoke than to + Stoneborough, therefore, instead of their visiting the High Street by the + way, Dr. May, with Ethel and Mary, were invited to dine at the Grange, the + first evening—a proposal, at least, as new and exciting to Mary as + was the journey to Oxford to her sister. + </p> + <p> + The two girls went early, as the travellers had intended to arrive before + luncheon, and, though Ethel said few words, but let Mary rattle on with a + stream of conjectures and questions, her heart was full of longings for + her sister, as well as of strange doubts and fears, as to the change that + her new life might have made in her. + </p> + <p> + “There! there!” cried Mary. “Yes! it is Flora! Only she has her hair done + in a funny way!” + </p> + <p> + Flora and Meta were both standing on the steps before the conservatory, + and Mary made but one bound before she was hugging Flora. Ethel kissed her + without so much violence, and then saw that Flora was looking very well + and bright, more decidedly pretty and elegant than ever, and with + certainly no diminution of affection; it was warmer, though rather more + patronising. + </p> + <p> + “How natural you look!” was her first exclamation, as she held Mary’s + hand, and drew Ethel’s arm into hers. “And how is Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well-but the heat makes her languid—” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any letter yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No—” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see any cause for alarm—letters are so often detained, + but, of course, she will be anxious. Has she had pain in the back again?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes, but summer always does her good—” + </p> + <p> + “I shall see her to-morrow—and the Daisy. How do you all get on? + Have you broken down yet, Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! we do go on,” said Ethel, smiling; “the worst thing I have done was + expecting James to dress the salads with lamp-oil.” + </p> + <p> + “A Greenland salad! But don’t talk of oil—I have the taste still in + my mouth after the Pyrennean cookery! Oh! Ethel, you would have been wild + with delight in those places!” + </p> + <p> + “Snowy mountains! Are they not like a fairy-dream to you now? You must + have felt at home, as a Scotchwoman’s daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of the peaks in the sunrise! Oh! I wanted you in the pass of + Roncevalles, to hear the echo of Roland’s horn. And we saw the cleft made + by Roland’s sword in the rocks.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how delightful—and Spain too!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, the Isle of Pheasants, where all the conferences took place.” + </p> + <p> + “Where Louis XIV. met his bride, and Francois I. sealed his treason with + his empty flourish—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don’t let us fight about Francois I. now; I want to know how Tom + likes Eton.” + </p> + <p> + “He gets on famously. I am so glad he is in the same house with Hector.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ramsden—how is he?” + </p> + <p> + “No better; he has not done any duty for weeks. Tomkins and his set want + to sell the next presentation, but papa hopes to stave that off, for there + is a better set than usual in the Town Council this year.” + </p> + <p> + “Cocksmoor? And how are our friends the muses? I found a note from the + secretary telling me that I am elected again. How have they behaved?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well,” said Ethel. “Mrs. Ledwich has been away, so we have had few + meetings, and have been pretty quiet, except for an uproar about the + mistress beating that Franklin’s girl—and what do you think I did, + Flora? I made bold to say the woman should show her to papa, to see if she + had done her any harm, and he found that it was all a fabrication from one + end to the other. So it ended in the poor girl being expelled, and Mary + and I have her twice a week, to see if there is any grace in her.” + </p> + <p> + “To reward her!” said Flora. “That is always your way—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, one cannot give the poor thing quite up,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “You will manage the ladies at last!” cried Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Not while Mrs. Ledwich is there!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll cope with her! But, come, I want you in my room—” + </p> + <p> + “May not I come?” said Meta. “I must see when—” + </p> + <p> + Flora held up her hand, and, while signing invitation, gave an arch look + to Meta to be silent. Ethel here bethought herself of inquiring after Mr. + Rivers, and then for George. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rivers was pretty well—George, quite well, and somewhere in the + garden; and Meta said that he had such a beard that they would hardly know + him; while Flora added that he was delighted with the Oxford scheme. + Flora’s rooms had been, already, often shown to her sisters, when Mr. + Rivers had been newly furnishing them, with every luxury and ornament that + taste could devise. Her dressing-room, with the large bay window, + commanding a beautiful view of Stoneborough, and filled, but not crowded, + with every sort of choice article, was a perfect exhibition to eyes + unaccustomed to such varieties. + </p> + <p> + Mary could have been still amused by the hour, in studying the devices and + ornaments on the shelves and chiffonieres; and Blanche had romanced about + it to the little ones, till they were erecting it into a mythical palace. + </p> + <p> + And Flora, in her simple, well-chosen dress, looked, and moved, as if she + had been born and bred in the like. + </p> + <p> + There were signs of unpacking about the room-Flora’s dressing-case on the + table, and some dresses lying on the sofa and ottoman. + </p> + <p> + Mary ran up to them eagerly, and exclaimed at the beautiful shot blue and + white silk. + </p> + <p> + “Paris fashions?” said Ethel carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I don’t parade my own dresses here,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Whose are they then? Your commissions, Meta?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” and Meta laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Your French maid’s then?” said Ethel. “I dare say she dresses quite as + well; and the things are too really pretty and simple for an English + maid’s taste.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you like them,” said Flora maliciously. “Now, please to be + good.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are they for then?” said Ethel, beginning to be frightened. + </p> + <p> + “For a young lady, whose brother has got the Newdigate prize, and who is + going to Oxford.” + </p> + <p> + “Me! Those! But I have not got four backs,” as Ethel saw Meta in fits of + laughing, and Flora making affirmative signs. Mary gave a ponderous spring + of ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” said Flora, “you may as well be quiet. Whatever you may like, I am + not going to have the Newdigate prizeman shown as brother to a scarecrow. + I knew what you would come to, without me to take care of you. Look at + yourself in the glass.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I see no harm in myself,” said Ethel, turning towards the + pier-glass, and surveying herself—in a white muslin, made high, a + black silk mantle, and a brown hat. She had felt very respectable when she + set out, but she could not avoid a lurking conviction that, beside Flora + and Meta, it had a scanty, schoolgirl effect. “And,” she continued + quaintly, “besides, I have really got a new gown on purpose—a good + useful silk, that papa chose at Whitford—just the colour of a copper + tea-kettle, where it turns purple.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel! you will kill me!” said Meta, sinking back on the sofa. + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose,” continued Flora, “that you have sent it to Miss Broad’s, + without any directions, and she will trim it with flame-coloured gimp, and + glass buttons; and, unless Margaret catches you, you will find yourself + ready to set the Thames on fire. No, my dear tea-kettle, I take you to + Oxford on my own terms, and you had better submit, without a fuss, and be + thankful it is no worse. George wanted me to buy you a white brocade, with + a perfect flower-garden on it, that you could have examined with a + microscope. I was obliged to let him buy that lace mantle, to make up to + him. Now then, Meta, the scene opens, and discovers—” + </p> + <p> + Meta opened the folding-doors into Flora’s bedroom, and thence came + forward Bellairs and a little brisk Frenchwoman, whom Flora had acquired + at Paris. The former, who was quite used to adorning Miss Ethel against + her will, looked as amused as her mistresses; and, before Ethel knew what + was going on, her muslin was stripped off her back, and that instrument of + torture, a half made body, was being tried upon her. She made one of her + most wonderful grimaces of despair, and stood still. The dresses were not + so bad after all; they were more tasteful than costly, and neither in + material nor ornament were otherwise than suitable to the occasion and the + wearer. It was very kind and thoughtful of Flora—that she could not + but feel—nothing had been forgotten, but when Ethel saw the mantles, + the ribbons, the collars, the bonnet, all glistening with the French air + of freshness and grace, she began to feel doubts and hesitations, whether + she ought to let her sister go to such an expense on her account, and + privately resolved that the accepting thanks should not be spoken till she + should have consulted her father. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, she could only endure, be laughed at by her elders, and + entertained by Mary’s extreme pleasure in her array. Good Mary—it + was more than any comedy to her; she had not one moment’s thought of + herself, till, when Flora dived into her box, produced a pair of + bracelets, and fastened them on her comfortable plump arms, her eyes grew + wide with wonder, and she felt, at least, two stages nearer womanhood. + </p> + <p> + Flora had omitted no one. There was a Paris present for every servant at + home, and a needle-case even for Cherry Elwood, for which Ethel thanked + her with a fervency wanting in her own case. + </p> + <p> + She accomplished consulting her father on her scruples, and he set her + mind at rest. He knew that the outlay was a mere trifle to the Riverses, + and was greatly pleased and touched with the affection that Flora showed; + so he only smiled at Ethel’s doubts, and dwelt with heartfelt delight on + the beautiful print that she had brought him, from Ary Scheffer’s picture + of the Great Consoler. + </p> + <p> + Flora was in her glory. To be able to bestow benefits on those whom she + loved, had been always a favourite vision, and she had the full pleasure + of feeling how much enjoyment she was causing. They had a very pleasant + evening; she gave interesting accounts of their tour, and by her appeals + to her husband, made him talk also. He was much more animated and + agreeable than Ethel had ever seen him, and was actually laughing, and + making Mary laugh heartily with his histories of the inns in the + Pyrennees. Old Mr. Rivers looked as proud and happy as possible, and was + quite young and gay, having evidently forgotten all his maladies, in + paying elaborate attention to his daughter-in-law. + </p> + <p> + Ethel told Margaret, that night, that she was quite satisfied about Flora—she + was glad to own that she had done her injustice, and that Norman was right + in saying there was more in George Rivers than met the eye. + </p> + <p> + The morning spent at home was equally charming. Flora came back, with love + strengthened by absence. She was devoted to Margaret—caressing to + all; she sat in her old places; she fulfilled her former offices; she + gratified Miss Bracy by visiting her in the schoolroom, and talking of + French books; and won golden opinions, by taking Gertrude in her hand, and + walking to Minster Street to call on Mrs. Hoxton, as in old times, and + take her the newest foreign device of working to kill time. + </p> + <p> + So a few days passed merrily away, and the great journey commenced. Ethel + met the Abbotstoke party at the station, and, with a parting injunction to + her father, that he was to give all his patients a sleeping potion, that + they might not miss him, she was carried away from Stoneborough. + </p> + <p> + Meta was in her gayest mood; Ethel full of glee and wonder, for once + beyond Whitford, the whole world was new to her; Flora more quiet, but + greatly enjoying their delight, and George not saying much, but smiling + under his beard, as if well pleased to be so well amused with so little + trouble. + </p> + <p> + He took exceeding care of them, and fed them with everything he could make + them eat at the Swindon Station, asking for impossible things, and wishing + them so often to change for something better, that, if they had been + submissive, they would have had no luncheon at all; and, as it was, Flora + was obliged to whisk into the carriage with her last sandwich in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am the more sorry,” said he, after grumbling at the allotted ten + minutes, “as we shall dine so late. You desired Norman to bring any friend + he liked, did you not, Flora?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and he spoke of bringing our old friend, Charles Cheviot, and Mr. + Ogilvie,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ogilvie!” said Ethel, “the Master of Glenbracken! Oh! I am so glad! I + have wanted so much to see him!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! he is a great hero of yours?” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him?” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “No; but he is a great friend of Norman’s, and a Scottish cousin—Norman + Ogilvie. Norman has his name from the Ogilvies.” + </p> + <p> + “Our grandmother, Mrs. Mackenzie, was a daughter of Lord Glenbracken,” + said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “This man might be called the Master of Glenbracken at home,” said Ethel. + “It is such a pretty title, and there is a beautiful history belonging to + them. There was a Master of Glenbracken who carried James IV.‘s standard + at Flodden, and would not yield, and was killed with it wrapped round his + body, and the Lion was dyed with his blood. Mamma knew some scraps of a + ballad about him. Then they were out with Montrose, and had their castle + burned by the Covenanters, and since that they have been Jacobites, and + one barely escaped being beheaded at Carlisle! I want to hear the rights + of it. Norman is to go, some time or other, to stay at Glenbracken.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Flora, “coming down to times present, this young heir seems + worthy of his race. They are pattern people—have built a church, and + have all their tenantry in excellent order. This is the only son, and very + good and clever—he preferred going to Balliol, that he might work; + but he is a great sportsman, George,” added she; “you will get on with him + very well, about fishing, and grouse shooting, I dare say.” + </p> + <p> + Norman met them at the station, and there was great excitement at seeing + his long nose under his college cap. He looked rather thin and worn, but + brightened at the sight of the party. After the question—whether + there had been any letters from Harry? he asked whether his father were + coming?—and Ethel thought he seemed nervous at the idea of this + addition to his audience. He saw them to their hotel, and, promising them + his two guests, departed. + </p> + <p> + Ethel watched collegiate figures passing in the street, and recollected + the gray buildings, just glimpsed at in her drive—it was dreamy and + confused, and she stood musing, not discovering that it was time to dress, + till Flora and her Frenchwoman came in, and laid violent hands on her. + </p> + <p> + The effect of their manipulations was very successful. Ethel was made to + look well-dressed, and, still more, distinguished. Her height told well, + when her lankiness was overcome, and her hair was disposed so as to set + off her features to advantage. The glow of amusement and pleasure did + still more for her; and Norman, who was in the parlour when the sisters + appeared, quite started with surprise and satisfaction at her aspect. + </p> + <p> + “Well done. Flora!” he said. “Why! I have been telling Ogilvie that one of + my sisters was very plain!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, I hope we have been preparing an agreeable surprise for him,” said + Flora. “Ethel is very much obliged to you. By the bye,” she said, in her + universal amity, “I must ask Harvey Anderson to dinner one of these days?” + Norman started, and his face said “Don’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well; it is as you please. I thought it would please + Stoneborough, and that Edward was a protege of yours. What has he been + doing? Did we not hear he had been distinguishing himself? Dr. Hoxton was + boasting of his two scholars.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask him,” said Norman hurriedly. “At least,” said he, “do not let + anything from me prevent you.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he been doing anything wrong?” reiterated Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of,” was the blunt answer; and, at the same instant, Mr. + Ogilvie arrived. He was a pleasant, high-bred looking gentleman, + brown-complexioned, and dark-eyed, with a brisk and resolute cast of + countenance, that, Ethel thought, might have suited the Norman of + Glenbracken, who died on the ruddy Lion of Scotland, and speaking with the + very same slight degree of Scottish intonation as she remembered in her + mother, making a most home-like sound in her ears. + </p> + <p> + Presently, the rest of their own party came down, and, soon after, Charles + Cheviot appeared, looking as quiet and tame, as he used to be in the + schoolboy days, when Norman would bring him home, and he used to be too + shy to speak a word. + </p> + <p> + However, he had learned the use of his tongue by this time, though it was + a very soft one; and he stood by Ethel, asking many questions about + Stoneborough, while something, apparently very spirited and amusing, was + going on between the others. + </p> + <p> + The dinner went off well—there were few enough for the conversation + to be general. The young men began to strike out sparks of wit against + each other—Flora put in a word or two—Ethel grew so much + interested in the discussion, that her face lighted up, and she joined in + it, as if it had been only between her father and brother—keen, + clear, and droll. After that, she had her full share in the conversation, + and enjoyed it so much that, when she left the dinner-table, she fetched + her writing-case to sketch the colloquy for Margaret and her father. + </p> + <p> + Flora exclaimed at her for never allowing any one to think of rest. Meta + said she should like to do the same, but it was impossible now; she did + not know how she should ever settle down to write a letter. Ethel was soon + interrupted—the gentlemen entered, and Mr. Ogilvie came to the + window, where she was sitting, and began to tell her how much obliged to + her he and his college were, for having insisted on her brother’s sending + in his poem. “Thanks are due, for our being spared an infliction next + week,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen it?” she asked, and she was amused by the quick negative + movement of his head. + </p> + <p> + “I read my friend’s poems? But our lungs are prepared! Will you give me my + cue—it is of no use to ask him when we are to deafen you. One + generally knows the crack passages—something beginning with ‘Oh, + woman!’ but it is well to be in readiness—if you would only forewarn + me of the telling hits?” + </p> + <p> + “If they cannot tell themselves,” said Ethel, smiling, “I don’t think they + deserve the name.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you think what does tell on the undergraduates, collectively, is + not always what ought to tell on them.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. I dare say the same would not be a favourite with them and + with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know which are your favourites. No doubt you have a copy + here—made by yourself;” and he looked towards her paper-case. + </p> + <p> + There was the copy, and she took it out, peering to see whether Norman + were looking. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” he said, as she paused to open the MS., “he told me the + thoughts were more yours than his own.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he? That was not fair. One thought was an old one, long ago talked + over between us; the rest is all his own.” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Ogilvie took the paper, and Ethel saw his countenance show + evident tokens of surprise and feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said presently, “May goes deep—deeper than most men—though + I doubt whether they will applaud this.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like it better if they did not,” said Ethel. “It is rather to be + felt than shouted at.” + </p> + <p> + “And I don’t know how the world would go on if it were felt. Few men would + do much without the hope of fame,” said Norman Ogilvie. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the question what they would do?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “So you call fame a low motive? I see where your brother’s philosophy + comes from.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not call it a low motive—” Her pause was expressive. + </p> + <p> + “Nor allow that the Non omnis moriar of Horace has in it something + divine?” + </p> + <p> + “For a heathen—yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, what would you have the moving spring?” + </p> + <p> + “Duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Would not that end in ‘Mine be a cot, beside the rill’?” said he, with an + intonation of absurd sentiment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and suppose an enemy came, would duty prompt not the Hay with the + joke—or Winkelried on the spears?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, why not—‘It is my duty to take care of Lucy.’” + </p> + <p> + “Then Lucy ought to be broken on her own wheel.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all! It is Lucy’s duty to keep her Colin from running into + danger.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope there are not many Lucies who would think so.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you. Most would rather have Colin killed than disgraced.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure!” then, perceiving a knowing twinkle, as if he thought she had + made an admission, she added, “but what is disgrace?” + </p> + <p> + “Some say it is misfortune,” said Mr. Ogilvie. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not failure in duty?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” + </p> + <p> + “Colin’s first duty is to his king and country. If he fail in that, he is + disgraced, in his own eyes, before Heaven and men. If he does it, there is + a reward, which seems to me a better, more powerful motive for Lucy to set + before him than ‘My dear, I hope you will distinguish yourself,’ when the + fact is, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘England has forty thousand men, + We trust, as good as he.’ +</pre> + <p> + “‘Victory or Westminster Abbey!’ is a tolerable war-cry,” said Mr. + Ogilvie. + </p> + <p> + “Not so good as ‘England expects every man to do his duty.’ That serves + for those who cannot look to Westminster Abbey.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you are an English woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Only by halves. I had rather have been the Master of Glenbracken at + Flodden than King James, or”—for she grew rather ashamed of having + been impelled to utter the personal allusion—“better to have been + the Swinton or the Gordon at Homildon than all the rest put together.” + </p> + <p> + “I always thought Swinton a pig-headed old fellow, and I have little doubt + that my ancestor was a young ruffian,” coolly answered the Master of + Glenbracken. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” was all that Ethel could say in her indignation. + </p> + <p> + “It was the normal state of Scottish gentlemen,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “If I thought you were in earnest, I should say you did not deserve to be + a Scot.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you wish to make me out a fause Scot!” + </p> + <p> + “Ogilvie!” called Norman, “are you fighting Scottish and English battles + with Ethel there? We want you to tell us which will be the best day for + going to Blenheim.” + </p> + <p> + The rest of the evening was spent in arranging the programme of their + lionising, in which it appeared that the Scottish cousin intended to take + his full share. Ethel was not sorry, for he interested her much, while + provoking her. She was obliged to put out her full strength in answering + him, and felt, at the same time, that he was not making any effort in + using the arguments that puzzled her—she was in earnest, while he + was at play; and, though there was something teasing in this, and she knew + it partook of what her brothers called chaffing, it gave her that sense of + power on his side, which is always attractive to women. With the knowledge + that, through Norman, she had of his real character, she understood that + half, at least, of what he said was jest; and the other half was enough in + earnest to make it exciting to argue with him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + While I, thy dearest, sat apart, + And felt thy triumphs were as mine, + And lov’d them more than they were thine. + TENNYSON. +</pre> + <p> + That was a week of weeks; the most memorable week in Ethel’s life, spent + in indefatigable sight-seeing. College Chapels, Bodleian Library, Taylor + Gallery, the Museum, all were thoroughly studied, and, if Flora had not + dragged the party on, in mercy to poor George’s patience, Ethel would + never have got through a day’s work. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Mr. Ogilvie, when annoyed at being hurried in going over Merton + Chapel with her, was heard to whisper that he acted the part of policeman, + by a perpetual “move on”; and as Ethel recollected the portly form and + wooden face of the superintendent at Stoneborough, she was afraid that the + comparison would not soon be forgotten. Norman Ogilvie seemed to consider + himself bound to their train as much as his namesake, or, as on the second + morning, Norman reported his reasoning, it was that a man must walk about + with somebody on Commemoration week, and that it was a comfort to do so + with ladies who wore their bonnets upon their heads, instead of, like most + of those he met, remind him of what Cock Robin said to Jenny Wren in that + matrimonial quarrel, when + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Robin, he grew angry, + Hopped upon a twig— +</pre> + <p> + Flora was extremely delighted, and, in matronly fashion, told her sister + that people were always respected and admired who had the strength of mind + to resist unsuitable customs. Ethel laughed in answer, and said she + thought it would take a great deal more strength of mind to go about with + her whole visage exposed to the universal gaze; and, woman-like, they had + a thorough gossip over the evils of the “backsliding” head-gear. + </p> + <p> + Norman had retreated from it into the window, when Flora returned to the + charge about Harvey Anderson. She had been questioning their old friend + Mr. Everard, and had learned from him that the cause of the hesitation + with which his name had been received was that he had become imbued with + some of the Rationalistic ideas current in some quarters. He seldom met + Norman May without forcing on him debates, which were subjects of great + interest to the hearers, as the two young men were considered as the most + distinguished representatives of their respective causes, among their own + immediate contemporaries. Norman’s powers of argument, his eloquence, + readiness, and clearness, were thought to rank very high, and, in the + opinion of Mr. Everard, had been of great effect in preventing other + youths from being carried away by the specious brilliancy of his rival. + </p> + <p> + Ethel valued this testimony far above the Newdigate prize, and she was + extremely surprised by hearing Flora declare her intention of still asking + Mr. Anderson to dinner, only consulting her brother as to the day. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Flora! ask him! Norman—” + </p> + <p> + Norman had turned away with the simple answer, “any day.” + </p> + <p> + “Norman is wiser than you are, Ethel,” said Flora. “He knows that + Stoneborough would be up in arms at any neglect from us to one of the + Andersons, and, considering the rivalship, it is the more graceful, and + becoming.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think it right,” said Ethel stoutly; “I believe that a line + ought to be drawn, and that we ought not to associate with people who + openly tamper with their faith.” + </p> + <p> + “Never fear,” smiled Flora; “I promise you that there shall be no debates + at my table.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel felt the force of the pronoun, and, as Flora walked out of the room, + she went up to Norman, who had been resting his brow against the window. + </p> + <p> + “It is vain to argue with her,” she said; “but, Norman, do not you think + it is clearly wrong to seek after men who desert and deny—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped short, frightened at his pale look. + </p> + <p> + He spoke in a low clear tone that seemed to thrill her with a sort of + alarm. “If the secrets of men’s hearts were probed, who could cast the + first stone?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to cast stones,” she began; but he made a gesture as if he + would not hear, and, at the same moment, Mr. Ogilvie entered the room. + </p> + <p> + Had Ethel been at home, she would have pondered much over her brother’s + meaning—here she had no leisure. Not only was she fully occupied + with the new scenes around her, but her Scottish cousin took up every + moment open to conversation. He was older than Norman, and had just taken + his degree, and he talked with that superior aplomb, which a few years + bestow at their time of life, without conceit, but more hopeful and + ambitious, and with higher spirits than his cousin. + </p> + <p> + Though industrious and distinguished, he had not avoided society or + amusement, was a great cricketer and tennis-player, one of the “eight” + whose success in the boat races was one of Norman’s prime interests, and + he told stories of frolics that reminded Ethel of her father’s old + Cambridge adventures. + </p> + <p> + He was a new variety in her eyes, and entertained her greatly. Where the + bounds of banter ended, was not easy to define, but whenever he tried a + little mystification, she either entered merrily into the humour, or threw + it over with keen wit that he kept constantly on the stretch. They were + always discovering odd, unexpected bits of knowledge in each other, and a + great deal more accordance in views and opinions than appeared on the + surface, for his enthusiasm usually veiled itself in persiflage on hers, + though he was too good and serious to carry it too far. + </p> + <p> + At Blenheim, perhaps he thought he had given an overdose of nonsense, and + made her believe, as Meta really did, that the Duchess Sarah was his model + woman; for as they walked in the park in search of Phoebe Mayflower’s + well, he gathered a fern leaf, to show her the Glenbracken badge, and + talked to her of his home, his mother, and his sister Marjorie, and the + little church in the rocky glen. He gave the history of the stolen + meetings of the little knot of churchmen during the days of persecution, + and showed a heart descended straight from the Ogilvie who was “out with + Montrose,” now that the upper structure of young England was for a little + while put aside. + </p> + <p> + After this, she took his jokes much more coolly, and made thrusts beneath + them, which he seemed to enjoy, and caused him to unfold himself the more. + She liked him all the better for finding that he thought Norman had been a + very good friend to him, and that he admired her brother heartily, + watching tenderly over his tendencies to make himself unhappy. He confided + to her that, much as he rejoiced in the defeats of Anderson, he feared + that the reading and thought consequent on the discussions, had helped to + overstrain Norman’s mind, and he was very anxious to carry him away from + all study, and toil, and make his brains rest, and his eyes delight + themselves upon Scottish mountains. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon came vivid descriptions of the scenery, especially his own glen + with the ruined tower, and ardent wishes that his cousin Ethel could see + them also, and know Marjorie. She could quite echo the wish, Edinburgh and + Loch Katrine had been the visions of her life, and now that she had once + taken the leap and left home, absence did not seem impossible, and, with a + start of delight, she hailed her own conviction that he intended his + mother to invite the party to Glenbracken. + </p> + <p> + After Norman’s visit, Mr. Ogilvie declared that he must come home with him + and pay his long-promised visit to Stoneborough. He should have come long + ago. He had been coming last winter, but the wedding had prevented him; he + had always wished to know Dr. May, whom his father well remembered, and + now nothing should keep him away! + </p> + <p> + Flora looked on amused and pleased at Ethel’s development—her + abruptness softened into piquancy, and her countenance so embellished, + that the irregularity only added to the expressiveness. There was no + saying what Ethel would come to! She had not said that she would not go to + the intended ball, and her grimaces at the mention of it were growing + fainter every day. + </p> + <p> + The discussion about Harvey Anderson was never revived; Flora sent the + invitation without another word—he came with half a dozen other + gentlemen—Ethel made him a civil greeting, but her head was full of + boats and the procession day, about which Mr. Ogilvie was telling her, and + she thought of him no more. + </p> + <p> + “A lucky step!” thought Flora. “A grand thing for Ethel—a capital + connection for us all. Lady Glenbracken will not come too much into my + sphere either. Yes, I am doing well by my sisters.” + </p> + <p> + It would make stay-at-home people giddy to record how much pleasure, how + much conversation and laughter were crowded into those ten days, and with + much thought and feeling beside them, for these were not girls on whom + grave Oxford could leave no impression but one of gaiety. + </p> + <p> + The whole party was very full of merriment. Norman May, especially, on + whom Flora contrived to devolve that real leadership of conversation that + should rightly have belonged to George Rivers, kept up the ball with wit + and drollery far beyond what he usually put forth; enlivened George into + being almost an agreeable man, and drew out little Meta’s vivacity into + sunny sparkles. + </p> + <p> + Meta generally had Norman for her share, and seemed highly contented with + his lionisings, which were given much more quietly and copiously than + those which his cousin bestowed upon his sister. Or if there were anything + enterprising to be done, any tower to be mounted, or anything with the + smallest spice of danger in it, Meta was charmed, and with her lightness + and airiness of foot and figure, and perfectly feminine ways, showed a + spirit of adventure that added to the general diversion. But if she were + to be helped up or down anywhere, she certainly seemed to find greater + security in Norman May’s assistance, though it was but a feather-like + touch that she ever used to aid her bounding step. + </p> + <p> + Both as being diffident, and, in a manner at home, Norman was not as + constantly her cavalier as was Mr. Ogilvie to his sister; and, when + supplanted, his wont was either to pioneer for Flora, or, if she did not + need him, to walk alone, grave and abstracted. There was a weight on his + brow, when nothing was going on to drive it away, and whether it were + nervousness as to the performance in store for him, anxiety about Harry, + or, as Mr. Ogilvie said, too severe application; some burden hung upon + him, that was only lightened for the time by his participation in the + enjoyment of the party. + </p> + <p> + On Sunday evening, when they had been entering into the almost vision-like + delight of the choicest of music, and other accompaniments of church + service, they went to walk in Christchurch Meadows. They had begun + altogether by comparing feelings—Ethel wondering whether + Stoneborough Minster would ever be used as it might be, and whether, if + so, they should be practically the better for it; and proceeding with + metaphysics on her side, and satire on Norman Ogilvie’s, to speculate + whether that which is, is best, and the rights and wrongs of striving for + change and improvements, what should begin from above, and what from + beneath—with illustrations often laughter-moving, though they were + much in earnest, as the young heir of Glenbracken looked into his future + life. + </p> + <p> + Flora had diverged into wondering who would have the living after poor old + Mr. Ramsden, and walked, keeping her husband amused with instances of his + blunders. + </p> + <p> + Meta, as with Norman she parted from the rest, thought her own dear + Abbotstoke church, and Mr Charles Wilmot, great subjects for content and + thanksgiving, though it was a wonderful treat to see and hear such as she + had enjoyed to-day; and she thought it was a joy, to carry away abidingly, + to know that praise and worship, as near perfection as this earth could + render them, were being offered up. + </p> + <p> + Norman understood her thought, but responded by more of a sigh than was + quite comfortable. + </p> + <p> + Meta went on with her own thoughts, on the connection between worship and + good works, how the one leads to the other, and how praise with pure lips + is, after all, the great purpose of existence.—Her last thought she + spoke aloud. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose everything, our own happiness and all, are given to us to turn + into praise,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—” echoed Norman; but as if his thoughts were not quite with + hers, or rather in another part of the same subject; then recalling + himself, “Happy such as can do so.” + </p> + <p> + “If one only could—” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “You can—don’t say otherwise,” exclaimed Norman; “I know, at least, + that you and my father can.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. May does so, more than any one I know,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norman again; “it is his secret of joy. To him, it is never, ‘I + am half sick of shadows’.” + </p> + <p> + “To him they are not shadows, but foretastes,” said Meta. Silence again; + and when she spoke, she said, “I have always thought it must be such a + happiness to have power of any kind that can be used in direct service, or + actual doing good.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Norman. “Whatever becomes a profession, becomes an unreality.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely not, in becoming a duty,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Not for all,” he answered; “but where the fabric erected by ourselves, in + the sight of the world, is but an outer case, a shell of mere words, blown + up for the occasion, strung together as mere language; then, + self-convicted, we shrink within the husk, and feel our own worthlessness + and hypocrisy.” + </p> + <p> + “As one feels in reproving the school children for behaving ill at + church?” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “You never felt anything approaching to it!” said Norman. “To know oneself + to be such a deception, that everything else seems a delusion too!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know whether that is metaphysical,” said Meta, “but I am sure I + don’t understand it. One must know oneself to be worse than one knows any + one else to be.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not wish you to understand,” said Norman; and yet he seemed + impelled to go on; for, after a hesitating silence, he added, “When the + wanderer in the desert fears that the spring is but a mirage; or when all + that is held dear is made hazy or distorted by some enchanter, what do you + think are the feelings, Meta?” + </p> + <p> + “It must be dreadful,” she said, rather bewildered; “but he may know it is + a delusion, if he can but wake. Has he not always a spell, a charm?—” + </p> + <p> + “What is the spell?” eagerly said Norman, standing still. + </p> + <p> + “Believe—” said Meta, hardly knowing how she came to choose the + words. + </p> + <p> + “I believe!” he repeated. “What—when we go beyond the province of + reason—human, a thing of sense after all! How often have I so + answered. But Meta, when a man has been drawn, in self-sufficient + security, to look into a magic mirror, and cannot detach his eyes from the + confused, misty scene—where all that had his allegiance appears + shattered, overthrown, like a broken image, or at least unable to endure + examination, then—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Norman, is that the trial to any one here? I thought old Oxford was + the great guardian nurse of truth! I am sure she cannot deal in magic + mirrors or such frightful things. Do you know you are talking like a very + horrible dream?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe I am in one,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure you are. Wake!” said Meta, looking up, smiling in his face. + “You have read yourself into a maze, that’s all—what Mary calls, + muzzling your head; you don’t really think all this, and when you get into + the country, away from books, you will forget it. One look at our dear old + purple Welsh hills will blow away all the mists!” + </p> + <p> + “I ought not to have spoken in this manner,” said Norman sadly. “Forget + it, Meta.” + </p> + <p> + “Forget it! Of course I will. It is all nonsense, and meant to be + forgotten,” said Meta, laughing. “You will own that it is by-and-by.” + </p> + <p> + He gave a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t think I am unfeeling,” she said; “but I know it is all a fog up + from books, books, books—I should like to drive it off with a good + fresh gust of wind! Oh! I wish those yellow lilies would grow in our + river!” + </p> + <p> + Meta talked away gaily for the rest of the walk. She was anything but + unfeeling, but she had a confidence in Norman that forbade her to see + anything here but one of his variations of spirits, which always sank in + the hour of triumph. She put forth her brightness to enliven him, and, in + their subsequent tete-a-tetes, she avoided all that could lead to a + renewal of this conversation. Ethel would not have rested till it had been + fought out. Meta thought it so imaginary, that it had better die for want + of the aliment of words; certainly, hers could not reach an intellect like + his, and she would only soothe and amuse him. Dr. May, mind-curer as well + as body-curer, would soon be here, to put the climax to the general joy + and watch his own son. + </p> + <p> + He did arrive; quite prepared to enjoy, giving an excellent account of + both homes; Mr. Rivers very well, and the Wilmots taking care of him, and + Margaret as comfortable as usual, Mary making a most important and capable + little housekeeper, Miss Bracy as good as possible. He talked as if they + had all flourished the better for Ethel’s absence, but he had evidently + missed her greatly, as he showed, without knowing it, by his instant + eagerness to have her to himself. Even Norman, prizeman as he was, was + less wanted. There was proud affection, eager congratulation, for him, but + it was Ethel to whom he wanted to tell everything that had passed during + her absence—whom he treated as if they were meeting after a tedious + separation. + </p> + <p> + They dined rather early, and went out afterwards, to walk down the High + Street to Christchurch Meadow. Norman and Ethel had been anxious for this; + they thought it would give their father the best idea of the tout ensemble + of Oxford, and were not without hopes of beating him by his own + confession, in that standing fight between him and his sons, as to the + beauties of Oxford and Cambridge—a fight in which, hitherto, they + had been equally matched—neither partisan having seen the rival + University. + </p> + <p> + Flora stayed at home; she owned herself fairly tired by her arduous duties + of following the two young ladies about, and was very glad to give her + father the keeping of them. Dr. May held out his arm to Ethel—Norman + secured his peculiar property. Ethel could have preferred that it should + be otherwise—Norman would have no companion but George Rivers; how + bored he would be! + </p> + <p> + All through the streets, while she was telling her father the names of the + buildings, she was not giving her whole attention; she was trying to + guess, from the sounds behind, whether Mr. Ogilvie were accompanying them. + They entered the meadows—Norman turned round, with a laugh, to defy + the doctor to talk of the Cam, on the banks of the Isis. The party stood + still—the other two gentlemen came up. They amalgamated again—all + the Oxonians conspiring to say spiteful things of the Cam, and Dr. May + making a spirited defence, in which Ethel found herself impelled to join. + </p> + <p> + In the wide gravelled path, they proceeded in threes; George attached + himself to his sister and Norman. Mr. Ogilvie came to Ethel’s other side, + and began to point out all the various notabilities. Ethel was happy + again; her father was so much pleased and amused, with him, and he with + her father, that it was a treat to look on. + </p> + <p> + Presently Dr. May, as usual, always meeting with acquaintances, fell in + with a county neighbour, and Ethel had another pleasant aside, until her + father claimed her, and Mr. Ogilvie was absorbed among another party, and + lost to her sight. + </p> + <p> + He came to tea, but, by that time, Dr. May had established himself in the + chair which had hitherto been appropriated to her cousin, a chair that cut + her nook off from the rest of the world, and made her the exclusive + possession of the occupant. There was a most interesting history for her + to hear, of a meeting with the Town Council, which she had left pending, + when Dr. May had been battling to save the next presentation of the living + from being sold. + </p> + <p> + Few subjects could affect Ethel more nearly, yet she caught herself + missing the thread of his discourse, in trying to hear what Mr. Ogilvie + was saying to Flora about a visit to Glenbracken. + </p> + <p> + The time came for the two Balliol men to take their leave. Norman May had + been sitting very silent all the evening, and Meta, who was near him, + respected his mood. When he said good-night, he drew Ethel outside the + door. “Ethel,” he said, “only one thing: do ask my father not to put on + his spectacles to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Ethel, half smiling; “Richard did not mind them.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard has more humility—I shall break down if he looks at me! I + wish you were all at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + The other Norman came out of the sitting-room at the moment, and heard the + last words. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said he to Ethel, “I’ll take care of him. He shall comport + himself as if you were all at Nova Zembla. A pretty fellow to talk of + despising fame, and then get a fit of stage-fright!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-night,” said Norman, sighing. “It will be over to-morrow; only + remember the spectacles.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May laughed a good deal at the request, and asked if the rest of the + party were to be blindfolded. Meta wondered that Ethel should have + mentioned the request so publicly; she was a good deal touched by it, and + she thought Dr. May ought to be so. + </p> + <p> + Good-night was said, and Dr. May put his arm round Ethel, and gave her the + kiss that she had missed for seven nights. It was very homelike, and it + brought a sudden flash of thought across Ethel! What had she been doing? + She had been impatient of her father’s monopoly of her! + </p> + <p> + She parted with Flora, and entered the room she shared with Meta, where + Bellairs waited to attend her little mistress. Few words passed between + the two girls, and those chiefly on the morrow’s dress. Meta had some + fixed ideas—she should wear pink. Norman had said he liked her pink + bonnet, and then she could put down her white veil, so that he could be + certain that she was not looking; Ethel vaguely believed Flora meant to + wear—something— + </p> + <p> + Bellairs went away, and Meta gave expression to her eager hope that Norman + would go through it well. If he would only read it as he did last Easter + to her and Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “He will,” said Ethel. “This nervousness always wears off when it comes to + the point, and he warms with his subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but think of all the eyes looking at him!” + </p> + <p> + “Our’s are all that he really cares for, and he will think of none of + them, when he begins. No, Meta, you must not encourage him in it. Papa + says, if he did not think it half morbid—the result of the shock to + his nerves—he should be angry with it as a sort of conceit!” + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought that the last thing to be said of Norman!” said + Meta, with a little suppressed indignation. + </p> + <p> + “It was once in his nature,” said Ethel; “and I think it is the fault he + most beats down. There was a time, before you knew him, when he would have + been vain and ambitious.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is as they say, conquered faults grow to be the opposite + virtues!” said Meta. “How very good he is, Ethel; one sees it more when he + is with other people, and one hears all these young men’s stories!” + </p> + <p> + “Everything Norman does not do, is not therefore wrong,” said Ethel, with + her usual lucidity of expression. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you like him the better for keeping out of all these follies?” + </p> + <p> + “Norman does not call them so, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he is too good to condemn—” + </p> + <p> + “It is not only that,” said Ethel. “I know papa thinks that the first + grief, coming at his age, and in the manner it did, checked and subdued + his spirits, so that he has little pleasure in those things. And he always + meant to be a clergyman, which acted as a sort of consecration on him; but + many things are innocent; and I do believe papa would like it better, if + Norman were less grave.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Meta, remembering the Sunday talk, “but still, he would not be + all he is—so different from others—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I don’t mean less good, only, less grave,” said Ethel, “and + certainly less nervous. But, perhaps, it is a good thing; dear mamma + thought his talents would have been a greater temptation than they seem to + be, subdued as he has been. I only meant that you must not condemn all + that Norman does not do. Now, goodnight.” + </p> + <p> + Very different were the feelings with which those two young girls + stretched themselves in their beds that night. Margaret Rivers’s innocent, + happy little heart was taken up in one contemplation. Admiration, + sympathy, and the exultation for him, which he would not feel for himself, + drew little Meta entirely out of herself—a self that never held her + much. She was proud of the slender thread of connection between them; she + was confident that his vague fancies were but the scruples of a sensitive + mind, and, as she fell sound asleep, she murmured broken lines of Decius, + mixed with promises not to look. + </p> + <p> + Etheldred heard them, for there was no sleep for her. She had a parley to + hold with herself, and to accuse her own feelings of having been unkind, + ungrateful, undutiful towards her father. What had a fit of vanity brought + her to? that she should have been teased by what would naturally have been + her greatest delight! her father’s pleasure in being with her. Was this + the girl who had lately vowed within herself that her father should be her + first earthly object? + </p> + <p> + At first, Ethel blamed herself for her secret impatience, but another + conviction crossed her, and not an unpleasing one, though it made her + cheeks tingle with maidenly shame, at having called it up. Throughout this + week, Norman Ogilvie had certainly sought her out. He had looked + disappointed this evening—there was no doubt that he was attracted + by her—by her, plain, awkward Ethel! Such a perception assuredly + never gave so much pleasure to a beauty as it did to Ethel, who had always + believed herself far less good-looking than she really was. It was a gleam + of delight, and, though she set herself to scold it down, the conviction + was elastic, and always leaped up again. + </p> + <p> + That resolution came before her, but it had been unspoken; it could not be + binding, and, if her notion were really right, the misty brilliant future + of mutual joy dazzled her! But there was another side: her father + oppressed and lonely, Margaret ill and pining, Mary, neither companion nor + authority, the children running wild; and she, who had mentally vowed + never to forsake her father, far away, enjoying her own happiness. “Ah! + that resolve had seemed easy enough when it was made, when,” thought + Ethel, “I fancied no one could care for me! Shame on me! Now is the time + to test it! I must go home with papa.” + </p> + <p> + It was a great struggle—on one side there was the deceitful guise of + modesty, telling her it was absurd to give so much importance to the + kindness of the first cousin with whom she had ever been thrown; there was + the dislike to vex Flora to make a discussion, and break up the party. + There was the desire to hear the concert, to go to the breakfast at + —— College, to return round by Warwick Castle, and Kenilworth, + as designed. Should she lose all this for a mere flattering fancy? She, + who had laughed at Miss Boulder, for imagining every one who spoke to her + was smitten. What reason could she assign? It would be simply ridiculous, + and unkind—and it was so very pleasant. Mr. Ogilvie would be too + wise to think of so incongruous a connection, which would be so sure to + displease his parents. It was more absurd than ever to think of it. The + heir of Glenbracken, and a country physician’s daughter! + </p> + <p> + That was a candid heart which owned that its own repugnance to accept this + disparity as an objection, was an additional evidence that she ought to + flee from further intercourse. She believed that no harm was done yet; she + was sure that she loved her father better than anything else in the world, + and whilst she did so, it was best to preserve her heart for him. Widowed + as he was, she knew that he would sorely miss her, and that for years to + come, she should be necessary at home. She had better come away while it + would cost only a slight pang, for that it was pain to leave Norman + Ogilvie, was symptom enough of the need of not letting her own silly heart + go further. However it might be with him, another week would only make it + worse with her. + </p> + <p> + “I will go home with papa!” was the ultimatum reached by each chain of + mental reasonings, and borne in after each short prayer for guidance, as + Ethel tossed about listening to the perpetual striking of all the Oxford + clocks, until daylight had begun to shine in; when she fell asleep, and + was only waked by Meta, standing over her with a sponge, looking very + mischievous, as she reminded her of their appointment with Dr. May, to go + to the early service in New College Chapel. + </p> + <p> + The world looked different that morning with Ethel, but the determination + was fixed, and the service strengthened it. She was so silent during the + walk, that her companions rallied her, and they both supposed she was + anxious about Norman; but taking her opportunity, when Meta was gone to + prepare for breakfast, she rushed, in her usual way, into the subject. + “Papa! if you please, I should like to go home to-morrow with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” said the doctor, amazed. “How is this? I told you that Miss Bracy + and Mary are doing famously.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I had rather go back.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” and Dr. May looked at the door, and spoke low. “They make you + welcome, I hope—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! nothing can be kinder.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it. This Rivers is such a lout, that I could not tell + how it might be. I did not look to see you turn homesick all at once.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel smiled. “Yes, I have been very happy; but please, papa, ask no + questions—only take me home.” + </p> + <p> + “Come! it is all a homesick fit, Ethel—never fear the ball. Think of + the concert. If it were not for that poor baby of Mrs. Larkins, I should + stay myself to hear Sonntag again. You won’t have such another chance.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but I think I ought to go—” + </p> + <p> + George came in, and they could say no more. Both were silent on the + subject at breakfast, but when afterwards Flora seized on Ethel, to array + her for the theatre, she was able to say, “Flora, please don’t be angry + with me—you have been very kind to me, but I mean to go home with + papa to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I declare!” said Flora composedly, “you are as bad as the children at the + infant school, crying to go home the instant they see their mothers!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Flora, but I must go. Thank you for all this pleasure, but I shall + have heard Norman’s poem, and then I must go.” + </p> + <p> + Flora turned her round, looked in her face kindly, kissed her, and said, + “My dear, never mind, it will all come right again—only, don’t run + away.” + </p> + <p> + “What will come right?” + </p> + <p> + “Any little misunderstanding with Norman Ogilvie.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you mean,” said Ethel, becoming scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, you need not try to hide it. I see that you have got into a + fright. You have made a discovery, but that is no reason for running + away.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes it is!” said Ethel firmly, not denying the charge, though reddening + more than ever at finding her impression confirmed. + </p> + <p> + “Poor child! she is afraid!” said Flora tenderly; “but I will take care of + you, Ethel. It is everything delightful. You are the very girl for such a + heros de Roman, and it has embellished you more than all my Paris + fineries.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Flora! We ought not to talk in this way, as if—” + </p> + <p> + “As if he had done more than walk with, and talk with, nobody else! How he + did hate papa last night. I had a great mind to call papa off, in pity to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t, Flora. If there were anything in it, it would not be proper to + think of it, so I am going home to prevent it.” The words were spoken with + averted face and heaving breath. + </p> + <p> + “Proper?” said Flora. “The Mays are a good old family, and our own + grandmother was an honourable Ogilvie herself. A Scottish baron, very poor + too, has no right to look down—” + </p> + <p> + “They shall not look down. Flora, it is of no use to talk. I cannot be + spared from home, and I will not put myself in the way of being tempted to + forsake them all.” + </p> + <p> + “Tempted!” said Flora, laughing. “Is it such a wicked thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in others, but it would be wrong in me, with such a state of things + as there is at home.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not suppose he would want you for some years to come. He is only + two-and-twenty. Mary will grow older.” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret will either be married, or want constant care. Flora, I will not + let myself be drawn from them.” + </p> + <p> + “You may think so now; but it would be for their real good to relieve papa + of any of us. If we were all to think as you do, how should we live? I + don’t know—for papa told me there will be barely ten thousand + pounds, besides the houses, and what will that be among ten? I am not + talking of yourself, but think of the others!” + </p> + <p> + “I know papa will not be happy without me, and I will not leave him,” + repeated Ethel, not answering the argument. + </p> + <p> + Flora changed her ground, and laughed. “We are getting into the heroics,” + she said, “when it would be very foolish to break up our plans, only + because we have found a pleasant cousin. There is nothing serious in it, I + dare say. How silly of us to argue on such an idea!” + </p> + <p> + Meta came in before Flora could say more, but Ethel, with burning cheeks, + repeated, “It will be safer!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel had, meantime, been dressed by her sister; and, as Bellairs came to + adorn Meta, and she could have no solitude, she went downstairs, thinking + she heard Norman’s step, and hoping to judge of his mood. + </p> + <p> + She entered the room with an exclamation, “Oh, Norman!” + </p> + <p> + “At your service!” said the wrong Norman, looking merrily up from behind a + newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg your pardon; I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “Your thoughts were quite right,” he said, smiling. “Your brother desires + me to present his respects to his honoured family, and to inform them that + his stock of assurance is likely to be diminished by the pleasure of their + company this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “How is he?” asked Ethel anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty fair. He has blue saucers round his eyes, as he had before he went + up for his little go.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know them,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Very odd,” continued her cousin; “when the end always is, that he says he + has the luck of being set on in the very place he knows best. But I think + it has expended itself in a sleepless night, and I have no fears, when he + comes to the point.” + </p> + <p> + “What is he doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Writing to his brother Harry. He said it was the day for the Pacific + mail, and that Harry’s pleasure would be the best of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Ethel, glancing towards the paper, “is there any naval + intelligence?” + </p> + <p> + He looked; and while she was thinking whether she ought not to depart, he + exclaimed, in a tone that startled her, “Ha! No. Is your brother’s ship + the Alcestis?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Oh, what?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing then, I assure you. See, it is merely this—she has not come + into Sydney so soon as expected, which you knew before. That is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” said the trembling Ethel. + </p> + <p> + It was no more than an echo of their unconfessed apprehensions, yet it + seemed to give them a body; and Ethel’s thoughts flew to Margaret. Her + going home would be absolutely necessary now. Mr. Ogilvie kindly began to + talk away her alarm, saying that there was still no reason for dread, + mentioning the many causes that might have delayed the ship, and + reassuring her greatly. + </p> + <p> + “But Norman!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! true. Poor May! He will break down to a certainty if he hears it. I + will go at once, and keep guard over him, lest he should meet with this + paper. But pray, don’t be alarmed. I assure you there is no cause. You + will have letters to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel would fain have thrown off her finery and hurried home at once, but + no one regarded the matter as she did. Dr. May agreed with Flora that it + was no worse than before, and though they now thought Ethel’s return + desirable, on Margaret’s account, it would be better not to add to the + shock by a sudden arrival, especially as they took in no daily paper at + home. So the theatre was not to be given up, nor any of the subsequent + plans, except so far as regarded Ethel; and, this agreed, they started for + the scene of action. + </p> + <p> + They were hardly in the street before they met the ubiquitous Mr. Ogilvie, + saying that Cheviot, Norman’s prompter, was aware of the report, and was + guarding him, while he came to escort the ladies, through what he + expressively called “the bear fight.” Ethel resolutely adhered to her + father, and her cousin took care of Meta, who had been clinging in a + tiptoe manner to the point of her brother’s high elbow, looking as if the + crowd might easily brush off such a little fly, without his missing her. + </p> + <p> + Inch by inch, a step at a time, the ladies were landed in a crowd of their + own sex, where Flora bravely pioneered; they emerged on their benches, + shook themselves out, and seated themselves. There was the swarm of gay + ladies around them, and beneath the area, fast being paved with heads, + black, brown, gray, and bald, a surging living sea, where Meta soon + pointed out Dr. May and George; the mere sight of such masses of people + was curious and interesting, reminding Ethel of Cherry Elwood having once + shocked her by saying the Whit-Monday club was the most beautiful sight in + the whole year. And above! that gallery of trampling undergraduates, and + more than trampling! Ethel and Meta could, at first, have found it in + their hearts to be frightened at those thundering shouts, but the young + ladies were usually of opinions so similar, that the louder grew the + cheers, the more they laughed and exulted, so carried along that no cares + could be remembered. + </p> + <p> + Making a way through the thronged area, behold the procession of scarlet + doctors, advancing through the midst, till the red and black + vice-chancellor sat enthroned in the centre, and the scarlet line became a + semicircle, dividing the flower-garden of ladies from the black mass + below. + </p> + <p> + Then came the introduction of the honorary doctors, one by one, with the + Latin speech, which Ethel’s companions unreasonably required her to + translate to them, while she was using all her ears to catch a word or + two, and her eyes to glimpse at the features of men of note. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by a youth made his appearance in the rostrum, and a good deal of + Latin ensued, of which Flora hoped Ethel was less tired than she was. In + time, however, Meta saw the spectacles removed, and George looking + straight up, and she drew down her veil, and took hold of Flora’s hand, + and Ethel flushed like a hot coal. Nevertheless, all contrived to see a + tall figure, with face much flushed, and hands moving nervously. The world + was tired, and people were departing, so that the first lines were lost, + perhaps a satisfaction to Norman; but his voice soon cleared and became + louder, his eyes lighted, and Ethel knew the “funny state” had come to his + relief—people’s attention was arrested—there was no more going + away. + </p> + <p> + It was well that Norman was ignorant of the fears for Harry, for four + lines had been added since Ethel had seen the poem, saying how + self-sacrifice sent forth the sailor-boy from home, to the lone watch, the + wave and storm, his spirit rising high, ere manhood braced his form. + </p> + <p> + Applause did not come where Ethel had expected it, and, at first, there + was silence at the close, but suddenly the acclamations rose with + deafening loudness, though hardly what greets some poems with more to + catch the popular ear. + </p> + <p> + Ethel’s great excitement was over, and presently she found herself outside + of the theatre, a shower falling, and an umbrella held over her by Mr. + Ogilvie, who was asking her if it was not admirable, and declaring the + poem might rank with Heber’s ‘Palestine’, or Milman’s ‘Apollo’. + </p> + <p> + They were bound for a great luncheon at one of the colleges, where Ethel + might survey the Principal with whom Miss Rich had corresponded. Mr. + Ogilvie sat next to her, told her all the names, and quizzed the + dignitaries, but she had a sense of depression, and did not wish to enter + into the usual strain of banter. He dropped his lively tone, and drew her + out about Harry, till she was telling eagerly of her dear sailor brother, + and found him so sympathising and considerate, that she did not like him + less; though she felt her intercourse with him a sort of intoxication, + that would only make it the worse for her by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + During that whole luncheon, and their walk through the gardens, where + there was a beautiful horticultural show, something was always prompting + her to say, while in this quasi-privacy, that she was on the eve of + departure, but she kept her resolution against it—she thought it + would have been an unwarrantable experiment. When they returned to their + inn they found Norman looking fagged, but relieved, half asleep on the + sofa, with a novel in his hand. He roused himself as they came in, and, to + avoid any compliments on his own performance, began, “Well, Ethel, are you + ready for the ball?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall spare her the ball,” said Dr. May; “there is a report about the + Alcestis in the newspaper that may make Margaret uncomfortable, and this + good sister will not stay away from her.” + </p> + <p> + Norman started up crying, “What, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a mere nothing in reality,” said Dr. May, “only what we knew + before;” and he showed his son the paragraph, which Norman read as a death + warrant; the colour ebbed from his lips and cheeks; he trembled so that he + was obliged to sit down, and, without speaking, he kept his eyes fixed on + the words, “Serious apprehensions are entertained with regard to H. M. S. + Alcestis, Captain Gordon—” + </p> + <p> + “If you had seen as many newspaper reports come to nothing, as I have, you + would not take this so much to heart,” said Dr. May. “I expect to hear + that this very mail has brought letters.” + </p> + <p> + And Meta added that, at luncheon, she had been seated next to one of the + honorary doctors—a naval captain—who had been making + discoveries in the South Sea, and that he had scouted the notion of harm + befalling the Alcestis, and given all manner of reassuring suppositions as + to her detention, adding besides, that no one believed the Australian + paper whence the report was taken. He had seen the Alcestis, knew Captain + Gordon, and spoke of him as one of the safest people in the world. Had his + acquaintance extended to lieutenants and midshipmen, it would have been + perfect; as it was, the tidings brought back the blood to Norman’s cheek, + and the light to his eye. + </p> + <p> + “When do we set off?” was Norman’s question. + </p> + <p> + “At five,” said Ethel. “You mean it, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I did intend it, if I had gone alone, but I shall not take you till + eight; nor you, Norman, at all.” + </p> + <p> + Norman was bent on returning, but his father and Flora would not hear of + it. Flora could not spare him, and Dr. May was afraid of the effect of + anxiety on nerves and spirits so sensitive. While this was going on, Mr. + Ogilvie looked at Ethel in consternation, and said, “Are you really going + home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my eldest sister must not be left alone when she hears this.” + </p> + <p> + He looked down—Ethel had the resolution to walk away. Flora could + not give up the ball, and Meta found that she must go; but both the + Normans spent a quiet evening with Dr. May and Ethel. Norman May had a bad + headache, which he was allowed to have justly earned; Dr. May was very + happy reviving all his Scottish recollections, and talking to young + Ogilvie about Edinburgh. Once, there was a private consultation. Ethel was + provoked and ashamed at the throbs that it would excite. What! on a week’s + acquaintance? + </p> + <p> + When alone with her father, she began to nerve herself for something + heroic, and great was her shame when she heard only of her cousin’s kind + consideration for her brother, whom he wished to take home with him, and + thence to see the Highlands, so as to divert his anxiety for Harry, as + well as to call him off from the studies with which he had this term + overworked himself even more than usual. Dr. May had given most grateful + consent, and he spoke highly in praise of the youth; but there was no more + to come, and Ethel could have beaten herself for the moment of + anticipation. + </p> + <p> + Meta came home, apologising for wakening Ethel; but Ethel had not been + asleep. The ball had not, it seemed, been as charming to her as most + events were, and Ethel heard a sigh as the little lady lay down in her + bed. + </p> + <p> + Late as it was when she went to rest, Meta rose to see the travellers off; + she sent hosts of messages to her father, and wished she might go with + them. George and Flora were not visible, and Dr. May was leaving messages + for them, and for Norman, in her charge, when the two Balliol men walked + in. + </p> + <p> + Ethel had hoped it was over, yet she could not be sorry that the two + youths escorted them to the station, and, as Ethel was placed in the + carriage, she believed that she heard something of never forgetting—happiest + week—but in the civilities which the other occupant of the carriage + was offering for the accommodation of their lesser luggage, she lost the + exact words, and the last she heard were, “Good-bye; I hope you will find + letters at home.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + True to the kindred points of Heaven and home. + WORDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + Etheldred’s dream was over. She had wakened to the inside of a Great + Western carriage, her father beside her, and opposite a thin, + foreign-looking gentleman. Her father, to whom her life was to be devoted! + She looked at his profile, defined against the window, and did not repent. + In a sort of impulse to do something for him, she took his hat from his + hand, and was going to dispose of it in the roof, when he turned, smiling + his thanks, but saying, “it was not worth while—this carriage was a + very transitory resting-place.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger at that moment sprang to his feet, exclaiming, “Dick + himself!” + </p> + <p> + “Spencer, old fellow, is it you?” cried Dr. May, in a voice of equal + amazement and joy, holding out his hand, which was grasped and wrung with + a force that made Ethel shrink for the poor maimed arm. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! what is amiss with your arm?” was the immediate question. Three + technical words were spoken in a matter-of-fact way, as Dr. May replaced + his hand in his bosom, and then, with an eager smile, said, “Ethel, here! + You have heard of him!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel had indeed, and gave her hand cordially, surprised by the bow and + air of deferential politeness with which it was received, like a favour, + while Dr. Spencer asked her whether she had been staying in Oxford. + </p> + <p> + “Ay; and what for, do you think?” said Dr. May joyously. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say that was your son who held forth yesterday! I thought his + voice had a trick of yours—but then I thought you would have held by + old Cambridge.” + </p> + <p> + “What could I do?” said Dr. May deprecatingly; “the boy would go and get a + Balliol scholarship—” + </p> + <p> + “Why! the lad is a genius! a poet—no mistake about it! but I + scarcely thought you could have one of such an age.” + </p> + <p> + “Of his age! His brother is in Holy Orders—one of his sisters is + married. There’s for you, Spencer!” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, Dick! I thought myself a young man!” + </p> + <p> + “What! with hair of that colour?” said Dr. May, looking at his friend’s + milk-white locks. + </p> + <p> + “Bleached by that frightful sickly season at Poonshedagore, when I thought + I was done for. But you! you—the boy of the whole lot! You think me + very disrespectful to your father,” added he, turning to Ethel, “but you + see what old times are.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Ethel, with a bright look. + </p> + <p> + “So you were in the theatre yesterday,” continued Dr. May; “but there is + no seeing any one in such a throng. How long have you been in England?” + </p> + <p> + “A fortnight. I went at once to see my sister, at Malvern; there I fell in + with Rudden, the man I was with in New Guinea. He was going up to be made + an honorary doctor, and made me come with him.” + </p> + <p> + “And where are you bound for?” as the train showed signs of a halt. + </p> + <p> + “For London. I meant to hunt up Mat. Fleet, and hear of you, and other old + friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he expect you?” + </p> + <p> + “No one expects me. I am a regular vagabond.” + </p> + <p> + “Come home with us,” said Dr. May, laying his hand on his arm. “I cannot + part with you so soon. Come, find your luggage. Take your ticket for + Gloucester.” + </p> + <p> + “So suddenly! Will it not be inconvenient?” said he, looking tempted, but + irresolute. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no; pray come!” said Ethel eagerly. “We shall be so glad.” + </p> + <p> + He looked his courteous thanks, and soon was with them en-route for + Stoneborough. + </p> + <p> + Ethel’s thoughts were diverted from all she had left at Oxford. She could + not but watch those two old friends. She knew enough of the traveller to + enter into her father’s happiness, and to have no fears is of another Sir + Matthew. + </p> + <p> + They had been together at Stoneborough, at Cambridge, at Paris, at + Edinburgh, always linked in the closest friendship; but, by Dr. May’s own + account, his friend had been the diligent one of the pair, a bright + compound of principle and spirit, and highly distinguished in all his + studies, and Dr. May’s model of perfection. Their paths had since lain far + apart, and they had not seen each other since, twenty-six years ago, they + had parted in London—the one to settle at his native town, while the + other accepted a situation as travelling physician. On his return, he had + almost sacrificed his life, by self-devoted attendance on a fever-stricken + emigrant-ship. He had afterwards received an appointment in India, and + there the correspondence had died away, and Dr. May had lost traces of + him, only knowing that, in a visitation of cholera, he had again acted + with the same carelessness of his own life, and a severe illness, which + had broken up his health, had occasioned him to relinquish his post. + </p> + <p> + It now appeared that he had thought himself coming home ever since. He had + gone to recruit in the Himalayas, and had become engrossed in scientific + observations on their altitudes, as well as investigations in natural + history. Going to Calcutta, he had fallen in with a party about to explore + the Asiatic islands and he had accompanied them, as well as going on an + expedition into the interior of Australia. He had been employed in various + sanitary arrangements there and in India, and had finally worked his way + slowly home, overland, visiting Egypt and Palestine, and refreshing his + memory with every Italian, German, or French Cathedral, or work of art, + that had delighted him in early days. + </p> + <p> + He was a slight small man, much sunburned, nearly bald, and his hair + snowy, but his eyes were beautiful, very dark, soft, and smiling, and yet + their gaze peculiarly keen and steady, as if ready for any emergency, and + his whole frame was full of alertness and vigour. His voice was clear and + sweet, and his manner most refined and polished, indeed, his courtesy to + Ethel, whenever there was a change of carriage, was so exemplary, that she + understood it as the effect on a chivalrous mind, of living where a lady + was a rare and precious article. It frightened Ethel a little at first, + but, before the end of the journey, she had already begun to feel towards + him like an old friend—one of those inheritances who are so much + valued and loved, like a sort of uncles-in-friendship. She had an especial + grateful honour for the delicate tact which asked no questions, as she saw + his eye often falling anxiously on her father’s left hand, where the + wedding ring shone upon the little finger. + </p> + <p> + There was talk enough upon his travels, on public changes, and on old + friends; but, after those first few words, home had never been mentioned. + </p> + <p> + When, at five o’clock, the engine blew its whistle, at the old familiar + station, Dr. May had scarcely put his head out before Adams hastened up to + him with a note. + </p> + <p> + “All well at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, Miss Margaret sent up the gig.” + </p> + <p> + “I must go at once,” said Dr May hastily—“the Larkins’ child is + worse. Ethel, take care of him, and introduce him. Love to Margaret. I’ll + be at home before tea.” + </p> + <p> + He was driven off at speed, and Ethel proposed to walk home. Dr Spencer + gave her his arm, and was silent, but presently said, in a low, anxious + voice, “My dear, you must forgive me, I have heard nothing for many years. + Your mother—” + </p> + <p> + “It was an accident,” said Ethel looking straight before her. “It was when + papa’s arm was hurt. The carriage was over-turned.” + </p> + <p> + “And—” repeated Dr Spencer earnestly + </p> + <p> + “She was killed on the spot,” said Ethel, speaking shortly, and abruptly. + If she was to say it at all, she could not do so otherwise. + </p> + <p> + He was dreadfully shocked—she knew it by the shudder of his arm, and + a tight suppressed groan. He did not speak, and Ethel, as if a relief from + the silence must be made, said what was not very consoling, and equally + blunt. “Margaret had some harm done to her spine—she cannot walk.” + </p> + <p> + He did not seem to hear, but walked on, as in a dream, where Ethel guided + him, and she would not interrupt him again. + </p> + <p> + They had just passed Mr Bramshaw’s office, when a voice was heard behind, + calling, “Miss Ethel! Miss Ethel!” and Edward Anderson, now articled to + Mr. Bramshaw, burst out, pen in hand, and looking shabby and inky. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Ethel!” he said breathlessly, “I beg your pardon, but have you heard + from Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Ethel. “Have they had that paper at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of,” said Edward. “My mother wanted to send it, but I + would not take it—not while Dr. May was away.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—that was very kind of you.” + </p> + <p> + “And oh! Miss Ethel, do you think it is true?” + </p> + <p> + “We hope not,” said Ethel kindly—“we saw a Captain at Oxford who + thought it not at all to be depended on.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad,” said Edward; and, shaking hands, he went back to his high + stool, Ethel feeling that he deserved the pains that Norman had taken to + spare and befriend him. She spoke to her companion in explanation. “We are + very anxious for news of my next brother’s ship, Alcestis, in the Pacific—” + </p> + <p> + “More!” exclaimed poor Dr. Spencer, almost overpowered; “Good Heavens! I + thought May, at least, was happy!” + </p> + <p> + “He is not unhappy,” said Ethel, not sorry that they had arrived at the + back entrance of the shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + “How long ago was this?” said he, standing still, as soon as they had + passed into the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Four years, next October. I assure you, his spirits are almost always + good.” + </p> + <p> + “When I was at Adelaide, little thinking!” he sighed, then recollecting + himself. “Forgive me, I have given you pain.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “or rather, I gave you more.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew her—” and there he broke off, paused for a minute, then + collecting himself, seemed resolutely to turn away from the subject, and + said, walking on, “This garden is not much altered.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment, a little shrill voice broke out in remonstrance among the + laurels—“But you know, Daisy, you are the captain of the forty + thieves!” + </p> + <p> + “A startling announcement!” said Dr. Spencer, looking at Ethel, and the + next two steps brought them in view of the play-place in the laurels, + where Aubrey lay on the ground, feigning sleep, but keeping a watchful eye + over Blanche, who was dropping something into the holes of inverted + flower-pots, Gertrude dancing about in a way that seemed to have called + for the reproof of the more earnest actors. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel! Ethel!” screamed the children, with one voice, and, while the two + girls stood in shyness at her companion, Aubrey had made a dart at her + neck, and hung upon her, arms, legs, body, and all, like a wild cat. + </p> + <p> + “That will do! that will do, old man—let go! Speak to Dr. Spencer, + my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Blanche did so demurely, and asked where was papa? + </p> + <p> + “Coming, as soon as he has been to Mrs. Larkins’s poor baby.” + </p> + <p> + “George Larkins has been here,” said Aubrey. “And I have finished ‘Vipera + et lima’, Ethel, but Margaret makes such false quantities!” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name, youngster?” said Dr. Spencer, laying his hand on + Aubrey’s head. + </p> + <p> + “Aubrey Spencer May,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “Hey day! where did you steal my name?” exclaimed Dr. Spencer, while + Aubrey stood abashed at so mysterious an accusation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Blanche, seizing on Ethel, and whispering, “is it really + the boy that climbed the market cross?” + </p> + <p> + “You see your fame lives here,” said Ethel, smiling, as Dr. Spencer + evidently heard. + </p> + <p> + “He was a little boy!” said Aubrey indignantly, looking at the gray-haired + man. + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Ethel to Dr. Spencer. + </p> + <p> + “The tables turned!” he said, laughing heartily. “But do not let me keep + you. You would wish to prepare your sister for a stranger, and I shall + improve my acquaintance here. Where are the forty thieves?” + </p> + <p> + “I am all of them,” said the innocent, daisy-faced Gertrude; and Ethel + hastened towards the house, glad of the permission granted by his true + good-breeding. + </p> + <p> + There was a shriek of welcome from Mary, who sat working beside Margaret. + Ethel was certain that no evil tidings had come to her eldest sister, so + joyous was her exclamation of wonder and rebuke to her home-sick Ethel. + “Naughty girl! running home at once! I did think you would have been happy + there!” + </p> + <p> + “So I was,” said Ethel hastily; “but who do you think I have brought + home?” Margaret flushed with such a pink, that Ethel resolved never to set + her guessing again, and hurried to explain; and having heard that all was + well, and taken her housekeeping measures, she proceeded to fetch the + guest; but Mary, who had been unusually silent all this time, ran after + her, and checked her. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, have you heard?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Have you?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “George Larkins rode in this morning to see when papa would come home, and + he told me. He said I had better not tell Margaret, for he did not believe + it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have not! That is very good of you, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am glad you are come! I could not have helped telling, if you had + been away a whole week! But, Ethel, does papa believe it?” Poor Mary’s + full lip swelled, and her eyes swam, ready to laugh or weep, in full faith + in her sister’s answer. + </p> + <p> + Ethel told of Meta’s captain, and the smile predominated, and settled down + into Mary’s usual broad beamy look, like a benignant rising sun on the + sign of an inn, as Ethel praised her warmly for a fortitude and + consideration of which she had not thought her capable. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer was discovered full in the midst of the comedy of the forty + thieves, alternating, as required, between the robber-captain and the ass, + and the children in perfect ecstasies with him. + </p> + <p> + They all followed in his train to the drawing-room, and were so clamorous, + that he could have no conversation with Margaret. He certainly made them + so, but Ethel, remembering what a blow her disclosures had been, thought + it would be only a kindness to send Aubrey to show him to his room, where + he might have some peace. + </p> + <p> + She was not sorry to be very busy, so as to have little time to reply to + the questions on the doings at Oxford, and the cause of her sudden return; + and yet it would have been a comfort to be able to sit down to understand + herself, and recall her confused thoughts. But solitary reflection was a + thing only to be hoped for in that house in bed, and Ethel was obliged to + run up and down, and attend to everybody, under an undefined sense that + she had come home to a dull, anxious world of turmoil. + </p> + <p> + Margaret seemed to guess nothing, that was one comfort; she evidently + thought that her return was fully accounted for by the fascination of her + papa’s presence in a strange place. She gave Ethel no credit for the + sacrifice, naturally supposing that she could not enjoy herself away from + home. Ethel did not know whether to be glad or not; she was relieved, but + it was flat. As to Norman Ogilvie, one or two inquiries whether she liked + him, and if Norman were going to Scotland with him, were all that passed, + and it was very provoking to be made so hot and conscious by them. + </p> + <p> + She could not begin to dress till late, and while she was unpacking, she + heard her father come home, among the children’s loud welcomes, and go to + the drawing-room. He presently knocked at the door between their rooms. + </p> + <p> + “So Margaret does not know?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mary has been so very good;” and she told what had passed. + </p> + <p> + “Well done, Mary, I must tell her so. She is a good girl on a pinch, you + see!” + </p> + <p> + “And we don’t speak of it now? Or will it hurt Margaret more to think we + keep things from her?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the worst risk of the two. I have seen great harm done in that + way. Mention it, but without seeming to make too much of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “You had better—it will seem of less importance. I think nothing of + it myself.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Ethel saw that he could not trust himself to broach the + subject to Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “How was the Larkins’ baby?” + </p> + <p> + “Doing better. What have you done with Spencer?” + </p> + <p> + “I put him into Richard’s room. The children were eating him up! He is so + kind to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay! I say, Ethel, that was a happy consequence of your coming home with + me.” + </p> + <p> + “What a delightful person he is!” + </p> + <p> + “Is he not? A true knight errant, as he always was! I could not tell you + what I owed to him as a boy—all my life, I may say. Ethel,” he added + suddenly: “we must do our best to make him happy here. I know it now—I + never guessed it then, but one is very hard and selfish when one is happy—” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I see it now,” continued Dr. May incoherently; “the cause of his + wandering life—advantages thrown aside. He! the most worthy. Things + I little heeded at the time have come back on me! I understand why he + banished himself!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Ethel bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “She never had an idea of it; but I might have guessed from what fell from + him unconsciously, for not a word would he have said—nor did he say, + to show how he sacrificed himself!” + </p> + <p> + “Who was it? Aunt Flora?” said Ethel, beginning to collect his meaning. + </p> + <p> + “No, Ethel, it was your own dear mother! You will think this another + romantic fancy of mine, but I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “How—what? Ah! I remembered after we parted that he might know + nothing—” + </p> + <p> + “He asked me,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “And how did he bear it?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel told, and the tears filled her father’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It was wrong and cruel in me to bring him home unprepared! and then to + leave it to you. I always forget other people’s feelings. Poor Spencer! + And now, Ethel, you see what manner of man we have here, and how we ought + to treat him.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do!” + </p> + <p> + “The most unselfish—the most self-sacrificing—” continued Dr. + May. “And to see what it all turned on! I happened to have this place open + to me—the very cause, perhaps, of my having taken things easy—and + so the old Professor threw opportunities in my way; while Aubrey Spencer, + with every recommendation that man could have, was set aside, and exiled + himself, leaving the station, and all he might so easily have gained. Ah, + Ethel, Sir Matthew Fleet never came near him in ability. But not one word + to interfere with me would he say, and—how I have longed to meet him + again, after parting in my selfish, unfeeling gladness; and now I have + nothing to do for him, but show him how little I was to be trusted with + her.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel never knew how to deal with these occasional bursts of grief, but + she said that she thought Dr. Spencer was very much pleased to have met + with him, and delighted with the children. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! well, you are her children,” said Dr. May, with his hand on Ethel’s + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + So they went downstairs, and found Mary making tea; and Margaret, fearing + Dr. Spencer was overwhelmed with his young admirers—for Aubrey and + Gertrude were one on each knee, and Blanche standing beside him, + inflicting on him a catalogue of the names and ages of all the eleven. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel has introduced you, I see,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I assure you, it was an alarming introduction. No sooner do I enter + your garden, than I hear that I am in the midst of the Forty Thieves. I + find a young lady putting the world to death, after the fashion of Hamlet—and, + looking about to find what I have lost, I find this urchin has robbed me + of my name—a property I supposed was always left to unfortunate + travellers, however small they might be chopped themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Aubrey boy, will you make restitution?” + </p> + <p> + “It is my name,” said Aubrey positively; for, as his father added, “He is + not without dread of the threat being fulfilled, and himself left to be + that Anon who, Blanche says, writes so much poetry.” + </p> + <p> + Aubrey privately went to Ethel, to ask her if this were possible; and she + had to reassure him, by telling him that they were “only in fun.” + </p> + <p> + It was fun with a much deeper current though; for Dr. Spencer was saying, + with a smile, between gratification and sadness, “I did not think my name + would have been remembered here so long.” + </p> + <p> + “We had used up mine, and the grandfathers’, and the uncles’, and began to + think we might look a little further a-field,” said Dr. May. “If I had + only known where you were, I would have asked you to be the varlet’s + godfather; but I was much afraid you were nowhere in the land of the + living.” + </p> + <p> + “I have but one godson, and he is coffee-coloured! I ought to have + written; but, you see, for seven years I thought I was coming home.” + </p> + <p> + Aubrey had recovered sufficiently to observe to Blanche, “That was almost + as bad as Ulysses,” which, being overheard and repeated, led to the + information that he was Ethel’s pupil, whereupon Dr. Spencer began to + inquire after the school, and to exclaim at his friend for having deserted + it in the person of Tom. Dr. May looked convicted, but said it was all + Norman’s fault; and Dr. Spencer, shaking his head at Blanche, opined that + the young gentleman was a great innovater, and that he was sure he was at + the bottom of the pulling down the Market Cross, and the stopping up + Randall’s Alley—iniquities of the “nasty people,” of which she + already had made him aware. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Norman, he suffered enough anent Randall’s Alley,” said Dr. May; + “but as to the Market Cross, that came down a year before he was born.” + </p> + <p> + “It was the Town Council!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “One of the ordinary stultifications of Town Councils?” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Spencer,” said Dr. May. “I am a Town Council man my-self—” + </p> + <p> + “You, Dick!” and he turned with a start of astonishment, and went into a + fit of laughing, re-echoed by all the young ones, who were especially + tickled by hearing, from another, the abbreviation that had, hitherto, + only lived in the favourite expletive, “As sure as my name is Dick May.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Dr. May. “‘Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not + suspect my years? One that hath two gowns, and everything handsome about + him!’” + </p> + <p> + His friend laughed the more, and they betook themselves to the College + stories, of which the quotation from Dogberry seemed to have reminded + them. + </p> + <p> + There was something curious and affecting in their manner to each other. + Often it was the easy bantering familiarity of the two youths they had + once been together, with somewhat of elder brotherhood on Dr. Spencer’s + side—and of looking up on Dr. May’s—and just as they had + recurred to these terms, some allusion would bring back to Dr. Spencer, + that the heedless, high-spirited “Dick,” whom he had always had much ado + to keep out of scrapes, was a householder, a man of weight and influence; + a light which would at first strike him as most ludicrous, and then mirth + would end in a sigh, for there was yet another aspect! After having + thought of him so long as the happy husband of Margaret Mackenzie, he + found her place vacant, and the trace of deep grief apparent on the + countenance, once so gay—the oppression of anxiety marked on the + brow, formerly so joyous, the merriment almost more touching than gravity + would have been, for the former nature seemed rather shattered than + altered. In merging towards this side, there was a tender respect in Dr. + Spencer’s manner that was most beautiful, though this evening such + subjects were scrupulously kept at the utmost distance, by the constant + interchange of new and old jokes and stories. + </p> + <p> + Only when bed-time had come, and Margaret had been carried off—did a + silence fall on the two friends, unbroken till Dr. May rose and proposed + going upstairs. When he gave his hand to wish good-night, Dr. Spencer held + it this time most carefully, and said, “Oh, May! I did not expect this!” + </p> + <p> + “I should have prepared you,” said his host, “but I never recollected that + you knew nothing—” + </p> + <p> + “I had dwelt on your happiness!” + </p> + <p> + “There never were two happier creatures for twenty-two years,” said Dr. + May, his voice low with emotion. “Sorrow spared her! Yes, think of her + always in undimmed brightness—always smiling as you remember her. + She was happy. She is,” he concluded. His friend had turned aside and + hidden his face with his hands, then looked up for a moment, “And you, + Dick,” he said briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Sorrow spared her,” was Dr. May’s first answer. “And hers are very good + children!” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence again, ending in Dr. May’s saying, “What do you think + of my poor girl?” + </p> + <p> + They discussed the nature of the injury: Dr. Spencer could not feel + otherwise than that it was a very hopeless matter. Her father owned that + he had thought so from the first, and had wondered at Sir Matthew Fleet’s + opinion. His subdued tone of patience and resignation, struck his guest + above all, as changed from what he had once been. + </p> + <p> + “You have been sorely tried,” he said, when they parted at his room door. + </p> + <p> + “I have received much good!” simply answered Dr. May. “Goodnight! I am + glad to have you here—if you can bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bear it? Dick! how like that girl is to you! She is yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “Such a self as I never was! Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel overcame the difficulty of giving the account of the newspaper alarm + with tolerable success, by putting the story of Meta’s conversation + foremost. Margaret did not take it to heart as much as she had feared, nor + did she appear to dwell on it afterwards. The truth was perhaps that Dr. + Spencer’s visit was to every one more of an excitement and amusement than + it was to Ethel. Not that she did not like him extremely, but after such a + week as she had been spending, the home-world seemed rather stale and + unprofitable. + </p> + <p> + Miss Bracy relapsed into a state of “feelings,” imagining that Ethel had + distrusted her capabilities, and therefore returned; or as Ethel herself + sometimes feared, there might be irritability in her own manner that gave + cause of annoyance. The children were inclined to be riotous with their + new friend, who made much of them continually, and especially patronised + Aubrey; Mary was proud of showing how much she had learned to do for + Margaret in her sister’s absence; Dr. May was so much taken up with his + friend, that Ethel saw less of him than usual, and she began to believe + that it had been all a mistake that every one was so dependent on her, + for, in fact, they did much better without her. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, she heard of the gaieties which the others were enjoying, and + she could not feel heroic when they regretted her. At the end of a week, + Meta Rivers was escorted home from Warwick by two servants, and came to + Stoneborough, giving a lively description of all the concluding pleasures, + but declaring that Ethel’s departure had taken away the zest of the whole, + and Mr. Ogilvie had been very disconsolate. Margaret had not been prepared + to hear that Mr. Ogilvie had been so constant a companion, and was struck + by finding that Ethel had passed over one who had evidently been so great + an ingredient in the delights of the expedition. Meta had, however + observed nothing—she was a great deal too simple and too much + engrossed for such notions to have crossed her mind; but Margaret inferred + something, and hoped to learn more when she should see Flora. This would + not be immediately. George and his wife were gone to London, and thence + intended to pay a round of visits; and Norman had accompanied his namesake + to Glenbracken. + </p> + <p> + Ethel fought hard with her own petulance and sense of tedium at home, + which was, as she felt, particularly uncalled for at present; when Dr. + Spencer was enlivening them so much. He was never in the way, he was + always either busy in the dining-room in the morning with books and + papers, or wandering about his old school-boy haunts in the town, or + taking Adam’s place, and driving out Dr. May, or sometimes joining the + children in a walk, to their supreme delight. His sketches, for he drew + most beautifully, were an endless pleasure to Margaret, with his + explanations of them—she even tried to sit up to copy them, and he + began to teach Blanche to draw. The evenings, when there was certain to be + some entertaining talk going on between the two doctors, were very + charming, and Margaret seemed quite revived by seeing her father so happy + with his friend. Ethel knew she ought to be happy also, and if attention + could make her so, she had it, for kind and courteous as Dr. Spencer was + to all, she seemed to have a double charm for him. It was as if he found + united in her the quaint brusquerie, that he had loved in her father, with + somewhat of her mother; for though Ethel had less personal resemblance to + Mrs. May than any other of the family, Dr. Spencer transferred to her much + of the chivalrous distant devotion, with which he had regarded her mother. + Ethel was very little conscious of it, but he was certainly her sworn + knight, and there was an eagerness in his manner of performing every + little service for her, a deference in his way of listening to her, over + and above his ordinary polish of manner. + </p> + <p> + Ethel lighted up, and enjoyed herself when talking was going on—her + periods of ennui were when she had to set about any home employment—when + Aubrey’s lessons did not go well—when she wanted to speak to her + father, and could not catch him; and even when she had to go to Cocksmoor. + </p> + <p> + She did not seem to make any progress there—the room was very full, + and very close, the children were dull, and she began to believe she was + doing no good—it was all a weariness. But she was so heartily + ashamed of her feelings, that she worked the more vehemently for them, and + the utmost show that they outwardly made was, that Margaret thought her + less vivacious than her wont, and she was a little too peremptory at times + with Mary and Blanche. She had so much disliked the display that Flora had + made about Cocksmoor, that she had imposed total silence on it upon her + younger sisters, and Dr. Spencer had spent a fortnight at Stoneborough + without being aware of their occupation; when there occurred such an + extremely sultry day, that Margaret remonstrated with Ethel on her + intention of broiling herself and Mary by walking to Cocksmoor, when the + quicksilver stood at 80° in the shade. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was much inclined to stay at home, but she did not know whether this + was from heat or from idleness, and her fretted spirits took the turn of + determination—so she posted off at a galloping pace, that her + brothers called her “Cocksmoor speed,” and Mary panted by her side, humbly + petitioning for the plantation path, when she answered “that it was as + well to be hot in the sun as in the shade.” + </p> + <p> + The school-room was unusually full, all the haymaking mothers made it + serve as an infant school, and though as much window was opened as there + could be, the effect was not coolness. Nevertheless, Ethel sat down and + gathered her class round her, and she had just heard the chapter once + read, when there was a little confusion, a frightened cry of “Ethel!” and + before she could rise to her feet—a flump upon the floor—poor + Mary had absolutely fainted dead away. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was much terrified, and very angry with herself; Mary was no light + weight, but Mrs. Elwood coming at their cry, helped Ethel to drag her into + the outer room, where she soon began to recover, and to be excessively + puzzled as to what had happened to her. She said the sea was roaring, and + where was Harry? and then she looked much surprised to find herself lying + on Mrs. Elwood’s damp flags—a circumstance extremely distressing to + Mrs. Elwood, who wanted to carry her upstairs into Cherry’s room, very + clean and very white, but with such a sun shining full into it! + </p> + <p> + Ethel lavished all care, and reproached herself greatly, though to be sure + nothing had ever been supposed capable of hurting Mary, and Mary herself + protested that nothing at all had ailed her till the children’s voices + began to sound funny, and turned into the waves of the sea, and therewith + poor Mary burst into a great flood of tears, and asked whether Harry would + ever come back. The tears did her a great deal of good, though not so much + as the being petted by Ethel, and she soon declared herself perfectly + well; but Ethel could not think of letting her walk home, and sent off a + boy—who she trusted would not faint—with a note to Margaret, + desiring her to send the gig, which fortunately was at home to-day. + </p> + <p> + Mary had partaken of some of Mrs. Elwood’s tea, which, though extremely + bitter, seemed a great cordial, and was sitting, quite revived, in the + arbour at the door, when the gig stopped, and Dr. Spencer walked in. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and how are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite well now, thank you. Was Margaret frightened? Why did you come?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it would make her happier, as your father was not at home. + Here, let me feel your pulse. Do you think no one is a doctor but your + papa? There’s not much the matter with you, however. Where is Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “In the school,” and Mary opened the door. Dr. Spencer looked in, as Ethel + came out, and his face put her in mind of Norman’s look. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder!” was all he said. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was soon satisfied that he did not think Mary ill. In fact, he said + fainting was the most natural and justifiable measure, under the + circumstances. “How many human creatures do you keep there?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Forty-seven to-day,” said Mary proudly. + </p> + <p> + “I shall indict you for cruelty to animals! I think I have known it hotter + at Poonshedagore, but there we had punkahs!” + </p> + <p> + “It was very wrong of me,” said Ethel. “I should have thought of poor + Mary, in that sunny walk, but Mary never complains.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind,” said Mary, “it did not hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not thinking of Mary,” said Dr. Spencer, “but of the wretched beings + you are leaving shut up there. I wonder what the mercury would be there.” + </p> + <p> + “We cannot help it,” said Mary. “We cannot get the ground.” + </p> + <p> + And Mary, having been voted into the seat of honour and comfort by his + side in the carriage, told her version of Cocksmoor and the Committee; + while Ethel sat up in the little narrow seat behind, severely reproaching + herself for her want of consideration towards one so good and patient as + Mary, who proved to have been suffering far more on Harry’s account than + they had guessed, and who was so simple and thorough-going in doing her + duty. This was not being a good elder sister, and, when they came home, + she confessed it, and showed so much remorse that poor Mary was quite + shocked, and cried so bitterly that it was necessary to quit the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, dearest,” said Margaret that night, after they were in bed, “is + there anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nothing, but that Oxford has spoiled me,” said Ethel, resolutely. “I + am very cross and selfish!” + </p> + <p> + “It will be better by-and-by,” said Margaret, “if only you are sure you + have nothing to make you unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Ethel. She was becoming too much ashamed of her fancy to + breathe one word about it, and she had spoken the truth. Pleasure had + spoiled her. + </p> + <p> + “If only we could do something for Cocksmoor!” she sighed, presently, + “with that one hundred and fifty pounds lying idle.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was very glad that her thoughts were taking this channel, but it + was not a promising one, for there seemed to be nothing practicable, + present or future. The ground could not be had—the pig would not get + over the stile—the old woman could not get home to-night. Cocksmoor + must put up with its present school, and Mary must not be walked to death. + </p> + <p> + Or, as Ethel drew her own moral, sacrifice must not be selfish. One great + resolution that has been costly, must not blunt us in the daily details of + life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, Chapels had + been Churches, and poor men’s cottages, princes’ palaces. + MERCHANT OF VENICE. +</pre> + <p> + “Dick,” said Dr. Spencer, as the friends sat together in the evening, + after Mary’s swoon, “you seem to have found an expedient for making havoc + among your daughters.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not hurt them,” said Dr. May carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, after the specimen of to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “That was chance.” + </p> + <p> + “If you like it, I have no more to say; but I should like to make you sit + for two hours in such a temperature. If they were mine—” + </p> + <p> + “Very fine talking, but I would not take the responsibility of hindering + the only pains that have ever been taken with that unlucky place. You + don’t know that girl Ethel. She began at fifteen, entirely of her own + accord, and has never faltered. If any of the children there are saved + from perdition, it is owing to her, and I am not going to be the man to + stop her. They are strong, healthy girls, and I cannot see that it does + them any harm—rather good.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any special predilection for a room eight feet by nine?” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t be helped. What would you have said if you had seen the last?” + </p> + <p> + “What is this about one hundred and fifty pounds in hand?” + </p> + <p> + “The ladies here chose to have a fancy fair, the only result of which, + hitherto, has been the taking away my Flora. There is the money, but the + land can’t be had.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Tied up between the Drydale Estate and —— College, and in the + hands of the quarry master, Nicolson. There was an application made to the + College, but they did not begin at the right end.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, Dick, you take it easy!” cried his friend, rather + indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “I own I have not stirred in the matter,” said Dr. May. “I knew nothing + would come to good under the pack of silly women that our schools are + ridden with—” and, as he heard a sound a little like “pish!” he + continued, “and that old Ramsden, it is absolutely useless to work with + such a head—or no head. There’s nothing for it but to wait for + better times, instead of setting up independent, insubordinate action.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the man to leave venerable abuses undisturbed!” + </p> + <p> + “The cure is worse than the disease!” + </p> + <p> + “There spoke the Corporation!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it was not the way you set to work in Poonshedagore.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, really, when the venerable abuses consisted of Hindoos praying to + their own three-legged stools, and keeping sacred monkeys in honour of the + ape Hanyuman, it was a question whether one could be a Christian oneself, + and suffer it undisturbed. It was coming it too strong, when I was + requested to lend my own step-ladder for the convenience of an exhibition + of a devotee swinging on hooks in his sides.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer had, in fact, never rested till he had established a mission + in his former remote station; and his brown godson, once a Brahmin, now an + exemplary clergyman, traced his conversion to the friendship and example + of the English physician. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have lashed about me at abuses, in my time,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you have, Dick!” and they both laughed—the inconsiderate + way was so well delineated. + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” replied Dr. May; “and I made enemies enough to fetter me now. I + do not mean that I have done right—I have not; but there is a good + deal on my hands, and I don’t write easily. I have been slower to take up + new matters than I ought to have been.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, I see!” said Dr. Spencer, rather sorry for his implied reproach, + “but must Cocksmoor be left to its fate, and your gallant daughter to + hers?” + </p> + <p> + “The vicar won’t stir. He is indolent enough by nature, and worse with + gout; and I do not see what good I could do. I once offended the tenant, + Nicolson, by fining him for cheating his unhappy labourers, on the + abominable truck system; and he had rather poison me than do anything to + oblige me. And, as to the copyholder, he is a fine gentleman, who never + comes near the place, nor does anything for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry Walkinghame.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry Walkinghame! I know the man. I found him in one of the caves at + Thebes, among the mummies, laid up with a fever, nearly ready to be a + mummy himself! I remember bleeding him—irregular, was not it? but + one does not stand on ceremony in Pharaoh’s tomb. I got him through with + it; we came up the Nile together, and the last I saw of him was at + Alexandria. He is your man! something might be done with him!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe Flora promises to ask him if she should ever meet him in + London, but he is always away. If ever we should be happy enough to get an + active incumbent, we shall have a chance.” + </p> + <p> + Two days after, Ethel came down equipped for Cocksmoor. It was as hot as + ever, and Mary was ordered to stay at home, being somewhat pacified by a + promise that she should go again as soon as the weather was fit for + anything but a salamander. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer was in the hall, with his bamboo, his great Panama hat, and + gray loose coat, for he entirely avoided, except on Sundays, the medical + suit of black. He offered to relieve Ethel of her bag of books. + </p> + <p> + “No thank you.” (He had them by this time). “But I am going to Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you allow me to be your companion?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be very glad of the pleasure of your company, but I am not in the + least afraid of going alone,” said she, smiling, however, so as to show + she was glad of such pleasant company. “I forewarn you though that I have + business there.” + </p> + <p> + “I will find occupation.” + </p> + <p> + “And you must promise not to turn against me. I have undergone a great + deal already about that place. Norman was always preaching against it, and + now that he has become reasonable, I can’t have papa set against it again—besides, + he would mind you more.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer promised to do nothing but what was quite reasonable. Ethel + believed that he accompanied her merely because his gallantry would not + suffer her to go unescorted, and she was not sorry, for it was too long a + walk for solitude to be very agreeable, when strange wagoners might be on + the road, though she had never let them be “lions in the path.” + </p> + <p> + The walk was as pleasant as a scorching sun would allow, and by the time + they arrived at the scattered cottages, Ethel had been drawn into + explaining many of her Cocksmoor perplexities. + </p> + <p> + “If you could get the land granted, where should you choose to have it?” + he asked. “You know it will not do to go and say, ‘Be pleased to give me a + piece of land,’ without specifying what, or you might chance to have one + at the Land’s End.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, that was one of the blunders,” said Ethel. “But I had often + thought of this nice little square place, between two gardens, and + sheltered by the old quarry.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! hardly space enough, I should say,” replied Dr. Spencer, stepping it + out. “No, that won’t do, so confined by the quarry. Let us look farther.” + </p> + <p> + A surmise crossed Ethel. Could he be going to take the work on himself, + but that was too wild a supposition—she knew he had nothing of his + own, only a moderate pension from the East India Company. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of this?” he said, coming to the slope of a knoll, + commanding a pretty view of the Abbotstoke woods, clear from houses, and + yet not remote from the hamlet. She agreed that it would do well, and he + kicked up a bit of turf, and pryed into the soil, pronouncing it dry, and + fit for a good foundation. Then he began to step it out, making a circuit + that amazed her, but he said, “It is of no use to do it at twice. Your + school can be only the first step towards a church, and you had better + have room—enough at once. It will serve as an endowment in the + meantime.” + </p> + <p> + He would not let her remain in the sun, and she went into school. She + found him, when she came out, sitting in the arbour smoking a cigar-rather + a shock to her feelings, though he threw it away the instant she appeared, + and she excused him for his foreign habits. + </p> + <p> + In the evening, he brought down a traveller’s case of instruments, and + proceeded to draw a beautiful little map of Cocksmoor, where it seemed + that he had taken all his measurements, whilst she was in school. He ended + by an imaginary plan and elevation for the school, with a pretty oriel + window and bell-gable, that made Ethel sigh with delight at the bare idea. + </p> + <p> + Next day, he vanished after dinner, but this he often did; he used to say + he must go and have a holiday of smoking—he could not bear too much + civilised society. He came back for tea, however, and had not sat down + long before he said, “Now, I know all about it. I shall pack up my goods, + and be off for Vienna to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “To Vienna!” was the general and dolorous outcry, and Gertrude laid hold + of him and said he should not go. + </p> + <p> + “I am coming back,” he said, “if you will have me. The college holds a + court at Fordholm on the 3rd, and on the last of this month, I hope to + return.” + </p> + <p> + “College! Court! What are you going to do at Vienna? Where have you left + your senses?” asked Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “I find Sir Henry Walkinghame is there. I have been on an exploring + expedition to Drydale, found out his man of business, and where he is to + be written to. The college holds a court at Fordholm, and I hope to have + our business settled.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was too much confounded to speak. Her father was exclaiming on the + shortness of the time. + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of time,” said Dr. Spencer, demonstrating that he should be able + to travel comfortably, and have four days to spare at Vienna—a + journey which he seemed to think less of, than did Dr. May of going to + London. + </p> + <p> + As to checking him, of that there was no possibility, nor, indeed, notion, + though Ethel did not quite know how to believe in it, nor that the plan + could come to good. Ethel was much better by this time: by her vigorous + efforts, she had recovered her tone of mind and interest in what was + passing; and though now and then Norman’s letters, carrying sentences of + remembrance, made her glow a little, she was so steady to her resolution + that she averted all traffic in messages through her brother’s + correspondence, and, in that fear, allowed it to lapse into Margaret’s + hands more than she had ever done. Indeed, no one greatly liked writing + from home, it was heartless work to say always, “No news from the + Alcestis” and yet they all declared they were not anxious. + </p> + <p> + Hector Ernescliffe knelt a great while beside Margaret’s sofa, on the + first evening of his holidays, and there was a long low-voiced talk + between them. Ethel wished that she had warned him off, for Margaret + looked much more harassed and anxious, after having heard the outpouring + of all that was on his mind. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer thought her looking worse, when he came, as come he did, on + the appointed day. He had brought Sir Henry Walkinghame’s full consent to + the surrender of the land; drawn up in such form as could be acted upon, + and a letter to his man of business. But Nicolson! He was a worse dragon + nearer home, hating all schools, especially hating Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + However, said Dr. Spencer, in eastern form, “Have I encountered Rajahs, + and smoked pipes with three-tailed Pachas, that I should dread the face of + the father of quarrymen.” + </p> + <p> + What he did with the father of quarrymen was not known, whether he talked + him over, or bought him off—Margaret hoped the former; Dr. May + feared the latter; the results were certain; Mr. Nicolson had agreed that + the land should be given up. + </p> + <p> + The triumphant Dr. Spencer sat down to write a statement to be shown to + the college authorities, when they should come to hold their court. + </p> + <p> + “The land must be put into the hands of trustees,” he said. “The incumbent + of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Then yourself; and we must have another. Your son-in-law?” + </p> + <p> + “You, I should think,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “I! Why, I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “Going, but not gone,” said his friend. + </p> + <p> + “I must go! I tell you, Dick; I must have a place of my own to smoke my + pipe in.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” said Dr. May. “I think you might be accommodated here, + unless you wished to be near your sister.” + </p> + <p> + “My sister is always resorting to watering-places. My nieces do nothing + but play on the piano. No, I shall perhaps go off to America, the only + place I have not seen yet, and I more than half engaged to go and help at + Poonshedagore.” + </p> + <p> + “Better order your coffin then,” muttered Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “I shall try lodgings in London, near the old hospital, perhaps—and + go and turn over the British Museum library.” + </p> + <p> + “Look you here, Spencer, I have a much better plan. Do you know that scrap + of a house of mine, by the back gate, just big enough for you and your + pipe? Set up your staff there. Ethel will never get her school built + without you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that would be capital!” cried Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “It would be the best speculation for me. You would pay rent, and the last + old woman never did,” continued Dr. May. “A garden the length of this one—” + </p> + <p> + “But I say—I want to be near the British Museum.” + </p> + <p> + “Take a season-ticket, and run up once a week.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall teach your boys to smoke!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll see to that!” + </p> + <p> + “You have given Cocksmoor one lift,” said Ethel, “and it will never go on + without you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is such a nice house!” added the children, in chorus; “it would be + such fun to have you there.” + </p> + <p> + “Daisy will never be able to spare her other doctor,” said Margaret, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Run to Mrs. Adams, Tom, and get the key,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + There was a putting on of hats and bonnets, and the whole party walked + down the garden to inspect the house—a matter of curiosity to some—for + it was where the old lady had resided on whom Harry had played so many + tricks, and the subject of many myths hatched between him and George + Larkins. + </p> + <p> + It was an odd, little narrow slip of a house, four stories, of two rooms + all the way up, each with a large window, with a marked white eyebrow. Dr. + May eagerly pointed out all the conveniences, parlour, museum, smoking + den, while Dr. Spencer listened, and answered doubtfully; and the + children’s clamorous anxiety seemed to render him the more silent. + </p> + <p> + Hector Ernescliffe discovered a jackdaw’s nest in the chimney, whereupon + the whole train rushed off to investigate, leaving the two doctors and + Ethel standing together in the empty parlour, Dr. May pressing, Dr. + Spencer raising desultory objections; but so evidently against his own + wishes, that Ethel said, “Now, indeed, you must not disappoint us all.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Dr. May, “it is a settled thing.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, thanks, thanks to you all, but it cannot be. Let me go;” and he + spoke with emotion. “You are very kind, but it is not to be thought of.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said Dr. May. “Spencer, stay with me;” and he spoke with a + pleading, almost dependent air. “Why should you go?” + </p> + <p> + “It is of no use to talk about it. You are very kind, but it will not do + to encumber you with a lone man, growing old.” + </p> + <p> + “We have been young together,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “And you must not leave papa,” added Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Dr. May. “Trouble may be at hand. Help us through with it. + Remember, these children have no uncles.” + </p> + <p> + “You will stay?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + He made a sign of assent—he could do no more, and just then Gertrude + came trotting back, so exceedingly smutty, as to call everybody’s + attention. Hector had been shoving Tom half-way up the chimney, in hopes + of reaching the nest; and the consequences of this amateur + chimney-sweeping had been a plentiful bespattering of all the spectators + with soot, that so greatly distressed the young ladies, that Mary and + Blanche had fled away from public view. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer’s first act of possession was to threaten to pull Tom down by + the heels for disturbing his jackdaws, whereupon there was a general + acclamation; and Dr. May began to talk of marauding times, when the + jackdaws in the Minster tower had been harried. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Dr. Spencer, as Tom emerged, blacker than the outraged + jackdaws, and half choked, “what do you know about jackdaws’ nests? You + that are no Whichcote scholars.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t we?” cried Hector, “when there is a jackdaw’s nest in Eton Chapel, + twenty feet high.” + </p> + <p> + “Old Grey made that!” said Tom, who usually acted the part of esprit fort + to Hector’s credulity. + </p> + <p> + “Why, there is a picture of it on Jesse’s book,” said Hector. + </p> + <p> + “But may not we get up on the roof, to see if we can get at the nest, + papa?” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “You must ask Dr. Spencer. It is his house.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer did not gainsay it, and proceeded even to show the old + Whichcote spirit, by leading the assault, and promising to take care of + Aubrey, while Ethel retained Gertrude, and her father too; for Dr. May had + such a great inclination to scramble up the ladder after them, that she, + thinking it a dangerous experiment for so helpless an arm, was obliged to + assure him that it would create a sensation among the gossiphood of + Stoneborough, if their physician were seen disporting himself on the top + of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I’m not a physician unattached, like him,” said Dr. May, laughing. + “Hullo! have you got up, Tom? There’s a door up there. I’ll show you—” + </p> + <p> + “No, don’t papa. Think of Mrs. Ledwich; and asking her to see two trustees + up there!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Mrs. Ledwich; what is to be done with her, Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I can’t tell. If Flora were but at home, she would manage it.” + </p> + <p> + “Spencer can manage anything!” was the answer. “That was the happiest + chance imaginable that you came home with me, and so we came to go by the + same train.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was only afraid that time was being cruelly wasted; but the best + men, and it is emphatically the best that generally are so—have the + boy strong enough on one side or other of their natures, to be a great + provocation to womankind; and Dr. Spencer did not rest from his pursuit + till the brood of the jackdaws had been discovered, and two gray-headed + nestlings kidnapped, which were destined to a wicker cage and education. + Little Aubrey was beyond measure proud, and was suggesting all sorts of + outrageous classical names for them, till politely told by Tom that he + would make them as great prigs as himself, and that their names should be + nothing but Jack and Jill. + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing for it but for Aubrey to go to school,” cried Tom, + sententiously turning round to Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, to Stoneborough,” said Dr. Spencer. + </p> + <p> + Tom coloured, as if sorry for his movement, and hastened away to make + himself sufficiently clean to go in quest of a prison for his captives. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer began to bethink him of the paper that he had been so eagerly + drawing up, and looking at his own begrimed hands, asked Ethel whether she + would have him for a trustee. + </p> + <p> + “Will the other eight ladies?” said Ethel, “that’s the point.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, Spencer! you did not know what you were undertaking. Do you wish to + be let off?” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “Not I,” said the undaunted doctor. “Come, Ethel, let us hear what should + be done.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no time,” said Ethel, bewildered. “The court will be only on the + day after to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Ample time!” said Dr. Spencer, who seemed ready to throw himself into it + with all his might. “What we have to do is this. The ladies to be + propitiated are—” + </p> + <p> + “Nine Muses, to whom you will have to act Apollo,” said Dr. May, who, + having put his friend into the situation, had a mischievous delight in + laughing at him, and watching what he would do. + </p> + <p> + “One and two, Ethel, and Mrs. Rivers!” + </p> + <p> + “Rather eight and nine,” said Ethel, “though Flora may be somebody now.” + </p> + <p> + “Seven then,” said Dr. Spencer. “Well then, Ethel, suppose we set out on + our travels this afternoon. Visit these ladies, get them to call a meeting + to-morrow, and sanction their three trustees.” + </p> + <p> + “You little know what a work it is to call a meeting, or how many notes + Miss Rich sends out before one can be accomplished.” + </p> + <p> + “Faint heart—you know the proverb, Ethel. Allons. I’ll call on Mrs. + Ledwich—” + </p> + <p> + “Stay,” said Dr. May. “Let Ethel do that, and ask her to tea, and we will + show her your drawing of the school.” + </p> + <p> + So the remaining ladies were divided—Ethel was to visit Miss + Anderson, Miss Boulder, and Mrs. Ledwich; Dr. Spencer, the rest, and a + meeting, if possible, be appointed for the next day. + </p> + <p> + Ethel did as she was told, though rather against the grain, and her short, + abrupt manner was excused the more readily, that Dr. Spencer had been a + subject of much mysterious speculation in Stoneborough, and to gain any + intelligence respecting him, was a great object; so that she was extremely + welcome wherever she called. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ledwich promised to come to tea, and instantly prepared to walk to + Miss Rich, and authorise her to send out the notes of summons to the + morrow’s meeting. Ethel offered to walk with her, and found Mrs. and Miss + Rich in a flutter, after Dr. Spencer’s call; the daughter just going to + put on her bonnet and consult Mrs. Ledwich, and both extremely enchanted + with Dr. Spencer, who “would be such an acquisition.” + </p> + <p> + The hour was fixed and the notes sent out, and Ethel met Dr. Spencer at + the garden gate. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he said, smiling, “I think we have fixed them off—have not + we?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but is it not heartless that everything should be done through so + much nonsense?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear why the spire of Ulm Cathedral was never finished?” + said Dr. Spencer. + </p> + <p> + “No; why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the citizens would accept no help from their neighbours.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad enough of help when it comes in the right way, and from good + motives.” + </p> + <p> + “There are more good motives in the world than you give people credit for, + Ethel. You have a good father, good sense, and a good education; and you + have some perception of the system by which things like this should be + done. Unfortunately, the system is in bad hands here, and these good + ladies have been left to work for themselves, and it is no wonder that + there is plenty of little self-importance, nonsense, and the like, among + them; but for their own sakes we should rather show them the way, than + throw them overboard.” + </p> + <p> + “If they will be shown,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say they seemed to me so very formidable,” said Dr. Spencer. + “Gentle little women.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is only Mrs. Ledwich that stirs them up. I hope you are prepared + for that encounter.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ledwich came to tea, sparkling with black bugles, and was very + patronising and amiable. Her visits were generally subjects of great + dread, for she talked unceasingly, laid down the law, and overwhelmed + Margaret with remedies; but to-night Dr. Spencer took her in hand. It was + not that he went out of his ordinary self, he was always the same + simple-mannered, polished gentleman; but it was this that told—she + was evidently somewhat in awe of him—the refinement kept her in + check. She behaved very quietly all the evening, admired the plans, + consented to everything, and was scarcely Mrs. Ledwich! + </p> + <p> + “You will get on now, Ethel,” said Dr. May afterwards. “Never fear but + that he will get the Ladies’ Committee well in hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think so, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Never you fear.” + </p> + <p> + That was all she could extract from him, though he looked very arch. The + Ladies’ Committee accepted of their representatives with full consent; and + the indefatigable Dr. Spencer next had to hunt up the fellow trustee. He + finally contrived to collect every one he wanted at Fordholm, the case was + laid before the College—the College was propitious, and by four + o’clock in the evening, Dr. Spencer laid before Ethel the promise of the + piece of land. + </p> + <p> + Mary’s joy was unbounded, and Ethel blushed, and tried to thank. This + would have been the summit of felicity a year ago, and she was vexed with + herself for feeling that though land and money were both in such safe + hands, she could not care sufficiently to feel the ecstasy the attainment + of her object would once have given to her. Then she would have been + frantic with excitement, and heedless of everything; now she took it so + composedly as to annoy herself. + </p> + <p> + “To think of that one week at Oxford having so entirely turned this head + of mine!” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was the less at home, because she had just heard that George + and Flora had accepted an invitation to Glenbracken, but though the zest + of Cocksmoor might be somewhat gone, she called herself to order, and gave + her full attention to all that was planned by her champion. + </p> + <p> + Never did man plunge into business more thoroughly than he, when he had + once undertaken it. He was one of those men who, from gathering + particulars of every practical matter that comes under their notice, are + able to accomplish well whatever they set their hand to; and building was + not new to him, though his former subjects—a church and mission + station in India—bore little remembrance to the present. + </p> + <p> + He bought a little round dumpling of a white pony, and trotted all over + the country in search of building materials and builders, he discovered + trees in distant timber-yards, he brought home specimens of stone, one in + each pocket, to compare and analyse, he went to London to look at model + schools, he drew plans each more neat and beautiful than the last, he + compared builders’ estimates, and wrote letters to the National Society, + so as to be able to begin in the spring. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime he was settling himself, furnishing his new house with + great precision and taste. He would have no assistance in his choice, + either of servants or furniture, but made numerous journeys of inspection + to Whitford, to Malvern, and to London, and these seemed to make him the + more content with Stoneborough. Sir Matthew Fleet had evidently chilled + him, and as he found his own few remaining relations uncongenial, he + became the more ready to find a resting-place in the gray old town, the + scene of his school life, beside the friend of his youth, and the children + of her, for whose sake he had never sought a home of his own. Though he + now and then talked of seeing America, or of going back to India, in hopes + of assisting his beloved mission at Poonshedagore, these plans were fast + dying away, as he formed habits and attachments, and perceived the sphere + of usefulness open to him. + </p> + <p> + It was a great step when his packages arrived, and his beautiful Indian + curiosities were arranged, making his drawing-room as pretty a room as + could anywhere be seen; in readiness, as he used to tell Ethel, for a + grand tea-party for all the Ladies’ Committee, when he should borrow her + and the best silver teapot to preside. Moreover, he had a chemical + apparatus, a telescope, and microscope, of great power, wherewith he tried + experiments that were the height of felicity to Tom and Ethel, and much + interested their father. He made it his business to have full occupation + for himself, with plans, books, or correspondence, so as not to be a + charge on the hands of the May family, with whom he never spent an evening + without special and earnest invitation. + </p> + <p> + He gave attendance at the hospital on alternate days, as well as taking + off Dr. May’s hands such of his gratuitous patients as were not averse to + quit their old doctor, and could believe in a physician in shepherd’s + plaid, and Panama hat. Exceedingly sociable, he soon visited every one far + and wide, and went to every sort of party, from the grand dinners of the + “county families,” to the tea-drinkings of the Stoneborough ladies—a + welcome guest at all, and enjoying each in his own way. English life was + so new to him that he entered into the little accessories with the zest of + a youth; and there seemed to be a curious change between the two old + fellow students, the elder and more staid of former days having come back + with unencumbered freshness to enliven his friend, just beginning to grow + aged under the wear of care and sorrows. + </p> + <p> + It was very droll to hear Dr. May laughing at Dr. Spencer’s histories of + his adventures, and at the new aspects in which his own well-trodden + district appeared to travelled eyes; and not less amusing was Dr. + Spencer’s resolute defence of all the nine muses, generally and + individually. + </p> + <p> + He certainly had no reason to think ill of them. As one woman, they were + led by him, and conformed their opinions. The only seceder was Louisa + Anderson, who had her brother for her oracle; and, indeed, the more + youthful race, to whom Harvey was the glass of fashion, uttered + disrespectful opinions as to the doctor’s age, and would not accede to his + being, as Mrs. Ledwich declared, “much younger than Dr. May.” + </p> + <p> + Harvey Anderson had first attempted patronage, then argument, with Dr. + Spencer, but found him equally impervious to both. “Very clever, but an + old world man,” said Harvey. “He has made up his bundle of prejudices.” + </p> + <p> + “Clever sort of lad!” said Dr. Spencer, “a cool hand, but very shallow—” + </p> + <p> + Ethel wondered to hear thus lightly disposed of, the powers of argument + that had been thought fairly able to compete with Norman, and which had + taxed him so severely. She did not know how differently abstract questions + appear to a mature mind, confirmed in principle by practice; and to one + young, struggling in self-formation, and more used to theories than to + realities. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The heart may ache, but may not burst; + Heaven will not leave thee, nor forsake. + Christian Year. +</pre> + <p> + Hector and Tom finished their holidays by a morning’s shooting at the + Grange, Dr. May promising to meet them, and let them drive him home. + </p> + <p> + Meta was out when he arrived; and, repairing to the library, he found Mr. + Rivers sitting by a fire, though it was early in September, with the + newspaper before him, but not reading. He looked depressed, and seemed + much disappointed at having heard that George and Flora had accepted some + further invitations in Scotland, and did not intend to return for another + month. Dr. May spoke cheerfully of the hospitality and kindness they had + met, but failed to enliven him, and, as if trying to assign some cause for + his vexation, he lamented over fogs and frosts, and began to dread an + October in Scotland for Flora, almost as if it were the Arctic regions. + </p> + <p> + He grew somewhat more animated in praising Flora, and speaking of the + great satisfaction he had in seeing his son married to so admirable a + person. He only wished it could be the same with his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “You are a very unselfish father,” said Dr. May. “I cannot imagine you + without your little fairy.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be hard to part,” said Mr. Rivers, sighing; “yet I should be + relieved to see her in good hands, so pretty and engaging as she is, and + something of an heiress. With our dear Flora, she is secure of a happy + home when I am gone, but still I should be glad to have seen—” and + he broke off thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “She is so sensible, that we shall see her make a good choice,” said Dr. + May, smiling; “that is, if she choose at all, for I do not know who is + worthy of her.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite indifferent as to fortune,” continued Mr. Rivers. “She will + have enough of her own.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough not to be dependent, which is the point,” said Dr. May, “though I + should have few fears for her any way.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a comfort,” harped on Mr. Rivers, dwelling on the subject, as + if he wanted to say something, “if she were only safe with a man who knew + how to value her and make her happy. Such a young man as your Norman, now—I + have often thought—” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May would not seem to hear, but he could not prevent himself from + blushing as crimson as if he had been the very Norman, as he answered, + going on with his own speech, as if Mr. Rivers’s had been unmade, “She is + the brightest little creature under the sun, and the sparkle is down so + deep within, that however it may turn out, I should never fear for her + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Flora is my great reliance,” proceeded Mr. Rivers. “Her aunt, Lady + Leonora, is very kind, but somehow she does not seem to suit with Meta.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ho,” thought the doctor, “have you made that discovery, my good + friend?” + </p> + <p> + The voices of the two boys were heard in the hall, explaining their + achievements to Meta, and Dr. May took his departure, Hector driving him, + and embarking in a long discourse on his own affairs as if he had quite + forgotten that the doctor was not his father, and going on emphatically, + in spite of the absence of mind now and then betrayed by his auditor, who, + at Dr. Spencer’s door, exclaimed, “Stop, Hector, let me out here—thank + you;” and presently brought out his friend into the garden, and sat down + on the grass, talking low and earnestly over the disease with which Mr. + Rivers had been so long affected; for though Dr. May could not perceive + any positively unfavourable symptom, he had been rendered vaguely uneasy + by the unusual heaviness and depression of manner. So long did they sit + conversing, that Blanche was sent out, primed with an impertinent message, + that two such old doctors ought to be ashamed of themselves for sitting so + late in the dew. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer was dragged in to drink tea, and the meal had just been + merrily concluded, when the door bell rang, and a message was brought in. + “The carriage from the Grange, sir; Miss Rivers would be much obliged if + you would come directly.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Dr. May, looking at Dr. Spencer, as if to say, I told you + so, in the first triumph of professional sagacity; but the next moment + exclaiming, “Poor little Meta!” he hurried away. + </p> + <p> + A gloom fell on those who remained, for, besides their sympathy for Meta, + and their liking for her kind old father, there was that one + unacknowledged heartache, which, though in general bravely combated, lay + in wait always ready to prey on them. Hector stole round to sit by + Margaret, and Dr. Spencer muttered, “This will never do,” and sent Tom to + fetch some papers lying on his table, whence he read them some curious + accounts that he had just received from his missionary friends in India. + </p> + <p> + They were interested, but in a listening mood, that caused a universal + start when the bell again sounded. This time, James reported that the + servant from the Grange said his master was very ill—he had brought + a letter to post for Mr. George Rivers, and here was a note for Miss + Ethel. It was the only note Ethel had ever received from her father, and + contained these few words: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR E.—, + </p> + <p> + “I believe this attack will be the last. Come to Meta, and bring my + things. R. M.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel put her hands to her forehead. It was as if she had been again + plunged into the stunned dream of misery of four years ago, and her + sensation was of equal bewilderment and uselessness; but it was but for a + moment—the next she was in a state of over-bustle and eagerness. She + wanted to fly about and hasten to help Meta, and could hardly obey the + word and gesture by which Margaret summoned her to her side. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Ethel, you must calm yourself, or you will not be of use.” + </p> + <p> + “I? I can’t be of any use! Oh, if you could go! If Flora were but here! + But I must go, Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “I will put up your father’s things,” said Dr. Spencer, in a soothing + tone. “The carriage cannot be ready in a moment, so that there will be + full time.” + </p> + <p> + Mary and Miss Bracy prepared Ethel’s own goods, which she would otherwise + have forgotten; and Margaret, meanwhile, detained her by her side, trying + to calm and encourage her with gentle words of counsel, that might hinder + her from giving way to the flurry of emotion that had seized her, and + prevent her from thinking herself certain to be useless. + </p> + <p> + Adams was to drive her thither in the gig, and it presently came to the + door. Dr. Spencer wrapped her up well in cloaks and shawls, and spoke + words of kindly cheer in her ear as she set off. The fresh night air blew + pleasantly on her, the stars glimmered in full glory overhead, and now and + then her eye was caught by the rocket-like track of a shooting-star. Orion + was rising slowly far in the east, and bringing to her mind the sailor-boy + under the southern sky; if, indeed, he were not where sun and stars no + more are the light. It was strange that the thought came more as soothing + than as acute pain; she could bear to think of him thus in her present + frame, as long as she had not to talk of him. Under those solemn stars, + the life everlasting seemed to overpower the sense of this mortal life, + and Ethel’s agitation was calmed away. + </p> + <p> + The old cedar-tree stood up in stately blackness against the sky, and the + lights in the house glanced behind it. The servants looked rather + surprised to see Ethel, as if she were not expected, and conducted her to + the great drawing-room, which looked the more desolate and solitary, from + the glare of lamplight, falling on the empty seats which Ethel had lately + seen filled with a glad home party. She was looking round, thinking + whether to venture up to Meta’s room, and there summon Bellairs, when Meta + came gliding in, and threw her arms round her. Ethel could not speak, but + Meta’s voice was more cheerful than she had expected. “How kind of you, + dear Ethel!” + </p> + <p> + “Papa sent for me,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “He is so kind! Can Margaret spare you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; but you must leave me. You must want to be with him.” + </p> + <p> + “He never lets me come in when he has these attacks,” said Meta. “If he + only would! But will you come up to my room? That is nearer.” + </p> + <p> + “Is papa with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Meta wound her arms round Ethel, and led her up to her sitting-room, where + a book lay on the table. She said that her father had seemed weary and + torpid, and had sat still until almost their late dinner-hour, when he + seemed to bethink himself of dressing, and had risen. She thought he + walked weakly, and rather tottering, and had run to make him lean on her, + which he did, as far as his own room door. There he had kissed her, and + thanked her, and murmured a word like blessing. She had not, however, been + alarmed, until his servant had come to tell her that he had another + seizure. + </p> + <p> + Ethel asked whether she had seen Dr. May since he had been with her + father. She had; but Ethel was surprised to find that she had not taken in + the extent of his fears. She had become so far accustomed to these + attacks, that, though anxious and distressed, she did not apprehend more + than a few days’ weakness, and her chief longing was to be of use. She was + speaking cheerfully of beginning her nursing to-morrow, and of her great + desire that her papa would allow her to sit up with him, when there was a + slow, reluctant movement of the lock of the door, and the two girls sprang + to their feet, as Dr. May opened it; and Ethel read his countenance at + once. + </p> + <p> + Not so Meta. “How is he? May I go to him?” cried she. + </p> + <p> + “Not now, my dear,” said Dr. May, putting his hand on her shoulder, in a + gentle, detaining manner, that sent a thrill of trembling through her + frame, though she did not otherwise move. She only clasped her hands + together, and looked up into his face. He answered the look. “Yes, my + dear, the struggle is over.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel came near, and put her arm round Meta’s waist, as if to strengthen + her, as she stood quite passive and still. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May seemed to think it best that all should be told; but, though + intently watching Meta, he directed his words to his own daughter. “Thank + Heaven, it has been shorter, and less painful, than I had dared to hope.” + </p> + <p> + Meta tried to speak, but could not bring out the words, and, with an + imploring look at Ethel, as if to beg her to make them clear for her, she + inarticulately murmured, “Oh! why did you not call me?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not. He would not let me. His last conscious word to me was not + to let you see him suffer.” + </p> + <p> + Meta wrung her clasped hands together in mute anguish. Dr. May signed to + Ethel to guide her back to the sofa, but the movement seemed so far to + rouse her, that she said, “I should like to go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Right—the best thing,” said Dr. May; and he whispered to Ethel, “Go + with her, but don’t try to rouse her—don’t talk to her. Come back to + me, presently.” + </p> + <p> + He did not even shake hands with Meta, nor wish her good-night, as she + disappeared into her own room. + </p> + <p> + Bellairs undressed her, and Ethel stood watching, till the young head, + under the load of sorrow, so new to it, was laid on the pillow. Bellairs + asked her if she would have a light. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, thank you—the dark and alone. Good-night,” said Meta. Ethel + went back to the sitting-room, where her father was standing at the + window, looking out into the night. He turned as she came in, folded her + in his arms, and kissed her forehead. “And how is the poor little dear?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The same,” said Ethel. “I can’t bear to leave her alone, and to have said + nothing to comfort her.” + </p> + <p> + “It is too soon as yet,” said Dr. May—“her mind has not taken it in. + I hope she will sleep all night, and have more strength to look at it when + she wakens.” + </p> + <p> + “She was utterly unprepared.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not make her understand me,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “And, oh, papa, what a pity she was not there!” + </p> + <p> + “It was no sight for her, till the last few minutes; and his whole mind + seemed bent on sparing her. What tenderness it has been.” + </p> + <p> + “Must we leave her to herself all night?” + </p> + <p> + “Better so,” said Dr. May. “She has been used to loneliness; and to thrust + companionship on her would be only harassing.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel, who scarcely knew what it was to be alone, looked as if she did not + understand. + </p> + <p> + “I used to try to force consolation on people,” said Dr. May, “but I know, + now, that it can only be done by following their bent.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen so many sorrows,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I never understood till I felt,” said Dr. May. “Those few first days were + a lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not think you knew what was passing,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt whether any part of my life is more distinctly before me than + those two days,” said Dr. May. “Flora coming in and out, and poor Alan + sitting by me; but I don’t believe I had any will. I could no more have + moved my mind than my broken arm; and I verily think, Ethel, that, but for + that merciful torpor, I should have been frantic. It taught me never to + disturb grief.” + </p> + <p> + “And what shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + “You must stay with her till Flora comes. I will be here as much as I can. + She is our charge, till they come home. I told him, between the spasms, + that I had sent for you, and he seemed pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “If only I were anybody else!” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May again threw his arm round her, and looked into her face. He felt + that he had rather have her, such as she was, than anybody else; and, + together, they sat down, and talked of what was to be done, and what was + best for Meta, and of the solemnity of being in the house of death. Ethel + felt and showed it so much, in her subdued, awe-struck manner, that her + father felt checked whenever he was about to return to his ordinary + manner, familiarised, as he necessarily was, with the like scenes. It drew + him back to the thought of their own trouble, and their conversation + recurred to those days, so that each gained a more full understanding of + the other, and they at length separated, certainly with the more peaceful + and soft feelings for being in the abode of mourning. + </p> + <p> + Bellairs promised to call Ethel, to be with her young lady as early as + might be, reporting that she was sound asleep. And sleep continued to + shield her till past her usual hour, so that Ethel was up, and had been + with Dr. May, before she was summoned to her, and then she found her half + dressed, and hastening that she might not make Dr. May late for breakfast, + and in going to his patients. There was an elasticity in the happily + constituted young mind that could not be entirely struck down, nor + deprived of power of taking thought for others. Yet her eyes looked + wandering, and unlike themselves, and her words, now and then, faltered, + as if she was not sure what she was doing or saying. Ethel told her not to + mind—Dr. Spencer would take care of the patients; but she did not + seem to recollect, at first, who Dr. Spencer was, nor to care for being + reminded. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast was laid out in the little sitting-room. Ethel wanted to take + the trouble off her hands, but she would not let her. She sat behind her + urn, and asked about tea or coffee, quite accurately, in a low, subdued + voice, that nearly overcame Dr. May. When the meal was over, and she had + rung the bell, and risen up, as if to her daily work, she turned round, + with that piteous, perplexed air, and stood for a moment, as if confused. + </p> + <p> + “Cannot we help you?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Thank you. But, Dr. May, I must not keep you from other + people—” + </p> + <p> + “I have no one to go to this morning,” said Dr. May. “I am ready to stay + with you, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Meta came closer to him, and murmured, “Thank you!” + </p> + <p> + The breakfast things had, by this time, been taken away, and Meta, looking + to see that the door had shut for the last time, said, in a low voice, + “Now tell me—” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May drew her down to sit on the sofa beside him, and, in his soft, + sweet voice, told her all that she wished to learn of her father’s last + hours, and was glad to see showers of quiet, wholesome tears drop freely + down, but without violence, and she scarcely attempted to speak. There was + a pause at the end, and then she said gently, “Thank you, for it all. Dear + papa!” And she rose up, and went back to her room. + </p> + <p> + “She has learned to dwell apart,” said Dr. May, much moved. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful she bears up!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “It has been a life which, as she has used it, has taught her strength and + self-dependence in the midst of prosperity.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel, “she has trained herself by her dread of + self-indulgence, and seeking after work. But oh! what a break up it is for + her! I cannot think how she holds up. Shall I go to her?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not. She knows the way to the only Comforter. I am not afraid of + her after those blessed tears.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May was right; Meta presently returned to them, in the same gentle + subdued sadness, enfolding her, indeed, as a flower weighed down by mist, + but not crushing nor taking away her powers. It was as if she were truly + upheld; and thankful to her friends as she was, she did not throw herself + on them in utter dependence or self-abandonment. + </p> + <p> + She wrote needful letters, shedding many tears over them, and often + obliged to leave off to give the blinding weeping its course, but refusing + to impose any unnecessary task upon Dr. May’s lame arm. All that was + right, she strove to do; she saw Mr. Charles Wilmot, and was refreshed by + his reading to her; and when Dr. May desired it, she submissively put on + her bonnet, and took several turns with Ethel in the shrubbery, though it + made her cry heartily to look into the downstairs rooms. And she lay on + the sofa at last, owning herself strangely tired, she did not know why, + and glad that Ethel should read to her. By and by, she went to dress for + the evening, and came back, full of the tidings that one of the children + in the village had been badly burned. It occupied her very much—she + made Ethel promise to go and see about her to-morrow, and sent Bellairs at + once with every comfort that she could devise. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, those two days were to Ethel a peaceful and comfortable + time. She saw more than usual of her father, and had such conversations + with him as were seldom practicable at home, and that chimed in with the + unavowed care which hung on their minds; while Meta was a most sweet and + loving charge, without being a burden, and often saying such beautiful + things in her affectionate resignation, that Ethel could only admire and + lay them up in her mind. Dr. May went backwards and forwards, and brought + good accounts of Margaret and fond messages; he slept at the Grange each + night, and Meta used to sit in the corner of the sofa and work, or not, as + best suited her, while she listened to his talk with Ethel, and now and + then herself joined. + </p> + <p> + George Rivers’s absence was a serious inconvenience in all arrangements; + but his sister dreaded his grief as much as she wished for his return; and + often were the posts and the journeys reckoned over, without a + satisfactory conclusion, as to when he could arrive from so remote a part + of Scotland. + </p> + <p> + At last, as the two girls had finished their early dinner, the butler + brought in word that Mr. Norman May was there. Meta at once begged that he + would come in, and Ethel went into the hall to meet him. He looked very + wan, with the dark rings round his eyes a deeper purple than ever, and he + could hardly find utterance to ask, “How is she?” + </p> + <p> + “As good and sweet as she can be,” said Ethel warmly; but no more, for + Meta herself had come to the dining-room door, and was holding out her + hand. Norman took it in both his, but could not speak; Meta’s own soft + voice was the first. “I thought you would come—he was so fond of + you.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Norman quite gave way, and Meta was the one to speak gentle words of + soothing. “There is so much to be thankful for,” she said. “He has been + spared so much of the suffering Dr. May feared for him; and he was so + happy about George.” + </p> + <p> + Norman made a great effort to recover himself. Ethel asked for Flora and + George. It appeared that they had been on an excursion when the first + letter arrived at Glenbracken, and thus had received both together in the + evening, on their return. George had been greatly overcome, and they had + wished to set off instantly; but Lady Glenbracken would not hear of + Flora’s travelling night and day, and it had at length been arranged that + Norman Ogilvie should drive Norman across the country that evening, to + catch the mail for Edinburgh, and he had been on the road ever since. + George was following with his wife more slowly, and would be at home + to-morrow evening. Meantime, he sent full authority to his father-in-law + to make arrangements. + </p> + <p> + Ethel went to see the burned child, leaving Meta to take her walk in the + garden under Norman’s charge. He waited on her with a sort of distant + reverence for a form of grief, so unlike what he had dreaded for her, when + the first shock of the tidings had brought back to him the shattered + bewildered feelings to which he dared not recur. + </p> + <p> + To dwell on the details was, to her, a comfort, knowing his sympathy and + the affection there had been between him and her father; nor had they + parted in such absolute brightness, as to make them unprepared for such a + meeting as the present. The cloud of suspense was brooding lower and lower + over the May family, and the need of faith and submission was as great + with them as with the young orphan herself. Norman said little, but that + little was so deep and fervent, that after a time Meta could not help + saying, when Ethel was seen in the distance, and their talk was nearly + over, “Oh, Norman, these things are no mirage!” + </p> + <p> + “It is the world that is the mirage,” he answered. Ethel came up, and Dr. + May also, in good time for the post. He was obliged to become very busy, + using Norman for his secretary, till he saw his son’s eyes so heavy, that + he remembered the two nights that he had been up, and ordered him to go + home and go to bed as soon as tea was over. + </p> + <p> + “May I come back to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—yes—I think you may. No, no,” he added, recollecting + himself, “I think you had better not,” and he did not relent, though + Norman looked disappointed. + </p> + <p> + Meta had already expressed her belief that her father would be buried at + the suburban church, where lay her mother; and Dr. May, having been + desired to seek out the will and open it, found it was so; and fixed the + day and hour with Meta, who was as submissive and reasonable as possible, + though much grieved that he thought she could not be present. + </p> + <p> + Ethel, after going with Meta to her room at night, returned as usual to + talk matters over with him, and again say how good Meta was. + </p> + <p> + “And I think Norman’s coming did her a great deal of good,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! yes,” said the doctor thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “She thinks so much of Mr. Rivers having been fond of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the doctor, “he was. I find, in glancing over the will, which + was newly made on Flora’s marriage, that he has remembered Norman—left + him £100 and his portfolio of prints by Raffaelle.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he, indeed?—how very kind, how much Norman will value it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is remarkable,” said Dr. May; and then, as if he could not help it, + told Ethel what Mr. Rivers had said of his wishes with regard to his + daughter. Ethel blushed and smiled, and looked so much touched and + delighted, that he grew alarmed and said, “You know, Ethel, this must be + as if it never had been mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + “What! you will not tell Norman?” + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly not, unless I see strong cause. They are very fond of each + other, certainly, but they don’t know, and I don’t know, whether it is not + like brother and sister. I would not have either of them guess at this, or + feel bound in any way. Why, Ethel, she has thirty thousand pounds, and I + don’t know how much more.” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty thousand!” said Ethel, her tone one of astonishment, while his had + been almost of objection. + </p> + <p> + “It would open a great prospect,” continued Dr. May complacently; “with + Norman’s talents, and such a lift as that, he might be one of the first + men in England, provided he had nerve and hardness enough, which I doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “He would not care for it,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “No; but the field of usefulness; but what an old fool I am, after all my + resolutions not to be ambitious for that boy; to be set a-going by such a + thing as this! Still Norman is something out of the common way. I wonder + what Spencer thinks of him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you never mean them to hear of it?” + </p> + <p> + “If they settle it for themselves,” said Dr. May, “that sanction will come + in to give double value to mine; or if I should see poor Norman hesitating + as to the inequality, I might smooth the way; but you see, Ethel, this + puts us in a most delicate situation towards this pretty little creature. + What her father wanted was only to guard her from fortune-hunters, and if + she should marry suitably elsewhere—why, we will be contented.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I should be,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “She is the most winning of humming-birds, and what we see of her now, + gives one double confidence in her. She is so far from the petted, + helpless girl that he, poor man, would fain have made her! And she has a + bright, brave temper and elastic spirits that would be the very thing for + him, poor boy, with that morbid sensitiveness—he would not hurt her, + and she would brighten him. It would be a very pretty thing—but we + must never think about it again.” + </p> + <p> + “If we can help it,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I am sorry I have put it into your head too. We shall not so easily + be unconscious now, when they talk about each other in the innocent way + they do. We have had a lesson against being pleased at match-making!” But, + turning away from the subject, “You shall not lose your Cocksmoor income, + Ethel—” + </p> + <p> + “I had never thought of that. You have taken no fees here since we have + been all one family.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he has been good enough to leave me £500, and Cocksmoor can have + the interest, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only its due, for I suppose that is for attendance. Personally, to + myself, he has left that beautiful Claude which he knew I admired so much. + He has been very kind! But, after all, we ought not to be talking of all + this—I should not have known it, if I had not been forced to read + the will. Well, so we are in Flora’s house, Ethel! I wonder how poor dear + little Meta will feel the being a guest here, instead of the mistress. I + wish that boy were three or four years older! I should like to take her + straight home with us—I should like to have her for a daughter. I + shall always look on her as one.” + </p> + <p> + “As a Daisy!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk of it!” said Dr. May hastily; “this is no time for such + things. After all, I am glad that the funeral is not here—Flora and + Meta might be rather overwhelmed with these three incongruous sets of + relations. By their letters, those Riverses must be quite as queer a lot + as George’s relations. After all, if we have nothing else, Ethel, we have + the best of it, in regard to such relations as we have.” + </p> + <p> + “There is Lord Cosham,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is Meta’s guardian, as well as her brother; but he could not have + her to live with him. She must depend upon Flora. But we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel felt confident that Flora would be very kind to her little + sister-in-law, and yet one of those gleams of doubt crossed her, whether + Flora would not be somewhat jealous of her own authority. + </p> + <p> + Late the next evening, the carriage drove to the door, and George and + Flora appeared in the hall. Their sisters went out to meet them, and + George folded Meta in his arms, and kissing her again and again, called + her his poor dear little sister, and wept bitterly, and even violently. + Flora stood beside Ethel, and said, in a low voice, that poor George felt + it dreadfully; and then came forward, touched him gently, and told him + that he must not overset Meta; and, drawing her from him, kissed her, and + said what a grievous time this had been for her, and how sorry they had + been to leave her so long, but they knew she was in the best hands. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should have been so sorry you had been over-tired. I was quite + well off,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “And you must look on us as your home,” added Flora. + </p> + <p> + “How can she?” thought Ethel. “This is taking possession, and making Meta + a guest already!” + </p> + <p> + However, Meta did not seem so to feel it—she replied by caresses, + and turned again to her brother. Poor George was by far the most struck + down of all the mourners, and his whole demeanour gave his new relations a + much warmer feeling towards him than they could ever have hoped to + entertain. His gentle refined father had softly impressed his duller + nature; and his want of attention and many extravagances came back upon + him acutely now, in his changed home. He could hardly bear to look at his + little orphan sister, and lavished every mark of fondness upon her; nor + could he endure to sit at the bottom of his table; but when they had gone + in to dinner, he turned away from the chair and hid his face. He was + almost like a child in his want of self-restraint; and with all Dr. May’s + kind soothing manner, he could not bring him to attend to any of the + necessary questions as to arrangements, and was obliged to refer to Flora, + whose composed good sense was never at fault. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was surprised to find that it would be a great distress to Meta to + part with her until the funeral was over, though she would hardly express + a wish lest Ethel should be needed at home. As soon as Flora perceived + this, she begged her sister to stay, and again Ethel felt unpleasantly + that Meta might have seen, if she had chosen, that Flora took the + invitation upon herself. + </p> + <p> + So, while Dr. May, with George, Norman, and Tom, went to London, she + remained, though not exactly knowing what good she was doing, unless by + making the numbers rather less scanty; but both sisters declared her to be + the greatest comfort possible; and when Meta shut herself up in her own + room, where she had long learned to seek strength in still communing with + her own heart, Flora seemed to find it a relief to call her sister to + hers, and talk over ordinary subjects, in a tone that struck on Ethel’s + ear as a little incongruous—but then Flora had not been here from + the first, and the impression could not be as strong. She was very kind, + and her manner, when with others, was perfect, from its complete absence + of affectation; but, alone with Ethel, there was a little complacency + sometimes betrayed, and some curiosity whether her father had read the + will. Ethel allowed what she had heard of the contents to be extracted + from her, and it certainly did not diminish Flora’s secret satisfaction in + being ‘somebody’. + </p> + <p> + She told the whole history of her visits; first, how cordial Lady Leonora + Langdale had been, and then, how happy she had been at Glenbracken. The + old Lord and Lady, and Marjorie, all equally charming in their various + ways; and Norman Ogilvie so good a son, and so highly thought of in his + own country. + </p> + <p> + “Did I tell you, Ethel, that he desired to be remembered to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you said so.” + </p> + <p> + “What has Coralie done with it?” continued Flora, seeking in her + dressing-case. “She must have put it away with my brooches. Oh, no, here + it is. I had been looking for Cairngorm specimens in a shop, saying I + wanted a brooch that you would wear, when Norman Ogilvie came riding after + the carriage, looking quite hot and eager. He had been to some other + place, and hunted this one up. Is it not a beauty?” + </p> + <p> + It was one of the round Bruce brooches, of dark pebble, with a silver + fern-leaf lying across it, the dots of small Cairngorm stones. “The + Glenbracken badge, you know,” continued Flora. + </p> + <p> + Ethel twisted it about in her fingers, and said, “Was not it meant for + you?” + </p> + <p> + “It was to oblige me, if you choose so to regard it,” said Flora, smiling. + “He gave me no injunctions; but, you see, you must wear it now. I shall + not wear coloured brooches for a year.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel sighed. She felt as if her black dress ought, perhaps, to be worn + for a nearer cause. She had a great desire to keep that Glenbracken + brooch; and surely it could not be wrong. To refuse it would be much + worse, and would only lead to Flora’s keeping it, and not caring for it. + </p> + <p> + “Then it is your present, Flora?” + </p> + <p> + “If you like better to call it so, my dear. I find Norman Ogilvie is going + abroad in a few months. I think we ought to ask him here on his way.” + </p> + <p> + “Flora, I wish you would not talk about such things!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really and truly, Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, at such a time as this,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + Flora was checked a little, and sat down to write to Marjorie Ogilvie. + “Shall I say you like the brooch, Ethel?” she asked presently. + </p> + <p> + “Say what is proper,” said Ethel impatiently. “You know what I mean, in + the fullest sense of the word.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I?” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” said Ethel, “that you may say, simply and rationally, that I + like the thing, but I won’t have it said as a message, or that I take it + as his present.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Flora, “the whole affair is simple enough, if you would + not be so conscious, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Flora, I can’t stand your calling me my dear!” + </p> + <p> + “I am very much obliged to you,” said Flora, laughing, more than she would + have liked to be seen, but recalled by her sister’s look. Ethel was sorry + at once. + </p> + <p> + “Flora, I beg your pardon; I did not mean to be cross, only please don’t + begin about that; indeed, I think you had better leave out about the + brooch altogether. No one will wonder at your passing it over in such a + return as this.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Flora thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Ethel carried the brooch to her own room, and tried to keep herself from + speculating what had been Mr. Ogllvie’s views in procuring it, and whether + he remembered showing her, at Woodstock, which sort of fern was his badge, + and how she had abstained from preserving the piece shut up in her + guide-book. + </p> + <p> + Meta’s patient sorrow was the best remedy for proneness to such musings. + How happy poor little Meta had been! The three sisters sat together that + long day, and Ethel read to the others, and by and by went to walk in the + garden with them, till, as Flora was going in, Meta asked, “Do you think + it would be wrong for me to cross the park to see that little burned girl, + as Mr. Wilmot is away to-day, and she has no one to go to her?” + </p> + <p> + Flora could see no reason against it, and Meta and Ethel left the garden, + and traversed the green park, in its quiet home beauty, not talking much, + except that Meta said, “Well! I think there is quite as much sweetness as + sadness in this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Because of this calm autumn sunset beauty?” said Ethel. “Look at the + golden light coming in under the branches of the trees.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Meta, “one cannot help thinking how much more beautiful it + must be—” + </p> + <p> + The two girls said no more, and came to the cottage, where so much + gratitude was expressed at seeing Miss Rivers, that it was almost too much + for her. She left Ethel to talk, and only said a few soft little words to + her sick scholar, who seemed to want her voice and smile to convince her + that the small mournful face, under all that black crape, belonged to her + own dear bright teacher. + </p> + <p> + “It is odd,” said Meta, as they went back; “it is seeing other people that + makes one know it is all sad and altered—it seems so bewildering, + though they are so kind.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what you mean,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “One ought not to wish it to go on, because there are other people and + other duties,” said Meta, “but quietness is so peaceful. Do you know, + Ethel, I shall always think of those two first days, before anybody came, + with you and Dr. May, as something very—very—precious,” she + said at last, with the tears rising. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I shall,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know how it is, but there is something even in this affliction + that makes it like—a strange sort of happiness,” said Meta musingly. + </p> + <p> + “I know what it is!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “That He is so very good?” said Meta reverently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ethel, almost rebuked for the first thought, namely, that it + was because Meta was so very good. + </p> + <p> + “It does make one feel more confidence,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is good for me to have been in trouble,’” repeated Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Meta. “I hope it is not wrong or unkind in me to feel it, for + I think dear papa would wish it; but I do not feel as if—miss him + always as I shall—the spring of life were gone from me. I don’t + think it can, for I know no more pain or trouble can reach him, and there + is—don’t you think, Ethel, that I may think so?—especial care + for the orphan, like a compensation. And there is hope, and work here. And + I am very thankful! How much worse it would have been, if George had not + been married! Dear Flora! Will you tell her, Ethel, how really I do wish + her to take the command of me? Tell her it will be the greatest kindness + in the world to make me useful to her.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “And please tell her that I am afraid I may forget, and take upon me, as + if I were still lady of the house. Tell her I do not mean it, and I hope + that she will check it.” + </p> + <p> + “I think there is no fear of her forgetting that,” said Ethel, regretting + the words before they were out of her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I shall not,” said Meta. “If I do, I shall drive myself away to + stay with Aunt Leonora, and I don’t want to do that at all. So please to + make Flora understand that she is head, and I am ready to be hand and + foot;” and Meta’s bright smile shone out, with the pleasure of a fresh and + loving service. + </p> + <p> + Ethel understood the force of her father’s words, that it was a brave, + vigorous spirit. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May came back with George, and stayed to dinner, after which he talked + over business with Flora, whose sagacity continually amazed him, and who + undertook to make her husband understand, and do what was needed. + </p> + <p> + Meta meanwhile cross-questioned her brother on the pretty village by the + Thames, of which she had a fond, childish remembrance, and heard from him + of the numerous kind messages from all her relations. There were various + invitations, but George repeated them unwillingly. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t go, Meta,” he said. “It would be a horrid nuisance to part with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “As long as you think so, dear George. When I am in your way, or Flora’s—” + </p> + <p> + “That will never be! I say, Flora, will she ever be in our way?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed! Meta and I understand that,” said Flora, looking up. “Well, I + suppose Bruce can’t be trusted to value the books and prints.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May thought it a great relief that Meta had a home with Flora, for, as + he said to Ethel as they went home together, “Certainly, except Lord + Cosham, I never saw such an unpresentable crew as their relations. You + should have heard the boys afterwards! There was Master Tom turning up his + Eton nose at them, and pronouncing that there never were such a set of + snobs, and Norman taking him to task as I never heard him do before—telling + him that he would never have urged his going to Eton, if he had thought it + would make him despise respectable folks, probably better than himself, + and that this was the last time in the world for such observations—whereat + poor Tommy was quite annihilated; for a word from Norman goes further with + him than a lecture from any one else.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think Norman was right as to the unfitness of the time.” + </p> + <p> + “So he was. But we had a good deal of them, waiting in the inn parlour. + People make incongruities when they will have such things done in state. + It could not be helped here, to be sure; but I always feel, at a grand + undertaker’s display like this, that, except the service itself, there is + little to give peace or soothing. I hate what makes a talk! Better be + little folk.” + </p> + <p> + “One would rather think of our own dear cloister, and those who cared so + much,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you were happy to be there!” said Dr. May. “But it all comes to the + same.” Pausing, he looked from the window, then signed to Ethel to do the + same—Orion glittered in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “One may sleep sound without the lullaby,” said Dr. May, “and the waves—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t, papa. You don’t give up hope!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe we ought, Ethel. Don’t tell her, but I went to the Admirality + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you hear there?” + </p> + <p> + “Great cause for fear—but they do not give up. My poor Margaret! But + those stars tell us they are in the same Hand.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Shall I sit alone in my chamber, + And set the chairs by the wall, + While you sit with lords and princes, + Yet have not a thought at all? + + Shall I sit alone in my chamber, + And duly the table lay, + Whilst you stand up in the diet, + And have not a word to say?—Old Danish Ballad. +</pre> + <p> + “Oh, Norman, are you come already?” exclaimed Margaret, as her brother + opened the door, bringing in with him the crisp breath of December. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I came away directly after collections. How are you, Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty brave, thank you;” but the brother and sister both read on each + other’s features that the additional three months of suspense had told. + There were traces of toil and study on Norman’s brow; the sunken look + about his eyes, and the dejected outline of his cheek, Margaret knew + betokened discouragement; and though her mild serenity was not changed, + she was almost transparently thin and pale. They had long ago left off + asking whether there were tidings, and seldom was the subject adverted to, + though the whole family seemed to be living beneath a dark shadow. + </p> + <p> + “How is Flora?” he next asked. + </p> + <p> + “Going on beautifully, except that papa thinks she does too much in every + way. She declares that she shall bring the baby to show me in another + week, but I don’t think it will be allowed.” + </p> + <p> + “And the little lady prospers?” + </p> + <p> + “Capitally, though I get rather contradictory reports of her. First, papa + declared her something surpassing—exactly like Flora, and so I + suppose she is; but Ethel and Meta will say nothing for her beauty, and + Blanche calls her a fright. But papa is her devoted admirer—he does + so enjoy having a sort of property again in a baby!” + </p> + <p> + “And George Rivers?” said Norman, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Poor George! he is very proud of her in his own way. He has just been + here with a note from Flora, and actually talked! Between her and the + election, he is wonderfully brilliant.” + </p> + <p> + “The election? Has Mr. Esdaile resigned?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you not heard? He intends it, and George himself is going to stand. + The only danger is that Sir Henry Walkinghame should think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Rivers in Parliament! Well, sound men are wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Fancy Flora, our member’s wife. How well she will become her position.” + </p> + <p> + “How soon is it likely to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Quickly, I fancy. Dr. Spencer, who knows all kinds of news (papa says he + makes a scientific study of gossip, as a new branch of comparative + anatomy), found out from the Clevelands that Mr. Esdaile meant to retire, + and happened to mention it the last time that Flora came to see me. It was + like firing a train. You would have wondered to see how it excited her, + who usually shows her feelings so little. She has been so much occupied + with it, and so anxious that George should be ready to take the field at + once, that papa was afraid of its hurting her, and Ethel comes home + declaring that the election is more to her than her baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel is apt to be a little hard on Flora. They are too unlike to + understand each other.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel is to be godmother though, and Flora means to ask Mr. Ogilvie to + come and stand.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he will be gone abroad, or I should have asked him to fulfil his + old promise of coming to us.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he must be lodged here, if he should come. Flora will have her + house full, for Lady Leonora is coming. The baby is to be called after + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” exclaimed Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I thought it unnecessary, as she is not George’s aunt, but Flora is + grateful to her for much kindness, and she is coming to see Meta. I am + afraid papa is a little hurt, that any name but one should have been + chosen.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Meta been comfortable?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear little thing! Every one says how beautifully she has behaved. She + brought all her housekeeping books to Flora at once, and only begged to be + made helpful in whatever way might be most convenient. She explained, what + we never knew before, how she had the young maids in to read with her, and + asked leave to go on. Very few could have been set aside so simply and + sweetly in their own house.” + </p> + <p> + “Flora was sensible of it, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. She took the management of course, but Meta is charmed with her + having the girls in from the village, in turn, to help in the scullery. + They have begun family prayers too, and George makes the stablemen go to + church—a matter which had been past Meta, as you may guess, though + she had been a wonderful little manager, and Flora owned herself quite + astonished.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder only at her being astonished.” + </p> + <p> + “Meta owned to Ethel that what had been worst of all to her was the heart + sinking, at finding herself able to choose her occupations, with no one to + accommodate them to. But she would not give way—she set up more work + for herself at the school, and has been talking of giving singing lessons + at Cocksmoor; and she forced herself to read, though it was an effort. She + has been very happy lately in nursing Flora.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Ethel there?” + </p> + <p> + “No; she is, as usual, at Cocksmoor. There are great councils about + sending Cherry to be trained for her new school.” + </p> + <p> + “Would Flora be able to see me, if I were to ride over to the Grange?” + </p> + <p> + “You may try; and, if papa is not there, I dare say she will.” + </p> + <p> + “At least, I shall see Meta, and she may judge. I want to see Rivers too, + so I will ask if the bay is to be had. Ah! you have the Claude, I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is too large for this room; but papa put it here that I might + enjoy it, and it is almost a companion. The sky improves so in the sunset + light.” + </p> + <p> + Norman was soon at Abbotstoke; and, as he drew his rein, Meta’s bright + face nodded to him from Flora’s sitting-room window; and, as he passed the + conservatory, the little person met him, with a summons, at once, to his + sister. + </p> + <p> + He found Flora on the sofa, with a table beside her, covered with notes + and papers. She was sitting up writing; and, though somewhat pale, was + very smiling and animated. + </p> + <p> + “Norman, how kind to come to me the first thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret encouraged me to try whether you would be visible.” + </p> + <p> + “They want to make a regular prisoner of me,” said Flora, laughing. “Papa + is as bad as the old nurse! But he has not been here to-day, so I have had + my own way. Did you meet George?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but Margaret said he had been with her.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he would come. We expect the second post to bring the news that + Mr. Esdaile has accepted the Chiltern Hundreds. If he found it so, he + meant to go and talk to Mr. Bramshaw; for, though he is so dull, we must + make him agent.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any danger of opposition?” + </p> + <p> + “None at all, if we are soon enough in the field. Papa’s name will secure + us, and there is no one else on the right side to come forward, so that it + is an absolute rescue of the seat.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the very moment when men of principle are most wanted,” said + Norman. “The questions of the day are no light matters; and it is an + immense point to save Stoneborough from being represented by one of the + Tomkins’ set.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so,” said Flora. “I should feel it a crime to say one word to + deter George, at a time when every effort must be made to support the + right cause. One must make sacrifices when the highest interests are at + stake.” + </p> + <p> + Flora seemed to thrive upon her sacrifice—she had never appeared + more brilliant and joyous. Her brother saw, in her, a Roman matron; and + the ambition that was inherent in his nature, began to find compensation + for being crushed, as far as regarded himself, by soaring for another. He + eagerly answered that he fully agreed with her, and that she would never + repent urging her husband to take on himself the duties incumbent on all + who had the power. + </p> + <p> + Highly gratified, she asked him to look at a copy of George’s intended + address, which was lying on the table. He approved of the tenor, but saw a + few phrases susceptible of a better point. “Give it,” she said, putting a + pen into his hand; and he began to interline and erase her fair + manuscript, talking earnestly, and working up himself and the address at + the same time, till it had grown into a composition far superior to the + merely sensible affair it had been. Eloquence and thought were now in the + language, and substance—and Flora was delighted. + </p> + <p> + “I have been very disrespectful to my niece all this time,” said Norman, + descending from the clouds of patriotism. + </p> + <p> + “I do not mean to inflict her mercilessly on her relations,” said Flora, + “but I should like you to see her. She is so like Blanche.” + </p> + <p> + The little girl was brought in, and Flora made a very pretty young mother, + as she held her in her arms, with so much graceful pride. Norman was + perfectly entranced—he had never seen his sister so charming or so + admirable, between her delight in her infant, and her self-devotion to the + good of her husband and her country—acting so wisely, and speaking + so considerately; and praising her dear Meta with so much warmth. He would + never have torn himself away, had not the nurse hinted that Mrs. Rivers + had had too much excitement and fatigue already to-day; and, besides, he + suspected that he might find Meta in the drawing-room, where he might + discuss the whole with her, and judge for himself of her state of spirits. + </p> + <p> + Flora’s next visitor was her father, who came as the twilight was + enhancing the comfortable red brightness of the fire. He was very happy in + these visits—mother and child had both prospered so well, and it was + quite a treat to be able to expend his tenderness on Flora. His little + grandchild seemed to renew his own happy days, and he delighted to take + her from her mother and fondle her. No sooner was the baby in his arms + than Flora’s hands were busy among the papers, and she begged him to ring + for lights. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” he said. “Why can’t you sit in the dark, and give yourself a + little rest?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to hear George’s address. Norman has been looking at it, and I + hope you will not think it too strong,” and she turned, so that the light + might fall on the paper. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” said Dr. May, holding out his hand for it. + </p> + <p> + “This is a rough copy, too much scratched for you to make out.” + </p> + <p> + She read it accordingly, and her father admired it exceedingly—Norman’s + touches, above all; and Flora’s reading had dovetailed all so neatly + together that no one knew where the joins were. “I will copy it fairly,” + she said, “if you will show it to Dr. Spencer, and ask whether he thinks + it too strong. Mr. Dodsley too; he would be more gratified if he saw it + first, in private, and thought himself consulted.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May was dismayed at seeing her take up her pen, make a desk of her + blotting-book, and begin her copy by firelight. + </p> + <p> + “Flora, my dear,” he said, “this must not be. Have I not told you that you + must be content to rest?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not get up till ten o’clock, and have been lying here ever since.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has this head of yours been doing? Has it been resting for ten + minutes together? Now I know what I am saying, Flora—I warn you, + that if you will not give yourself needful quiet now, you will suffer for + it by and by.” + </p> + <p> + Flora smiled, and said, “I thought I had been very good. But, what is to + be done when one’s wits will work, and there is work for them to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Is not there work enough for them here?” said Dr. May, looking at the + babe. “Your mother used to value such a retirement from care.” + </p> + <p> + Flora was silent for a minute, then said, “Mr. Esdaile should have put off + his resignation to suit me. It is an unfortunate time for the election.” + </p> + <p> + “And you can’t let the election alone?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, and smiled a negative, as if she would, but that she + was under a necessity. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, if the election cannot go on without you, it had better not go + on at all.” + </p> + <p> + She looked very much hurt, and turned away her head. + </p> + <p> + Her father was grieved. “My dear,” he added, “I know you desire to be of + use, especially to George; but do you not believe that he would rather + fail, than that you, or his child, should suffer?” + </p> + <p> + No answer. + </p> + <p> + “Does he stand by his own wish, or yours, Flora?” + </p> + <p> + “He wishes it. It is his duty,” said Flora, collecting her dignity. + </p> + <p> + “I can say no more, except to beg him not to let you exert yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, when George came home, the doctor read him a lecture on his + wife’s over-busy brain; and was listened to, as usual, with gratitude and + deference. He professed that he only wished to do what was best for her, + but she never would spare herself; and, going to her side, with his heavy, + fond solicitude, he made her promise not to hurt herself, and she laughed + and consented. + </p> + <p> + The promise was easily given, for she did not believe she was hurting + herself; and, as to giving up the election, or ceasing secretly to prompt + George, that was absolutely out of the question. What could be a greater + duty than to incite her husband to usefulness? + </p> + <p> + Moreover it was but proper to invite Meta’s aunt and cousin to see her, + and to project a few select dinners for their amusement and the + gratification of her neighbours. It was only grateful and cousinly + likewise, to ask the “Master of Glenbracken”; and as she saw the thrill of + colour on Ethel’s cheeks, at the sight of the address to the Honourable + Norman Ogilvie, she thought herself the best of sisters. She even talked + of Ogilvie as a second Christian name, but Meta observed that old Aunt + Dorothy would call it Leonorar Rogilvie Rivers, and thus averted it, + somewhat to Ethel’s satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Ethel scolded herself many times for wondering whether Mr. Ogilvie would + come. What was it to her? Suppose he should; suppose the rest. What a + predicament! How unreasonable and conceited, even to think of such a + thing, when her mind was made up. What could result, save tossings to and + fro, a passing gratification set against infinite pain, and strife with + her own heart and with her father’s unselfishness! Had he but come before + Flora’s marriage! No; Ethel hated herself for the wish that arose for the + moment. Far better he should keep away, if, perhaps, without the slightest + inclination towards her, his mere name could stir up such a tumult—all, + it might be, founded in vanity. Rebellious feelings and sense of tedium + had once been subdued—why should they be roused again? + </p> + <p> + The answer came. Norman Ogilvie was setting off for Italy, and regretted + that he could not take Abbotstoke on his way. He desired his kind + remembrances and warm Christmas wishes to all his cousins. + </p> + <p> + If Ethel breathed more freely, there was a sense that tranquillity is + uninteresting. It was, it must be confessed, a flat end to a romance, that + all the permanent present effect was a certain softening, and a degree + more attention to her appearance; and after all, this might, as Flora + averred, be ascribed to the Paris outfit having taught her to wear + clothes; as well as to that which had awakened the feminine element, and + removed that sense of not being like other women, which sometimes hangs + painfully about girls who have learned to think themselves plain or + awkward. + </p> + <p> + There were other causes why it should be a dreary winter to Ethel, under + the anxiety that strengthened by duration, and the strain of acting + cheerfulness for Margaret’s sake. Even Mary was a care. Her round rosy + childhood had worn into height and sallowness, and her languor and + indifference fretted Miss Bracy, and was hunted down by Ethel, till + Margaret convinced her that it was a case for patience and tenderness, + which, thenceforth, she heartily gave, even encountering a scene with Miss + Bracy, who was much injured by the suggestion that Mary was oppressed by + perspective. Poor Mary, no one guessed the tears nightly shed over Harry’s + photograph. + </p> + <p> + Nor could Ethel quite fathom Norman. He wore the dispirited, burdened + expression that she knew too well, but he would not, as formerly, seek + relief in confidence to her, shunning the being alone with her, and far + too much occupied to offer to walk to Cocksmoor. When the intelligence + came that good old Mr. Wilmot of Settlesham had peacefully gone to his + rest, after a short and painless illness, Tom was a good deal affected, in + his peculiar silent and ungracious fashion; but Norman did not seek to + talk over the event, and the feelings he had entertained two years ago—he + avoided the subject, and threw himself into the election matters with an + excitement foreign to his nature. + </p> + <p> + He was almost always at Abbotstoke, or attending George Rivers at the + committee-room at the Swan, talking, writing, or consulting, concocting + squibs, and perpetrating bons mots, that were the delight of friends and + the confusion of foes. Flora was delighted, George adored him, Meta’s eyes + danced whenever he came near, Dr. Spencer admired him, and Dr. Hoxton + prophesied great things of him; but Ethel did not feel as if he were the + veritable Norman, and had an undefined sensation of discomfort, when she + heard his brilliant repartees, and the laughter with which he accompanied + them, so unlike his natural rare and noiseless laugh. She knew it was + false excitement, to drive away the suspense that none dared to avow, but + which did not press on them the less heavily for being endured in silence. + Indeed, Dr. May could not help now and then giving way to outbursts of + despondency, of which his friend, Dr. Spencer, who made it his special + charge to try to lighten his troubles, was usually the kind recipient. + </p> + <p> + And though the bustle of the election was incongruous, and seemed to make + the leaden weight the more heavy, there was a compensation in the tone of + feeling that it elicited, which gave real and heartfelt pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May had undergone numerous fluctuations of popularity. He had always + been the same man, excellent in intention, though hasty in action, and + heeding neither praise nor censure; and while the main tenor of his course + never varied, making many deviations by flying to the reverse of the + wrong, most immediately before him, still his personal character gained + esteem every year; and though sometimes his merits, and sometimes his + failings, gave violent umbrage, he had steadily risen in the estimation of + his fellow-townsmen, as much as his own inconsistencies and theirs would + allow, and every now and then was the favourite with all, save with the + few who abused him for tyranny, because he prevented them from + tyrannising. + </p> + <p> + He was just now on the top of the wave, and his son-in-law had nothing to + do but to float in on the tide of his favour. The opposite faction + attempted a contest, but only rendered the triumph more complete, and gave + the gentlemen the pleasure of canvassing, and hearing, times without + number, that the constituents only wished the candidate were Dr. May + himself. His sons and daughters were full of exultation—Dr. Spencer, + much struck, rallied “Dick” on his influence—and Dr. May, the drops + of warm emotion trembling on his eyelashes, smiled, and bade his friend + see him making a church-rate. + </p> + <p> + The addresses and letters that came from the Grange were so admirable, + that Dr. May often embraced Norman’s steady opinion that George was a very + wise man. If Norman was unconscious how much he contributed to these + compositions, he knew far less how much was Flora’s. In his ardour, he + crammed them both, and conducted George when Flora could not be at his + side. George himself was a personable man, wrote a good bold hand, would + do as he was desired, and was not easily put out of countenance; he seldom + committed himself by talking; and when a speech was required, was brief, + and to the purpose. He made a very good figure, and in the glory of + victory, Ethel herself began to grow proud of him, and the children’s + great object in life was to make the jackdaws cry, “Rivers for ever!” + </p> + <p> + Flora had always declared that she would be at Stoneborough for the + nomination. No one believed her, until three days before, she presented + herself and her daughter before the astonished Margaret, who was too much + delighted to be able to scold. She had come away on her own + responsibility, and was full of triumph. To come home in this manner, + after having read “Rivers for ever!” on all the dead walls, might be + called that for which she had lived. She made no stay—she had only + come to show her child, and establish a precedent for driving out, and + Margaret had begun to believe the apparition a dream, when the others came + in, some from Cocksmoor, others from the committee-room at the Swan. + </p> + <p> + “So she brought the baby,” exclaimed Ethel. “I should have thought she + would not have taken her out before her christening.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel,” said Dr. Spencer, “permit me to make a suggestion. When relations + live in the same neighbourhood, there is no phrase to be more avoided than + ‘I should have thought—‘” + </p> + <p> + The nomination-day brought Flora, Meta, baby and all to be very quiet, as + was said; but how could that be? when every boy in the house was frantic, + and the men scarcely less so. Aubrey and Gertrude, and the two jackdaws, + each had a huge blue and orange rosette, and the two former went about + roaring “Rivers for ever!” without the least consideration for the baby, + who would have been decked in the same manner, if Ethel would have heard + of it without indignation, at her wearing any colour before her + christening white; as to Jack and Jill, though they could say their + lesson, they were too much distressed by their ornaments to do ought but + lurk in corners, and strive to peck them off. + </p> + <p> + Flora comported herself in her usual quiet way, and tried to talk of other + things, though a carnation spot in each cheek showed her anxiety and + excitement. She went with her sisters to look out from Dr. Spencer’s + windows towards the Town Hall. Her husband gave her his arm as they went + down the garden, and Ethel saw her talking earnestly to him, and pressing + his arm with her other hand to enforce her words, but if she did tutor + him, it was hardly visible, and he was very glad of whatever counsel she + gave. + </p> + <p> + She spoke not a word after the ladies were left with Aubrey, who was in + despair at not being allowed to follow Hector and Tom, but was left, as + his prematurely classical mind expressed it, like the Gaulish women with + the impedimenta in the marshes—whereas Tom had added insult to + injury, by a farewell to “Jack among the maidens.” + </p> + <p> + Meta tried to console him, by persuading him that he was their protector, + and he began to think there was need of a guard, when a mighty cheer + caused him to take refuge behind Ethel. Even when assured that it was + anything but terrific, he gravely declared that he thought Margaret would + want him, but he could not cross the garden without Meta to protect him. + </p> + <p> + She would not allow any one else to relieve her from the doughty champion, + and thereby she missed the spectacle. It might be that she did not regret + it, for though it would have been unkind to refuse to come in with her + brother and sister, her wound was still too fresh for crowds, turmoil, and + noisy rejoicing to be congenial. She did not withdraw her hand, which + Aubrey squeezed harder at each resounding shout, nor object to his + conducting her to see his museum in the dark corner of the attics, most + remote from the tumult. + </p> + <p> + The loss was not great. The others could hear nothing distinctly, and see + only a wilderness of heads; but the triumph was complete. Dr. May had been + cheered enough to satisfy even Hector; George Rivers had made a very fair + speech, and hurrahs had covered all deficiencies; Hector had shouted till + he was as hoarse as the jackdaws; the opposite candidate had never come + forward at all; Tomkins was hiding his diminished head; and the gentlemen + had nothing to report but success, and were in the highest spirits. + </p> + <p> + By and by Blanche was missing, and Ethel, going in quest of her, spied a + hem of blue merino peeping out under all the cloaks in the hall cupboard, + and found the poor little girl sobbing in such distress, that it was long + before any explanation could be extracted, but at last it was revealed—when + the door had been shut, and they stood in the dark, half stifled among the + cloaks, that George’s spirits had taken his old facetious style with + Blanche, and in the very hearing of Hector! The misery of such jokes to a + sensitive child, conscious of not comprehending their scope, is + incalculable, and Blanche having been a baby-coquette, was the more + susceptible. She hid her face again from the very sound of her own + confession, and resisted Ethel’s attempts to draw her out of the musty + cupboard, declaring that she could never see either of them again. Ethel, + in vain, assured her that George was gone to the dinner at the Swan; + nothing was effectual but being told that for her to notice what had + passed was the sure way to call Hector’s attention thereto, when she + bridled, emerged, and begged to know whether she looked as if she had been + crying. Poor child, she could never again be unconscious, but, at least, + she was rendered peculiarly afraid of a style of notice, that might + otherwise have been a temptation. + </p> + <p> + Ethel privately begged Flora to hint to George to alter his style of wit, + and the suggestion was received better than the blundering manner + deserved; Flora was too exulting to take offence, and her patronage of all + the world was as full-blown as her ladylike nature allowed. Ethel, she did + not attempt to patronise, but she promised all the sights in London to the + children, and masters to Mary and Blanche, and she perfectly overwhelmed + Miss Bracy with orphan asylums for her sisters. She would have liked + nothing better than dispersing cards, with Mrs. Rivers prominent among the + recommenders of the case. + </p> + <p> + “A fine coming-out for you, little lady,” said she to her baby, when + taking leave that evening. “If it was good luck for you to make your first + step in life upwards, what is this?” + </p> + <p> + “Excelsior?” said Ethel, and Flora smiled, well pleased, but she had not + caught half the meaning. “May it be the right excelsior” added Ethel, in a + low voice that no one heard, and she was glad they did not. They were all + triumphant, and she could not tell why she had a sense of sadness, and + thought of Flora’s story long ago, of the girl who ascended Mont Blanc, + and for what? + </p> + <p> + All she had to do at present was to listen to Miss Bracy, who was sure + that Mrs. Rivers thought Mary and Blanche were not improved, and was + afraid she was ungrateful for all the intended kindness to her sister. + </p> + <p> + Ethel had more sympathy here, for she had thought that Flora was giving + herself airs, and she laughed and said her sister was pleased to be in a + position to help her friends; and tried to turn it off, but ended by + stumbling into allowing that prosperity was apt to make people over-lavish + of offers of kindness. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Miss Ethel, you understand so perfectly. There is no one like you!” + cried Miss Bracy, attempting to kiss her hand. + </p> + <p> + If Ethel had not spoken rightly of her sister, she was sufficiently + punished. + </p> + <p> + What she did was to burst into a laugh, and exclaim, “Miss Bracy! Miss + Bracy! I can’t have you sentimental. I am the worst person in the world + for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have offended. You cannot feel with me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I can, when it is sense; but please don’t treat me like a heroine. I + am sure there is quite enough in the world that is worrying, without + picking shades of manner to pieces. It is the sure way to make an old crab + of me, and so I am going off. Only, one parting piece of advice, Miss + Bracy—read ‘Frank Fairlegh’, and put everybody out of your head.” + </p> + <p> + And, thinking she had been savage about her hand, Ethel turned back, and + kissed the little governess’s forehead, wished her goodnight, and ran + away. + </p> + <p> + She had learned that, to be rough and merry, was the best way of doing + Miss Bracy good in the end; and so she often gave herself the present pain + of knowing that she was being supposed careless and hard-hearted; but the + violent affection for her proved that the feeling did not last. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was glad to sit by the fire at bed-time, and think over the day, + outwardly so gay, inwardly so fretting and perplexing. + </p> + <p> + It was the first time that she had seen much of her little niece. She was + no great baby-handler, nor had she any of the phrases adapted to the + infant mind; but that pretty little serene blue-eyed girl had been her + chief thought all day, and she was abashed by recollecting how little she + had dwelt on her own duties as her sponsor, in the agitations excited by + the doubts about her coadjutor. + </p> + <p> + She took out her Prayer-book, and read the Service for Baptism, + recollecting the thoughts that had accompanied her youngest sister’s + orphaned christening, “The vain pomp and glory of the world, and all + covetous desires of the same.” They seemed far enough off then, and now—poor + little Leonora! + </p> + <p> + Ethel knew that she judged her sister hardly; yet she could not help + picturing to herself the future—a young lady, trained for + fashionable life, serious teaching not omitted, but right made the means + of rising in the world; taught to strive secretly, but not openly, for + admiration—a scheming for her marriage—a career like Flora’s + own. Ethel could scarcely feel that it would not be a mockery to declare, + on her behalf, that she renounced the world. But, alas! where was not the + world? Ethel blushed at having censured others, when, so lately, she had + herself been oblivious of the higher duty. She thought of the prayer, + including every Christian in holy and loving intercession—“I pray + not that Thou wouldest take them out of the world, but that Thou wouldest + keep them from the evil.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep her from the evil—that shall be my prayer for my poor little + Leonora. His grace can save her, were the surrounding evil far worse than + ever it is likely to be. The intermixture with good is the trial, and is + it not so everywhere—ever since the world and the Church have seemed + fused together? But she will soon be the child of a Father who guards His + own; and, at least, I can pray for her, and her dear mother. May I only + live better, that so I may pray better, and act better, if ever I should + have to act.” + </p> + <p> + There was a happy family gathering on the New Year’s Day, and Flora, who + had kindly felt her way with Meta, finding her not yet ready to enjoy a + public festivity for the village, added a supplement to the Christmas + beef, that a second dinner might be eaten at home, in honour of Miss + Leonora Rivers. + </p> + <p> + Lady Leonora was highly satisfied with her visit, which impressed her far + more in favour of the Abbotstoke neighbourhood than in the days of poor + old Mr. Rivers. Flora knew every one, and gave little select + dinner-parties, which, by her good management, even George, at the bottom + of the table, could not make heavy. Dr. Spencer enjoyed them greatly, and + was an unfailing resource for conversation; and as to the Hoxtons, Flora + felt herself amply repaying the kindness she had received in her young + lady days, when she walked down to the dining-room with the portly + headmaster, or saw his good lady sit serenely admiring the handsome rooms. + “A very superior person, extremely pleasing and agreeable,” was the + universal verdict on Mrs. Rivers. Lady Leonora struck up a great + friendship with her, and was delighted that she meant to take Meta to + London. The only fault that could be found with her was that she had so + many brothers; and Flora, recollecting that her ladyship mistrusted those + brothers, avoided encouraging their presence at the Grange, and took every + precaution against any opening for the suspicion that she threw them in + the way of her little sister-in-law. + </p> + <p> + Nor had Flora forgotten the Ladies’ Committee, or Cocksmoor. As to the + muses, they gave no trouble at all. Exemplary civilities about the chair + passed between the Member’s lady and Mrs. Ledwich, ending in Flora’s + insisting that priority in office should prevail, feeling that she could + well afford to yield the post of honour, since anywhere she was the + leader. She did not know how much more conformable the ladies had been + ever since they had known Dr. Spencer’s opinion; and yet he only believed + that they were grateful for good advice, and went about among them, easy, + good-natured, and utterly unconscious that for him sparkled Mrs. Ledwich’s + bugles, and for him waved every spinster’s ribbon, from Miss Rich down to + Miss Boulder. + </p> + <p> + The point carried by their united influence was Charity Elwood’s being + sent for six months’ finish at the Diocesan Training School; while a + favourite pupil-teacher from Abbotstoke took her place at Cocksmoor. Dr. + Spencer looked at the Training School, and talked Mrs. Ledwich into + magnanimous forgiveness of Mrs. Elwood. Cherry dreaded the ordeal, but she + was willing to do anything that was thought right, and likely to make her + fitter for her office. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Twas a long doubt; we never heard + Exactly how the ship went down.—ARCHER GURNEY. +</pre> + <p> + The tidings came at last, came when the heart-sickness of hope deferred + had faded into the worse heart-sickness of fear deferred, and when spirits + had been fain to rebel, and declare that they would be almost glad to part + with the hope that but kept alive despair. + </p> + <p> + The Christmas holidays had come to an end, and the home party were again + alone, when early in the forenoon, there was a tap at the drawing-room + door, and Dr. Spencer called, “Ethel, can you come and speak to me?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret started as if those gentle tones had been a thunderclap. “Go! go, + Ethel,” she said, “don’t keep me waiting.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer stood in the hall with a newspaper in his hand. Ethel said, + “Is it?” and he made a sorrowful gesture. “Both?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Both,” he repeated. “The ship burned—the boat lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel, come!” hoarsely called Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Take it,” said Dr. Spencer, putting the paper into her hand; “I will + wait.” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed. She could not speak, but kneeling down by her sister, they + read the paragraph together; Ethel, with one eye on the words, the other + on Margaret. + </p> + <p> + No doubt was left. Captain Gordon had returned, and this was his official + report. The names of the missing stood below, and the list began thus:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Lieutenant A. H. Ernescliffe. + Mr. Charles Owen, Mate. + Mr. Harry May, Midshipman. +</pre> + <p> + The Alcestis had taken fire on the 12th of April of the former year. There + had been much admirable conduct, and the intrepid coolness of Mr. + Ernescliffe was especially recorded. The boats had been put off without + loss, but they were scantily provisioned, and the nearest land was far + distant. For five days the boats kept together, then followed a night of + storms, and, when morning dawned, the second cutter, under command of Mr. + Ernescliffe, had disappeared. There could be no doubt that she had sunk, + and the captain could only record his regrets for the loss the service had + experienced in the three brave young officers and their gallant seamen. + After infinite toil and suffering, the captain, with the other boats’ + crews, had reached Tahiti, whence they had made their way home. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret, Margaret!” cried Ethel. + </p> + <p> + Margaret raised herself, and the colour came into her face. + </p> + <p> + “I did not write the letter!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What letter?” said Ethel, alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Richard prevented me. The letter that would have parted us. Now all is + well.” + </p> + <p> + “All is well, I know, if we could but feel it.” + </p> + <p> + “He never had the pain. It is unbroken!” continued Margaret, her eyes + brightening, but her breath, in long-drawn gasps that terrified Ethel into + calling Dr. Spencer. + </p> + <p> + Mary was standing before him, with bloodless face and dilated eyes; but, + as Ethel approached, she turned and rushed upstairs. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer entered the drawing-room with Ethel, who tried to read his + face as he saw Margaret—restored, as it seemed, to all her girlish + bloom, and her eyes sparkling as they were lifted up, far beyond the + present scene. Ethel had a moment’s sense that his expression was as if he + had seen a death-blow struck, but it was gone in a moment, as he gently + shook Margaret by the hand, and spoke a word of greeting, as though to + recall her. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she said, with her own grateful smile. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your father?” he asked of Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Either at the hospital, or at Mr. Ramsden’s,” said Ethel, with a ghastly + suspicion that he thought Margaret in a state to require him. + </p> + <p> + “Papa!” said Margaret. “If he were but here! But—ah! I had + forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + She turned aside her head, and hid her face. Dr. Spencer signed Ethel + nearer to him. “This is a more natural state,” he said. “Don’t be afraid + for her. I will find your father, and bring him home.” Pressing her hand + he departed. + </p> + <p> + Margaret was weeping tranquilly—Ethel knelt down beside her, without + daring at first to speak, but sending up intense mental prayers to Him, + who alone could bear her or her dear father through their affliction. Then + she ventured to take her hand, and Margaret returned the caress, but began + to blame herself for the momentary selfishness that had allowed her + brother’s loss and her father’s grief to have been forgotten in her own. + Ethel’s “oh! no! no!” did not console her for this which seemed the most + present sorrow, but the flow of tears was so gentle, that Ethel trusted + that they were a relief. Ethel herself seemed only able to watch her, and + to fear for her father, not to be able to think for herself. + </p> + <p> + The front door opened, and they heard Dr. May’s step hesitating in the + hall, as if he could not bear to come in. + </p> + <p> + “Go to him!” cried Margaret, wiping off her tears. Ethel stood a moment in + the doorway, then sprang to him, and was clasped in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “You know it?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Spencer told us. Did not you meet him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I read it at Bramshaw’s office. How—” He could not say the + words, but he looked towards the room, and wrung the hand he held. + </p> + <p> + “Quiet. Like herself. Come.” + </p> + <p> + He threw one arm round Ethel, and laid his hand on her head. “How much + there is to be thankful for!” he said, then advancing, he hung over + Margaret, calling her his own poor darling. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, you must forgive me. You said sending him to sea was giving him + up.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I. Well, Margaret, he did his duty. That is all we have to live for. + Our yellow-haired laddie made a gallant sailor, and—” + </p> + <p> + Tears choked his utterance—Margaret gently stroked his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It falls hard on you, my poor girl,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, papa,” said Margaret, “I am content and thankful. He is spared pain + and perplexity.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, I believe,” said Dr. May. “He would have been grieved not + to find you better.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to grieve for my own selfishness,” said Margaret. “I cannot help + it! I cannot be sorry the link is unbroken, and that he had not to turn to + any one else.” + </p> + <p> + “He never would!” cried Dr. May, almost angrily. + </p> + <p> + “I tried to think he ought,” said Margaret. “His life would have been too + dreary. But it is best as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be,” said the doctor. “Where are the rest, Ethel? Call them all + down.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Mary, Ethel felt as if she had neglected her! She found her hanging + over the nursery fire, alternating with old nurse in fond reminiscences of + Harry’s old days, sometimes almost laughing at his pranks, then crying + again, while Aubrey sat between them, drinking in each word. + </p> + <p> + Blanche and Gertrude came from the schoolroom, where Miss Bracy seemed to + have been occupying them, with much kindness and judgment. She came to the + door to ask Ethel anxiously for the doctor and Miss May, and looked so + affectionate and sympathising, that Ethel gave her a hearty kiss. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Miss Ethel! if you can only let me help you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Ethel with all her heart, and hurried away. Nothing was + more in favour of Miss Bracy, than that there should be a hurry. Then she + could be warm, and not morbid. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May gathered his children round him, and took out the great + Prayer-book. He read a psalm and a prayer from the Burial Service, and the + sentence for funerals at sea. Then he touched each of their heads, and, in + short broken sentences, gave thanks for those still left to him, and for + the blessed hope they could feel for those who were gone; and he prayed + that they might so follow in their footsteps, as to come to the same holy + place, and in the meantime realise the Communion of Saints. Then they said + the Lord’s Prayer, he blessed them, and they arose. + </p> + <p> + “Mary, my dear,” he said, “you have a photograph.” + </p> + <p> + She put the case into his hands, and ran away. + </p> + <p> + He went to the study, where he found Dr. Spencer awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + “I am only come to know where I shall go for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Spencer. Thank you for taking care of my poor girls.” + </p> + <p> + “They took care of themselves. They have the secret of strength.” + </p> + <p> + “They have—” He turned aside, and burst out, “Oh, Spencer! you have + been spared a great deal. If you missed a great deal of joy, you have + missed almost as much sorrow!” And, covering his face, he let his grief + have a free course. + </p> + <p> + “Dick! dear old Dick, you must bear up. Think what treasures you have + left.” + </p> + <p> + “I do. I try to do so,” said poor Dr. May; “but, Spencer, you never saw my + yellow-haired laddie, with his lion look! He was the flower of them all! + Not one of these other boys came near him in manliness, and with such a + loving heart! An hour ago, I thought any certainty would be gain, but now + I would give a lifetime to have back the hope that I might see my boy’s + face again! Oh, Spencer! this is the first time I could rejoice that his + mother is not here!” + </p> + <p> + “She would have been your comforter,” sighed his friend, as he felt his + inability to contend with such grief. + </p> + <p> + “There, I can be thankful,” Dr. May said, and he looked so. “She has had + her brave loving boy with her all this time, while we little thought—but + there are others. My poor Margaret—” + </p> + <p> + “Her patience must be blessed,” said Dr. Spencer. “I think she will be + better. Now that the suspense no longer preys on her, there will be more + rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Rest,” repeated Dr. May, supporting his head on his hand; and, looking up + dreamily—“there remaineth a rest—” + </p> + <p> + The large Bible lay beside him on the table, and Dr. Spencer thought that + he would find more rest there than in his words. Leaving him, therefore, + his friend went to undertake his day’s work, and learn, once more, in the + anxious inquiries and saddened countenances of the patients and their + friends, how great an amount of love and sympathy that Dr. May had won by + his own warmth of heart. The patients seemed to forget their complaints in + sighs for their kind doctor’s troubles; and the gouty Mayor of + Stoneborough kept Dr. Spencer half an hour to listen to his recollections + of the bright-faced boy’s droll tricks, and then to the praises of the + whole May family, and especially of the mother. + </p> + <p> + Poor Dr. Spencer! he heard her accident described so many times in the + course of the day, that his visits were one course of shrinking and + suffering; and his only satisfaction was in knowing how his friend would + be cheered by hearing of the universal feeling for him and his children. + </p> + <p> + Ethel wrote letters to her brothers; and Dr. May added a few lines, + begging Richard to come home, if only for a few days. Margaret would not + be denied writing to Hector Ernescliffe, though she cried over her letter + so much that her father could almost have taken her pen away; but she said + it did her good. + </p> + <p> + When Flora came in the afternoon, Ethel was able to leave Margaret to her, + and attend to Mary, with whom Miss Bracy’s kindness had been + inefficacious. If she was cheered for a few minutes, some association, + either with the past or the vanished future, soon set her off sobbing + again. “If I only knew where dear, dear Harry is lying,” she sobbed, “and + that it had not been very bad indeed, I could bear it better.” + </p> + <p> + The ghastly uncertainty was too terrible for Ethel to have borne to + contemplate it. She knew that it would haunt their pillows, and she was + trying to nerve herself by faith. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” she said, “that is the worst; but, after all, God willed that we + should not know. We must bear it like His good children. It makes no + differences to them now—” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Mary, trying to check her sobs. + </p> + <p> + “And, you know, we are all in the same keeping. The sea is a glorious + great pure thing, you know, that man cannot hurt or defile. It seems to + me,” said Ethel, looking up, “as if resting there was like being buried in + our baptism-tide over again, till the great new birth. It must be the next + best place to a churchyard. Anywhere, they are as safe as among the + daisies in our own cloister.” + </p> + <p> + “Say it again—what you said about the sea,” said Mary, more + comforted than if Ethel had been talking down to her. + </p> + <p> + By and by Ethel discovered that the sharpest trouble to the fond simple + girl was the deprivation of her precious photograph. It was like losing + Harry over again, to go to bed without it, though she would not for the + world seem to grudge it to her father. + </p> + <p> + Ethel found an opportunity of telling him of this distress, and it almost + made him smile. “Poor Mary,” he said, “is she so fond of it? It is rather + a libel than a likeness.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t say so to her, pray, papa. It is all the world to her. Three + strokes on paper would have been the same, if they had been called by his + name.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; a loving heart has eyes of its own, and she is a dear girl!” + </p> + <p> + He did not forget to restore the treasure with gratitude proportionate to + what the loan had cost Mary. With a trembling voice, she proffered it to + him for the whole day, and every day, if she might only have it at night; + and she even looked black when he did not accept the proposal. + </p> + <p> + “It is exactly like—” said she. + </p> + <p> + “It can’t help being so, in a certain sense,” he answered kindly, “but + after all, Mary dear, he did not pout out his chin in that way.” + </p> + <p> + Mary was somewhat mortified, but she valued her photograph more than ever, + because no one else would admire it, except Daisy, whom she had taught to + regard it with unrivalled veneration. + </p> + <p> + A letter soon arrived from Captain Gordon, giving a fuller account of the + loss of his ship, and of the conduct of his officers, speaking in the + highest terms of Alan Ernescliffe, for whom he said he mourned as for his + own son, and, with scarcely less warmth, of Harry, mentioning the high + esteem all had felt for the boy, and the good effect which the influence + of his high and truthful spirit had produced on the other youngsters, who + keenly regretted him. + </p> + <p> + Captain Gordon added that the will of the late Captain Ernescliffe had + made him guardian of his sons, and that he believed poor Alan had died + intestate. He should therefore take upon himself the charge of young + Hector, and he warmly thanked Dr. May and his family for all the kindness + that the lad had received. + </p> + <p> + Though the loss of poor Hector’s visits was regretted, it was, on the + whole, a comforting letter, and would give still more comfort in future + time. + </p> + <p> + Richard contrived to come home through Oxford and see Norman, whom he + found calm, and almost relieved by the cessation from suspense; not + inclined, as his father had feared, to drown sorrow in labour, but + regarding his grief as an additional call to devote himself to ministerial + work. In fact, the blow had fallen when he first heard the rumour of + danger, and could not recur with the same force. + </p> + <p> + Richard was surprised to find that Margaret was less cast down than he + could have dared to hope. It did not seem like an affliction to her. Her + countenance wore the same gentle smile, and she was as ready to + participate in all that passed, finding sympathy for the little pleasures + of Aubrey and Gertrude, and delighting in Flora’s baby; as well as going + over Cocksmoor politics with a clearness and accuracy that astonished him, + and asking questions about his parish and occupations, so as fully to + enjoy his short visit, which she truly called the greatest possible treat. + </p> + <p> + If it had not been for the momentary consternation that she had seen upon + Dr. Spencer’s face, Ethel would have been perfectly satisfied; but she + could not help sometimes entertaining a dim fancy that this composure came + from a sense that she was too near Alan to mourn for him. Could it be true + that her frame was more wasted, that there was less capability of + exertion, that her hours became later in the morning, and that her nights + were more wakeful? Would she fade away? Ethel longed to know what her + father thought, but she could neither bear to inspire him with the + apprehension, nor to ask Dr. Spencer’s opinion, lest she should be + confirmed in her own. + </p> + <p> + The present affliction altered Dr. May more visibly than the death of his + wife, perhaps, because there was not the same need of exertion. If he + often rose high in faith and resignation, he would also sink very low + under the sense of bereavement and disappointment. Though Richard was his + stay, and Norman his pride, there was something in Harry more congenial to + his own temper, and he could not but be bowed down by the ruin of such + bright hopes. With all his real submission, he was weak, and gave way to + outbursts of grief, for which he blamed himself as unthankful; and his + whole demeanour was so saddened and depressed, that Ethel and Dr. Spencer + consulted mournfully over him, whenever they walked to Cocksmoor together. + </p> + <p> + This was not as often as usual, though the walls of the school were + rising, for Dr. Spencer had taken a large share of his friend’s work for + the present, and both physicians were much occupied by the condition of + Mr. Ramsden who was fast sinking, and, for some weeks, seemed only kept + alive by their skill. The struggle ended at last, and his forty years’ + cure of Stoneborough was closed. It made Dr. May very sad—his + affections had tendrils for anything that he had known from boyhood; and + though he had often spoken strong words of the vicar, he now sat + sorrowfully moralising and making excuses. “People in former times had not + so high an estimate of pastoral duty—poor Mr. Ramsden had not much + education—he was already old when better times came in—he + might have done better in a less difficult parish with better laity to + support him, etc.” Yet after all, he exclaimed with one of his impatient + gestures, “Better have my Harry’s seventeen years than his sixty-seven!” + </p> + <p> + “Better improve a talent than lay it by!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Ethel. How do you know what he may have done? If he acted up to his + own standard, he did more than most of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is best,” said Ethel, “a high standard, not acted up to, or a lower + one fulfilled?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it depends on the will,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Some people are angry with those whose example would show that there is a + higher standard,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “And,” said Margaret, “some who have the high one set before them content + themselves with knowing that it cannot be fully attained, and will not + try.” + </p> + <p> + “The standard is the effect of early impression,” said Dr. May. “I should + be very sorry to think it could not be raised.” + </p> + <p> + “Faithful in a little—” said Ethel. “I suppose all good people’s + standard is always going higher.” + </p> + <p> + “As they comprehend more of absolute perfection,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The city’s golden spire it was, + When hope and health were strongest; + But now it is the churchyard grass, + We look upon the longest.—E. B. BROWNING. +</pre> + <p> + A disinclination for exertion or going into public hung upon Dr. May, but + he was obliged to rouse himself to attend the Town Council meeting, which + was held a few days after the vicar’s funeral, to decide on the next + appointment. If it had depended on himself alone, his choice would have + been Mr. Edward Wilmot, whom the death of his good old father had uprooted + from Settlesham; and the girls had much hope, but he was too much out of + spirits to be sanguine. He said that he should only hear a great deal of + offensive stuff from Tomkins the brewer; and that, in the desire to + displease nobody, the votes should settle down on some nonentity, was the + best which was likely to happen. Thus, grumbling, he set off, and his + daughters watched anxiously for his return. They saw him come through the + garden with a quick, light step, that made them augur well, and he entered + the room with the corners of his mouth turning up. “I see,” said Ethel, + “it is all right.” + </p> + <p> + “They were going to have made a very absurd choice.” + </p> + <p> + “But you prevented it? Who was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I told you Master Ritchie was turning out a popular preacher.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean that they chose Richard!” cried Margaret breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “As sure as my name is Dick May, they did, every man of them, except + Tomkins, and even he held his tongue; I did not think it of them,” said + the doctor, almost overcome; “but there is much more goodness of heart in + the world than one gives it credit for.” + </p> + <p> + And good Dr. May was not one to give the least credit for all that was + like himself. + </p> + <p> + “But it was Richard’s own doing,” he continued. “Those sermons made a + great impression, and they love the boy, because he has grown up among + them. The old mayor waddled up to me, as I came in, telling me that they + had been talking it over, and they were unanimously agreed that they could + not have a parson they should like better than Mr. Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Good old Mr. Doddesley! I can see him!” cried Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I expected it so little, that I thought he meant some Richards; but no, + he said Mr. Richard May, if he had nothing better in view—they liked + him, and knew he was a very steady, good young gentleman, and if he took + after his fathers that went before him—and they thought we might + like to have him settled near!” + </p> + <p> + “How very kind!” said Margaret, as the tears came. “We shall love our own + townsfolk better than ever!” + </p> + <p> + “I always told you so, if you would but believe it. They have warm, sound + hearts, every one of them! I declare, I did not know which way to look, I + was so sorry to disappoint them.” + </p> + <p> + “Disappoint them!” cried Margaret, in consternation. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking,” said Ethel. “I do not believe Richard would think + himself equal to this place in such a state as it is. He is so diffident.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dr. May, “if he were ten or twelve years older, it would be + another thing; but here, where everything is to be done, he would not + bring weight or force enough. He would only work himself to death, for + individuals, without going to the root. Margaret, my darling, I am very + sorry to have disappointed you so much—it would have been as great a + pleasure as we could have had in this world to have the lad here—” + </p> + <p> + “And Cocksmoor,” sighed Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be grateful all my life to those good people for thinking of it,” + continued the doctor; “but look you here, it was my business to get the + best man chosen in my power and, though as to goodness, I believe the dear + Ritchie has not many equals; I don’t think we can conscientiously say he + would be, at present, the best vicar for Stoneborough.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel would not say no, for fear she should pain Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” continued Dr. May, “after having staved off the sale of the + presentation as a sin, it would hardly have been handsome to have let my + own son profit by it. It would have seemed as if we had our private ends, + when Richard helped poor old Mr. Ramsden.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret owned this, and Ethel said Richard would be glad to be spared the + refusal. + </p> + <p> + “I was sure of it. The poor fellow would have been perplexed between the + right and consideration for us. A vicar here ought to carry things with a + high hand, and that is hardest to do at a man’s own home, especially for a + quiet lad like him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa, it was quite right,” said Margaret, recovering herself; “it + has spared Richard a great deal.” + </p> + <p> + “But are we to have Mr. Wilmot?” said Ethel. “Think of our not having + heard!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay. If they would not have had Wilmot, or a man of his calibre, perhaps I + might have let them offer it to Richard. I almost wish I had. With help, + and Ethel—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, papa,” said Margaret. “You are making me angry with myself for my + folly. It is much better for Richard himself, and for us all, as well as + the town. Think how long we have wished for Mr. Wilmot!” + </p> + <p> + “He will be in time for the opening of Cocksmoor school!” cried Ethel. + “How did you manage it?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not manage at all,” said the doctor. “I told them exactly my mind, + that Richard was not old enough for such arduous work; and though no words + could tell how obliged I was, if they asked me who was the best man for it + I knew, I should say Edward Wilmot, and I thought he deserved something + from us, for the work he did gratis, when he was second master. Tomkins + growled a little, but, fortunately, no one was prepared with another + proposal, so they all came round, and the mayor is to write by this + evening’s post, and so shall I. If we could only have given Richard a + dozen more years!” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was somewhat comforted to find that the sacrifice had cost her + father a good deal; she was always slightly jealous for Richard, and now + that Alan was gone, she clung to him more than ever. His soft calm manner + supported her more than any other human comforter, and she always yearned + after him when absent, more than for all the other brothers; but her + father’s decision had been too high-minded for her to dare to wish it + recalled, and she could not but own that Richard would have had to undergo + more toil and annoyance than perhaps his health would have endured. + </p> + <p> + Flora had discontinued comments to her sisters on her father’s + proceedings, finding that observations mortified Margaret, and did not + tend to peace with Ethel; but she told her husband that she did not regret + it much, for Richard would have exhausted his own income, and his father’s + likewise, in paying curates, and raising funds for charities. She scarcely + expected Mr. Edward Wilmot to accept the offer, aware as he was, of the + many disadvantages he should have to contend with, and unsuccessful as he + had been in dealing with the Ladies’ Committee. + </p> + <p> + However, Mr. Wilmot signified his thankful acceptance, and, in due time, + his familiar tap was heard at the drawing-room door, at tea-time, as if he + had just returned after the holidays. He was most gladly welcomed, and + soon was installed in his own place, with his goddaughter, Mary, blushing + with pleasure at pouring out his coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ethel, how is Cocksmoor? How like old times!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” cried Ethel, “we are so glad you will see the beginning of the + school!” + </p> + <p> + “I hear you are finishing Cherry Elwood, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Much against Ethel’s will,” said Margaret; “but we thought Cherry not + easily spoiled. And Whitford school seems to be in very good order. Dr. + Spencer went and had an inspection of it, and conferred with all the + authorities.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! we have a jewel of a parishioner for you,” said Dr. May. “I have some + hopes of Stoneborough now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot did not look too hopeful, but he smiled, and asked after Granny + Hall, and the children. + </p> + <p> + “Polly grew up quite civilised,” said Ethel. “She lives at Whitford, with + some very respectable people, and sends granny presents, which make her + merrier than ever. Last time it was a bonnet, and Jenny persuaded her to + go to church in it, though, she said, what she called the moon of it was + too small.” + </p> + <p> + “How do the people go on?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say much for them. It is disheartening. We really have done + nothing. So very few go to church regularly.” + </p> + <p> + “None at all went in my time,” said Mr. Wilmot. + </p> + <p> + “Elwood always goes,” said Mary, “and Taylor; yes, and Sam Hall, very + often, and many of the women, in the evening, because they like to walk + home with the children.” + </p> + <p> + “The children? the Sunday scholars?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, every one that is big enough comes to school now, here, on Sunday. If + only the teaching were better—” + </p> + <p> + “Have you sent out any more pupils to service?” + </p> + <p> + “Not many. There is Willie Brown, trying to be Dr. Spencer’s little + groom,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “But I am afraid it will take a great deal of the doctor’s patience to + train him,” added Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “It is hard,” said Dr. May. “He did it purely to oblige Ethel; and, I tell + her, when he lames the pony, I shall expect her to buy another for him, + out of the Cocksmoor funds.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel and Mary broke out in a chorus of defence of Willie Brown. + </p> + <p> + “There was Ben Wheeler,” said Mary, “who went to work in the quarries; and + the men could not teach him to say bad words, because the young ladies + told him not.” + </p> + <p> + “The young ladies have not quite done nothing,” said Dr. May, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “These are only little stray things, and Cherry has done the chief of + them,” said Ethel. “Oh, it is grievously bad still,” she added, sighing. + “Such want of truth, such ungoverned tongues and tempers, such godlessness + altogether! It is only surface-work, taming the children at school, while + they have such homes; and their parents, even if they do come where they + might learn better, are always liable to be upset, as they call it—turned + out of their places in church, and they will not run the chance.” + </p> + <p> + “The church must come to them,” said Mr. Wilmot. “Could the school be made + fit to be licensed for service.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask our architect,” said Dr. May. “There can be little doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been settling that I must have a curate specially for Cocksmoor,” + said Mr. Wilmot. “Can you tell me of one, Ethel—or perhaps Margaret + could?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret could only smile faintly, for her heart was beating. + </p> + <p> + “Seriously,” said Mr. Wilmot, turning to Dr. May, “do you think Richard + would come and help us here?” + </p> + <p> + “This seems to be his destiny,” said the doctor, smiling, “only it would + not be fair to tell you, lest you should be jealous—that the Town + Council had a great mind for him.” + </p> + <p> + The matter was explained, and Mr. Wilmot was a great deal more struck by + Dr. May’s conduct than the good doctor thought it deserved. Every one was + only too glad that Richard should come as Cocksmoor curate; and, though + the stipend was very small—since Mr. Wilmot meant to have other + assistance—yet, by living at home, it might be feasible. + </p> + <p> + Margaret’s last words that night to Ethel were, “The last wish I had dared + to make is granted!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot wrote to Richard, who joyfully accepted his proposal, and + engaged to come home as soon as his present rector could find a + substitute. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer was delighted, and, it appeared, had already had a view to + such possibilities in designing the plan of the school. + </p> + <p> + The first good effect of Mr. Wilmot’s coming was, that Dr. Spencer was + cured of the vagrant habits of going to church at Abbotstoke or Fordholm, + that had greatly concerned his friend. Dr. May, who could never get any + answer from him except that he was not a Town Councillor, and, as to + example, it was no way to set that to sleep through the sermon. + </p> + <p> + To say that Dr. May never slept under the new dynasty would be an + over-statement, but slumber certainly prevailed in the minster to a far + less degree than formerly. One cause might be that it was not shut up + unaired from one Sunday to another, but that the chime of the bells was no + longer an extraordinary sound on a week-day. It was at first pronounced + that time could not be found for going to church on week-days without + neglecting other things, but Mary, who had lately sat very loose to the + schoolroom, began gradually to slip down to church whenever the service + was neither too early nor too late; and Gertrude was often found trotting + by her side—going to mamma, as the little Daisy called it, from some + confusion between the church and the cloister, which Ethel was in no hurry + to disturb. + </p> + <p> + Lectures in Lent filled the church a good deal, as much perhaps from the + novelty as from better motives, and altogether there was a renewal of + energy in parish work. The poor had become so little accustomed to + pastoral care, that the doctors and the district visitors were obliged to + report cases of sickness to the clergy, and vainly tried to rouse the + people to send of their own accord. However, the better leaven began to + work, and, of course, there was a ferment, though less violent than Ethel + had expected. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot set more cautiously to work than he had done in his younger + days, and did not attack prejudices so openly, and he had an admirable + assistant in Dr. Spencer. Every one respected the opinion of the travelled + doctor, and he had a courteous clever process of the reduction to the + absurd, which seldom failed to tell, while it never gave offence. As to + the Ladies’ Committee, though there had been expressions of dismay, when + the tidings of the appointment first went abroad, not one of the whole + “Aonian choir” liked to dissent from Dr. Spencer, and he talked them over, + individually, into a most conformable state, merely by taking their + compliance for granted, and showing that he deemed it only the natural + state of things, that the vicar should reign over the charities of the + place. + </p> + <p> + The committee was not dissolved—that would have been an act of + violence—but it was henceforth subject to Mr. Wilmot, and he and his + curates undertook the religious instruction in the week, and chose the + books—a state of affairs brought about with so much quietness, that + Ethel knew not whether Flora, Dr. Spencer, or Mr. Wilmot had been the + chief mover. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ledwich was made treasurer of a new coal club, and Miss Rich keeper + of the lending-library, occupations which delighted them greatly; and + Ethel was surprised to find how much unity of action was springing up, now + that the period was over, of each “doing right in her own eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “In fact,” said Dr. Spencer, “when women have enough to do, they are + perfectly tractable.” + </p> + <p> + The Cocksmoor accounts were Ethel’s chief anxiety. It seemed as if now + there might be a school-house, but with little income to depend upon, + since poor Alan Ernescliffe’s annual ten pounds was at an end. However, + Dr. May leaned over her as she was puzzling over her pounds, shillings, + and pence, and laid a cheque upon her desk. She looked up in his face. “We + must make Cocksmoor Harry’s heir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + By and by it appeared that Cocksmoor was not out of Hector Ernescliffe’s + mind. The boy’s letters to Margaret had been brief, matter-of-fact, and + discouraging, as long as the half-year lasted, and there was not much to + be gathered about him from Tom, on his return for the Easter holidays, but + soon poor Hector wrote a long dismal letter to Margaret. + </p> + <p> + Captain Gordon had taken him to Maplewood, where the recollection of his + brother, and the happy hopes with which they had taken possession, came + thronging upon him. The house was forlorn, and the corner that had been + unpacked for their reception, was as dreary a contrast to the bright home + at Stoneborough, as was the dry, stern captain, to the fatherly + warm-hearted doctor. Poor Hector had little or nothing to do, and the + pleasure of possession had not come yet; he had no companion of his own + age, and bashfulness made him shrink with dislike from introduction to his + tenants and neighbours. + </p> + <p> + There was not an entertaining book in the house, he declared, and the + captain snubbed him, if he bought anything he cared to read. The captain + was always at him to read musty old improving books, and talking about the + position he would occupy. The evenings were altogether unbearable, and if + it were not for rabbit shooting now, and the half-year soon beginning + again, Hector declared he should be ready to cut and run, and leave + Captain Gordon and Maplewood to each other—and very well matched + too! He was nearly in a state of mind to imitate that unprecedented boy, + who wrote a letter to ‘The Times’, complaining of extra weeks. + </p> + <p> + As to Cocksmoor, Ethel must not think it forgotten; he had spoken to the + captain about it, and the old wooden-head had gone and answered that it + was not incumbent on him, that Cocksmoor had no claims upon him, and he + could not make it up out of his allowance; for the old fellow would not + give him a farthing more than he had before, and had said that was too + much. + </p> + <p> + There was a great blur over the words “wooden-head,” as if Hector had + known that Margaret would disapprove, and had tried to scratch it out. She + wrote all the consolation in her power, and exhorted him to patience, + apparently without much effect. She would not show his subsequent letters, + and the reading and answering them fatigued her so much, that Hector’s + writing was an unwelcome sight at Stoneborough. Each letter, as Ethel + said, seemed so much taken out of her, and she begged her not to think + about them. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can do me much good or harm now,” said Margaret; and seeing + Ethel’s anxious looks, “Is it not my greatest comfort that Hector can + still treat me as his sister, or, if I can only be of any use in keeping + him patient? Only think of the danger of a boy, in his situation, being + left without sympathy!” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing more to be said. They all felt it was good for them that + the building at Cocksmoor gave full occupation to thoughts and + conversation; indeed, Tom declared they never walked in any other + direction, nor talked of anything else, and that without Hector, or George + Rivers, he had nobody to speak to. However, he was a good deal + tranquillised by an introduction to Dr. Spencer’s laboratory, where he + compounded mixtures that Dr. Spencer promised should do no more harm than + was reasonable to himself, or any one else. Ethel suspected that, if Tom + had chanced to singe his eyebrows, his friend would not have regretted a + blight to his nascent coxcombry, but he was far too careful of his own + beauty to do any such thing. + </p> + <p> + Richard was set at liberty just before Easter, and came home to his new + charge. He was aware of what had taken place, and heartily grateful for + the part his father had taken. To work at Cocksmoor, under Mr. Wilmot, and + to live at home, was felicity; and he fitted at once into his old place, + and resumed all the little home services for which he had been always + famed. Ethel was certain that Margaret was content, when she saw her + brother bending over her, and the sense of reliance and security that the + presence of the silent Richard imparted to the whole family was something + very peculiar, especially as they were so much more active and + demonstrative than he was. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot put him at once in charge of the hamlet. The inhabitants were + still a hard, rude, unpromising race, and there were many flagrant evils + amongst them, but the last few years had not been without some effect—some + were less obdurate, a few really touched, and, almost all, glad of + instruction for their children. If Ethel’s perseverance had done nothing + else, it had, at least, been a witness, and her immediate scholars showed + the influence of her lessons. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Then out into the world, my course I did determine; + Though, to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming. + My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education; + Resolved was I, at least to try, to mend my situation.—BURNS. +</pre> + <p> + In the meantime, the session of Parliament had begun, and the Rivers’ + party had, since February, inhabited Park Lane. Meta had looked pale and + pensive, as she bade her friends at Stoneborough good-bye; but only + betrayed that she had rather have stayed at home, by promising herself + great enjoyment in meeting them again at Easter. + </p> + <p> + Flora was, on the other hand, in the state of calm patronage that + betokened perfect satisfaction. She promised wonders for Miss Bracy’s + sisters—talked of inviting Mary and Blanche to see sights and take + lessons; and undertook to send all the apparatus needed by Cocksmoor + school; and she did, accordingly, send down so many wonderful articles, + that curate and schoolmistress were both frightened; Mrs. Taylor thought + the easels were new-fashioned instruments of torture; and Ethel found + herself in a condition to be liberal to Stoneborough National School. + </p> + <p> + Flora was a capital correspondent, and made it her business to keep + Margaret amused, so that the home-party were well informed of the doings + of each of her days—and very clever her descriptions were. She had + given herself a dispensation from general society until after Easter; but, + in the meantime, both she and Meta seemed to find great enjoyment in + country rides and drives, and in quiet little dinners at home, to George’s + agreeable political friends. With the help of two such ladies as Mrs. and + Miss Rivers, Ethel could imagine George’s house pleasant enough to attract + clever people; but she was surprised to find how full her sister’s letters + were of political news. + </p> + <p> + It was a period when great interests were in agitation; and the details of + London talk and opinions were extremely welcome. Dr. Spencer used to come + in to ask after “Mrs. Rivers’s Intelligencer”; and, when he heard the + lucid statements, would say, she ought to have been a “special + correspondent.” And her father declared that her news made him twice as + welcome to his patients; but her cleverest sentences always were prefaced + with “George says,” or “George thinks,” in a manner that made her appear + merely the dutiful echo of his sentiments. + </p> + <p> + In an early letter, Flora mentioned how she had been reminded of poor + Harry, by finding Miss Walkinghame’s card. That lady lived with her mother + at Richmond, and, on returning the visit, Flora was warmly welcomed by the + kind old Lady Walkinghame, who insisted on her bringing her baby and + spending a long day. The sisters-in-law had been enchanted with Miss + Walkinghame, whose manners, wrote Flora, certainly merited papa’s + encomium. + </p> + <p> + On the promised “long day,” they found an unexpected addition to the + party, Sir Henry Walkinghame, who had newly returned from the continent. + “A fine-looking, agreeable man, about five-and-thirty,” Flora described + him, “very lively and entertaining. He talked a great deal of Dr. Spencer, + and of the life in the caves at Thebes; and he asked me whether that + unfortunate place, Cocksmoor, did not owe a great deal to me, or to one of + my sisters. I left Meta to tell him that story, and they became very + sociable over it.” + </p> + <p> + A day or two after—“Sir Henry Walkinghame has been dining with us. + He has a very good voice, and we had some delightful music in the + evening.” + </p> + <p> + By and by Sir Henry was the second cavalier, when they went to an + oratorio, and Meta’s letter overflowed with the descriptions she had heard + from him of Italian church music. He always went to Rome for Easter, and + had been going as usual, this spring, but he lingered, and, for once, + remained in England, where he had only intended to spend a few days on + necessary business. + </p> + <p> + The Easter recess was not spent at the Grange, but at Lady Leonora’s + pretty house in Surrey. She had invited the party in so pressing a manner + that Flora did not think it right to decline. Meta expressed some + disappointment at missing Easter among her school-children, but she said a + great deal about the primroses and the green corn-fields, and nightingales—all + which Ethel would have set down to her trick of universal content, if it + had not appeared that Sir Henry was there too, and shared in all the + delicious rides. + </p> + <p> + “What would Ethel say,” wrote Flora, “to have our little Meta as Lady of + the Manor of Cocksmoor? He has begun to talk about Drydale, and there are + various suspicious circumstances that Lady Leonora marks with the eyes of + a discreet dowager. It was edifying to see how, from smiles, we came to + looks, and by and by to confidential talks, which have made her entirely + forgive me for having so many tall brothers. Poor dear old Mr. Rivers! + Lady Leonora owns that it was the best thing possible for that sweet girl + that he did not live any longer to keep her in seclusion; it is so + delightful to see her appreciated as she deserves, and with her beauty and + fortune, she might make any choice she pleases. In fact, I believe Lady + Leonora would like to look still higher for her, but this would be mere + ambition, and we should be far better satisfied with such a connection as + this, founded on mutual and increasing esteem, with a man so well suited + to her, and fixing her so close to us. You must not, however, launch out + into an ocean of possibilities, for the good aunt has only infected me + with the castle-building propensities of chaperons, and Meta is perfectly + unconscious, looking on him as too hopelessly middle-aged, to entertain + any such evil designs, avowing freely that she likes him, and treating him + very nearly as she does papa. It is my business to keep ‘our aunt,’ who, + between ourselves, has, below the surface, the vulgarity of nature that + high-breeding cannot eradicate, from startling the little humming-bird, + before the net has been properly twined round her bright little heart. As + far as I can see, he is much smitten, but very cautious in his approaches, + and he is wise.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret did not know what dismay she conveyed, as she handed this letter + to her sister. There was no rest for Ethel till she could be alone with + her father. “Could nothing prevent it? Could not Flora be told of Mr. + Rivers’s wishes?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “His wishes would have lain this way.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know that.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no concern of ours. There is nothing objectionable here, and though + I can’t say it is not a disappointment, it ought not to be. The long and + short of it is, that I never ought to have told you anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Norman!” + </p> + <p> + “Absurd! The lad is hardly one-and-twenty. Very few marry a first love.” + (Ah, Ethel!) “Poor old Rivers only mentioned it as a refuge from + fortune-hunters, and it stands to reason that he would have preferred + this. Anyway, it is awkward for a man with empty pockets to marry an + heiress, and it is wholesomer for him to work for his living. Better that + it should be out of his head at once, if it were there at all. I trust it + was all our fancy. I would not have him grieved now for worlds, when his + heart is sore.” + </p> + <p> + “Somehow,” said Ethel, “though he is depressed and silent, I like it + better than I did last Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, when we were laughing out of the bitterness of our hearts,” + said Dr. May, sighing. “It is a luxury to let oneself alone to be + sorrowful.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel did not know whether she desired a tete-a-tete with Norman or not. + She was aware that he had seen Flora’s letter, and she did not believe + that he would ever mention the hopes that must have been dashed by it; or, + if he should do so, how could she ever guard her father’s secret? At + least, she had the comfort of recognising the accustomed Norman in his + manner, low-spirited, indeed, and more than ever dreamy and melancholy, + but not in the unnatural and excited state that had made her unhappy about + him. She could not help telling Dr. Spencer that this was much more the + real brother. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say,” was the answer, not quite satisfactory in tone. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would like it better.” + </p> + <p> + “Truth is better than fiction, certainly. But I am afraid he has a + tendency to morbid self-contemplation, and you ought to shake him out of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the difference between self-contemplation and self-examination?” + </p> + <p> + “The difference between your brother and yourself. Ah! you think that no + answer. Will you have a medical simile? Self-examination notes the + symptoms and combats them; self-contemplation does as I did when I was + unstrung by that illness at Poonshedagore, and was always feeling my own + pulse. It dwells on them, and perpetually deplores itself. Oh, dear! this + is no better—what a wretch I am. It is always studying its + deformities in a moral looking-glass.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think poor Norman does that, but I thought it right and humble.” + </p> + <p> + “The humility of a self-conscious mind. It is the very reverse of your + father, who is the most really humble man in existence.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you call self-consciousness a fault?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I call it a misfortune. In the vain, it leads to prudent vanity; in + the good, to a painful effort of humility.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I quite understand what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “No, and you have so much of your father in you, that you never will. But + take care of your brother, and don’t let his brains work.” + </p> + <p> + How Ethel was to take care of him she did not know; she could only keep a + heedful eye on him, and rejoice when he took Tom out for a long walk—a + companion certainly not likely to promote the working of the brain—but + though it was in the opposite direction to Cocksmoor, Tom came home + desperately cross, snubbed Gertrude, and fagged Aubrey; but, then, as + Blanche observed, perhaps that was only because his trousers were + splashed. + </p> + <p> + In her next solitary walk to Cocksmoor, Norman joined Ethel. She was + gratified, but she could not think of one safe word worth saying to him, + and for a mile they preserved an absolute silence, until he first began, + “Ethel, I have been thinking—” + </p> + <p> + “That you have!” said she, between hope and dread, and the thrill of being + again treated as his friend. + </p> + <p> + “I want to consult you. Don’t you think now that Richard is settled at + home, and if Tom will study medicine, that I could be spared.” + </p> + <p> + “Spared!” exclaimed Ethel. “You are not much at home.” + </p> + <p> + “I meant more than my present absences. It is my earnest wish—” he + paused, and the continuation took her by surprise. “Do you think it would + give my father too much pain to part with me as a missionary to New + Zealand?” + </p> + <p> + She could only gaze at him in mute amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he could bear it?” said Norman hastily. + </p> + <p> + “He would consent,” she replied. “Oh, Norman, it is the most glorious + thing man can do! How I wish I could go with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mission is here,” said Norman affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “I know it is—I am contented with it,” said Ethel; “but oh! Norman, + after all our talks about races and gifts, you have found the more + excellent way.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Charity finds room at home, and mine are not such unmixed motives + as yours.” + </p> + <p> + She made a sound of inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you all. Some you shall hear. I am weary of this feverish + life of competition and controversy—” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were so happy with your fellowship. I thought Oxford was + your delight.” + </p> + <p> + “She will always be nearer my heart than any place, save this. It is not + her fault that I am not like the simple and dutiful, who are not fretted + or perplexed.” + </p> + <p> + “Perplexed?” repeated Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “It is not so now,” he replied. “God forbid! But where better men have + been led astray, I have been bewildered; till, Ethel, I have felt as if + the ground were slipping from beneath my feet, and I have only been able + to hide my eyes, and entreat that I might know the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “You knew it!” said Ethel, looking pale, and gazing searchingly at him. + </p> + <p> + “I did, I do; but it was a time of misery when, for my presumption, I + suppose, I was allowed to doubt whether it were the truth.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel recoiled, but came nearer, saying, very low, “It is past.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank Him who is Truth. You all saved me, though you did not know + it.” + </p> + <p> + “When was this?” she asked timidly. + </p> + <p> + “The worst time was before the Long Vacation. They told me I ought to read + this book and that. Harvey Anderson used to come primed with arguments. I + could always overthrow them, but when I came to glory in doing so, perhaps + I prayed less. Anyway, they left a sting. It might be that I doubted my + own sincerity, from knowing that I had got to argue, chiefly because I + liked to be looked on as a champion.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel saw the truth of what her friend had said of the morbid habit of + self-contemplation. + </p> + <p> + “I read, and I mystified myself. The better I talked, the more my own + convictions failed me; and, by the time you came up to Oxford, I knew how + you would have shrunk from him who was your pride, if you could have seen + into the secrets beneath.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel took hold of his hand. “You seemed bright,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It melted like a bad dream before—before the humming-bird, and with + my father. It was weeks ere I dared to face the subject again.” + </p> + <p> + “How could you? Was it safe?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not have gone on as I was. Sometimes the sight of my father, or + the mountains and lakes in Scotland, or—or—things at the + Grange, would bring peace back; but there were dark hours, and I knew that + there could be no comfort till I had examined and fought it out.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose examination was right,” said Ethel, “for a man, and defender of + the faith. I should only have tried to pray the terrible thought away. But + I can’t tell how it feels.” + </p> + <p> + “Worse than you have power to imagine,” said Norman, shuddering. “It is + over now. I worked out their fallacies, and went over the reasoning on our + side.” + </p> + <p> + “And prayed—” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I did; and the confidence returned, firmer, I hope, than ever. It + had never gone for a whole day.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel breathed freely. “It was life or death,” she said, “and we never + knew it!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not; but I know your prayers were angel-wings ever round me. And + far more than argument, was the thought of my father’s heart-whole + Christian love and strength.” + </p> + <p> + “Norman, you believed, all the time, with your heart. This was only a + bewilderment of your intellect.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are right,” said Norman. “To me the doubt was cruel agony—not + the amusement it seems to some.” + </p> + <p> + “Because our dear home has made the truth, our joy, our union,” said + Ethel. “And you are sure the cloud is gone, and for ever?” she still asked + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + He stood still. “For ever, I trust,” he said. “I hold the faith of my + childhood in all its fullness as surely as—as ever I loved my mother + and Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you do,” said Ethel. “It was only a bad dream.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I may be forgiven for it,” said Norman. “I do not know how far it + was sin. It was gone so far as that my mind was convinced last Christmas, + but the shame and sting remained. I was not at peace again till the news + of this spring came, and brought, with the grief, this compensation—that + I could cast behind me and forget the criticisms and doubts that those + miserable debates had connected with sacred words.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be the sounder for having fought the fight,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I do not dread the like shocks,” said her brother, “but I long to leave + this world of argument and discussion. It is right that there should be a + constant defence and battle, but I am not fit for it. I argue for my own + triumph, and, in heat and harassing, devotion is lost. Besides, the + comparison of intellectual power has been my bane all my life.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought ‘praise was your penance here.’” + </p> + <p> + “I would fain render it so, but—in short, I must be away from it + all, and go to the simplest, hardest work, beginning from the rudiments, + and forgetting subtle arguments.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgetting yourself,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Right. I want to have no leisure to think about myself,” said Norman. “I + am never so happy as at such times.” + </p> + <p> + “And you want to find work so far away?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help feeling drawn towards those southern seas. I am glad you + can give me good-speed. But what do you think about my father?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel thought and thought. “I know he would not hinder you,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “But you dread the pain for him? I had talked to Tom about taking his + profession; but the poor boy thinks he dislikes it greatly, though, I + believe, his real taste lies that way, and his aversion only arises a few + grand notions he has picked up, out of which I could soon talk him.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom will not stand in your place,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “He will be more equable and more to be depended upon,” said Norman. “None + of you appreciate Tom. However, you must hear my alternative. If you think + my going would be too much grief for papa, or if Tom be set against + helping him in his practice, there is an evident leading of Providence, + showing that I am unworthy of this work. In that case I would go abroad + and throw myself, at once, with all my might, into the study of medicine, + and get ready to give my father some rest. It is a shame that all his sons + should turn away from his profession.” + </p> + <p> + “I am more than ever amazed!” cried Ethel. “I thought you detested it. I + thought papa never wished it for you. He said you had not nerve.” + </p> + <p> + “He was always full of the tenderest consideration for me,” said Norman. + “With Heaven to help him, a man may have nerve for whatever is his duty.” + </p> + <p> + “How he would like to have you to watch and help. But New Zealand would be + so glorious!” + </p> + <p> + “Glory is not for me,” said Norman. “Understand, Ethel, the choice is New + Zealand, or going at once—at once, mind—to study at Edinburgh + or Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “New Zealand at once?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I mast stay for divinity lectures, but my intention must be + avowed,” said Norman hastily. “And now, will you sound my father? I + cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t sound,” said Ethel. “I can only do things point-blank.” + </p> + <p> + “Do then,” said Norman, “any way you can! Only let me know which is best + for him. You get all the disagreeable things to do, good old unready one,” + he added kindly. “I believe you are the one who would be shoved in front, + if we were obliged to face a basilisk.” + </p> + <p> + The brightness that had come over Norman, when he had discharged his cares + upon her, was encouragement enough for Ethel. She only asked how much she + was to repeat of their conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you think best. I do not want to grieve him, but he must not + think it fine in me.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel privately thought that no power on earth could prevent him from + doing that. + </p> + <p> + It was not consistent with cautious sounding, that Norman was always + looking appealingly towards her; and, indeed, she could not wait long with + such a question on her mind. She remained with her father in the + drawing-room, when the rest were gone upstairs, and, plunging at once into + the matter, she said, “Papa, there is something that Norman cannot bear to + say to you himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Humming-birds to wit?” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, but he wants to be doing something at once. What should you + think of—of—there are two things; one is—going out as a + missionary—” + </p> + <p> + “Humming-birds in another shape,” said the doctor, startled, but smiling, + so as to pique her. + </p> + <p> + “You mean to treat it as a boy’s fancy!” said she. + </p> + <p> + “It is rather suspicious,” he said. “Well, what is the other of his two + things?” + </p> + <p> + “The other is, to begin studying medicine at once, so as to help you.” + </p> + <p> + “Heyday!” cried Dr. May, drawing up his tall vigorous figure, “does he + think me so very ancient and superannuated?” + </p> + <p> + What could possess him to be so provoking and unsentimental to-night? Was + it her own bad management? She longed to put an end to the conversation, + and answered, “No, but he thinks it hard that none of your sons should be + willing to relieve you.” + </p> + <p> + “It won’t be Norman,” said Dr. May. “He is not made of the stuff. If he + survived the course of study, every patient he lost, he would bring + himself in guilty of murder, and there would soon be an end of him!” + </p> + <p> + “He says that a man can force himself to anything that is his duty.” + </p> + <p> + “This is not going to be his duty, if I can make it otherwise. What is the + meaning of all this? No, I need not ask, poor boy, it is what I was afraid + of!” + </p> + <p> + “It is far deeper,” said Ethel; and she related great part of what she had + heard in the afternoon. It was not easy to make her father listen—his + line was to be positively indignant, rather than compassionate, when he + heard of the doubts that had assailed poor Norman. “Foolish boy, what + business had he to meddle with those accursed books, when he knew what + they were made of—it was tasting poison, it was running into + temptation! He had no right to expect to come out safe—” and then he + grasped tightly hold of Ethel’s hands, and, as if the terror had suddenly + flashed on him, asked her, with dilated eye and trembling voice, whether + she were sure that he was safe, and held the faith. + </p> + <p> + Ethel repeated his asseveration, and her father covered his face with his + hands in thanksgiving. + </p> + <p> + After this, he seemed somewhat inclined to hold poor Oxford in horror, + only, as he observed, it would be going out of the frying-pan into the + fire, to take refuge at Paris—a recurrence to the notion of Norman’s + medical studies, that showed him rather enticed by the proposal. + </p> + <p> + He sent Ethel to bed, saying he should talk to Norman and find out what + was the meaning of it, and she walked upstairs, much ashamed of having so + ill served her brother, as almost to have made him ridiculous. + </p> + <p> + Dr May and Norman never failed to come to an understanding, and after they + had had a long drive into the country together, Dr May told Ethel that he + was afraid, of what he ought not to be afraid of, that she was right, that + the lad was very much in earnest now at any rate, and if he should + continue in the same mind, he hoped he should not be so weak as to hold + him from a blessed work. + </p> + <p> + From Norman, Ethel heard the warmest gratitude for his father’s kindness. + Nothing could be done yet, he must wait patiently for the present, but he + was to write to his uncle, Mr. Arnott, in New Zealand, and, without + pledging himself, to make inquiries as to the mission; and in the + meantime, return to Oxford, where, to his other studies, he was to add a + course of medical lectures, which, as Dr. May said, would do him no harm, + would occupy his mind, and might turn to use wherever he was. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was surprised to find that Norman wrote to Flora an expression of + his resolution, that, if he found he could be spared from assisting his + father as a physician, he would give himself up to the mission in New + Zealand. Why should he tell any one so unsympathetic as Flora, who would + think him wasted in either case? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Do not fear: Heaven is as near, + By water, as by land.—LONGFELLOW. +</pre> + <p> + The fifth of May was poor Harry’s eighteenth birthday, and, as usual, was + a holiday. Etheldred privately thought his memory more likely to be + respected, if Blanche and Aubrey were employed, than if they were left in + idleness; but Mary would have been wretched had the celebration been + omitted, and a leisure day was never unwelcome. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer carried off Blanche and Aubrey for a walk, and Ethel found + Mary at her great resort—Harry’s cupboard—dusting and + arranging his books, and the array of birthday gifts, to which, even + to-day, she had not failed to add the marker that had been in hand at + Christmas. Ethel entreated her to come down, and Mary promised, and + presently appeared, looking so melancholy, that, as a sedative, Ethel set + her down to the basket of scraps to find materials for a tippet for some + one at Cocksmoor, intending, as soon as Margaret should be dressed, to + resign her morning to the others, invite Miss Bracy to the drawing-room, + and read aloud. + </p> + <p> + Gertrude was waiting for her walk, till nurse should have dressed + Margaret, and was frisking about the lawn, sometimes looking in at the + drawing-room window at her sisters, sometimes chattering to Adams at his + work, or laughing to herself and the flowers, in that overflow of mirth, + that seemed always bubbling up within her. + </p> + <p> + She was standing in rapt contemplation of a pear-tree in full blossom, her + hands tightly clasped behind the back, for greater safety from the + temptation, when, hearing the shrubbery gate open, she turned, expecting + to see her papa, but was frightened at the sight of two strangers, and + began to run off at full speed. + </p> + <p> + “Stop! Blanche! Blanche, don’t you know me?” The voice was that tone of + her brother’s, and she stood and looked, but it came from a tall, ruddy + youth, in a shabby rough blue coat, followed by a grizzled old seaman. She + was too much terrified and perplexed even to run. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter! Blanche, it is I! Why, don’t you know me—Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor brother Harry is drowned,” she answered; and, with one bound, he was + beside her, and, snatching her up, devoured her with kisses. + </p> + <p> + “Put me down—put me down, please,” was all she could say. + </p> + <p> + “It is not Blanche! What? the little Daisy, I do believe!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am Gertrude, but please let me go;” and, at the same time, Adams + hurried up, as if he thought her being kidnapped, but his aspect changed + at the glad cry, “Ha! Adams’ how are you? Are they all well?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tisn’t never Master Harry! Bless me!” as Harry’s hand gave him sensible + proof; “when we had given you up for lost!” + </p> + <p> + “My father well?” Harry asked, hurrying the words one over the other. + </p> + <p> + “Quite well, sir, but he never held up his head since he heard it, and + poor Miss Mary has so moped about. If ever I thought to see the like—” + </p> + <p> + “So they did not get my letter, but I can’t stop. Jennings will tell you. + Take care of him. Come, Daisy—” for he had kept her unwilling hand + all the time. “But what’s that for?” pointing to the black ribbons, and, + stopping short, startled. + </p> + <p> + “Because of poor Harry,” said the bewildered child. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s right!” cried he, striding on, and dragging her in a + breathless run, as he threw open the well-known doors; and, she escaping + from him, hid her face in Mary’s lap, screaming, “He says he is Harry! he + says he is not drowned!” + </p> + <p> + At the same moment Ethel was in his arms, and his voice was sobbing, + “Ethel! Mary! home! Where’s papa?” One moment’s almost agonising joy in + the certainty of his identity! but ere she could look or think, he was + crying, “Mary! oh, Ethel, see—” + </p> + <p> + Mary had not moved, but sat as if turned to stone, with breath suspended, + wide-stretched eyes, and death-like cheeks—Ethel sprang to her, + “Mary, Mary dear, it is Harry! It is himself! Don’t you see? Speak to her, + Harry.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed almost afraid to do so, but, recovering himself, exclaimed, + “Mary, dear old Polly, here I am! Oh, won’t you speak to me?” he added + piteously, as he threw his arm round her and kissed her, startled at the + cold touch of her cheek. + </p> + <p> + The spell seemed broken, and, with a wild hoarse shriek that rang through + the house, she struggled to regain her breath, but it would only come in + painful, audible catches, as she held Harry’s hand convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “What have I done?” he exclaimed, in distress. + </p> + <p> + “What’s this! Who is this frightening my dear?” was old nurse’s + exclamation, as she and James came at the outcry. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nurse, what have I done to her?” repeated Harry. + </p> + <p> + “It is joy—it is sudden joy!” said Ethel. “See, she is better now—” + </p> + <p> + “Master Harry! Well, I never!” and James, “with one wring of the hand, + retreated, while old nurse was nearly hugged to death, declaring all the + time that he didn’t ought to have come in such a way, terrifying every one + out of their senses! and as for poor Miss May— + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” cried Harry, starting at the sight of the vacant sofa. + </p> + <p> + “Only upstairs,” said Ethel; “but where’s Alan? Is not he come?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ethel, don’t you know?” His face told but too plainly. + </p> + <p> + “Nurse! nurse, how shall we tell her?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Poor dear!” exclaimed nurse, sounding her tongue on the roof of her + mouth. “She’ll never abear it without her papa. Wait for him, I should + say. But bless me, Miss Mary, to see you go on like that, when Master + Harry is come back such a bonny man!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m better now,” said Mary, with an effort. “Oh, Harry! speak to me + again.” + </p> + <p> + “But Margaret!” said Ethel, while the brother was holding Mary in his + embrace, and she lay tremulous with the new ecstasy upon his breast—“but + Margaret. Nurse, you must go up, or she will suspect. I’ll come when I + can; speak quietly. Oh! poor Margaret! If Richard would but come in!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel walked up and down the room, divided between a tumult of joy, grief, + dread, and perplexity. At that moment a little voice said at the door, + “Please, Margaret wants Harry to come up directly.” + </p> + <p> + They looked one upon another in consternation. They had never thought of + the child, who, of course, had flown up at once with the tidings. + </p> + <p> + “Go up, Miss Ethel,” said nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! nurse, I can’t be the first. Come, Harry, come.” + </p> + <p> + Hand-in-hand, they silently ascended the stairs, and Ethel pushed open the + door. Margaret was on her couch, her whole form and face in one throb of + expectation. + </p> + <p> + She looked into Harry’s face—the eagerness flitted like sunshine on + the hillside, before a cloud, and, without a word, she held out her arms. + </p> + <p> + He threw himself on his knees, and her fingers were clasped among his + thick curls, while his frame heaved with suppressed sobs, “Oh, if he could + only have come back to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God,” she said; then slightly pushing him back, she lay holding his + hand in one of hers, and resting the other on his shoulder, and gazing in + silence into his face. Each was still—she was gathering strength—he + dreaded word or look. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how and where;” she said at last. + </p> + <p> + “It was in the Loyalty Isles; it was fever—the exertions for us. His + head was lying here,” and he pointed to his own breast. “He sent his love + to you—he bade me tell you there would be meeting by and by, in the + haven where he would be.—I laid his head in the grave—under + the great palm—I said some of the prayers—there are Christians + round it.” + </p> + <p> + He said this in short disconnected phrases, often pausing to gather voice, + but forced to resume, by her inquiring looks and pressure of his hand. + </p> + <p> + She asked no more. “Kiss me,” she said, and when he had done so, “Thank + you, go down, please, all of you. You have brought great relief. Thank + you. But I can’t talk yet. You shall tell me the rest by and by.” + </p> + <p> + She sent them all away, even Ethel, who would have lingered. + </p> + <p> + “Go to him, dearest. Let me be alone. Don’t be uneasy. This is peace—but + go.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel found Mary and Harry interlaced into one moving figure, and Harry + greedily asking for his father and Norman, as if famishing for the sight + of them. He wanted to set out to seek the former in the town, but his + movements were too uncertain, and the girls clung to the newly-found, as + if they could not trust him away from them. They wandered about, speaking, + all three at random, without power of attending to the answers. It was + enough to see him, and touch him; they could not yet care where he had + been. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May was in the midst of them ere they were aware. One look, and he + flung his arms round his son, but, suddenly letting him go, he burst away, + and banged his study door. Harry would have followed. + </p> + <p> + “No, don’t,” said Ethel; then, seeing him disappointed, she came nearer, + and murmured, “‘He entered into his chamber and—‘” + </p> + <p> + Harry silenced her with another embrace, but their father was with them + again, to verify that he had really seen his boy, and ask, alas! whether + Alan were with Margaret. The brief sad answer sent him to see how it was + with her. She would not let him stay; she said it was infinite comfort, + and joy was coming, but she would rather be still, and not come down till + evening. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps others would fain have been still, could they have borne an + instant’s deprivation of the sight of their dear sailor, while greetings + came thickly on him. The children burst in, having heard a report in the + town, and Dr. Spencer waited at the door for the confirmation; but when + Ethel would have flown out to him, he waved his hand, shut the door, and + hurried away, as if a word to her would have been an intrusion. + </p> + <p> + The brothers had been summoned by a headlong apparition of Will Adams in + Cocksmoor school, shouting that Master Harry was come home; and Norman’s + long legs out-speeding Richard, had brought him back, flushed, and too + happy for one word, while, “Well, Harry,” was Richard’s utmost, and his + care for Margaret seemed to overpower everything else, as he went up, and + was not so soon sent away. + </p> + <p> + Words were few downstairs. Blanche and Aubrey agreed that they thought + people would have been much happier, but, in fact, the joy was oppressive + from very newness. Ethel roamed about, she could not sit still without + feeling giddy, in the strangeness of the revulsion. Her father sat, as if + a word would break the blest illusion; and Harry stood before each of them + in turn, as if about to speak, but turned his address into a sudden + caress, or blow on the shoulder, and tried to laugh. Little Gertrude, not + understanding; the confusion, had taken up her station under the table, + and peeped out from beneath the cover. + </p> + <p> + There was more composure as they sat at dinner, and yet there was very + little talking or eating. Afterwards Dr. May and Norman exultingly walked + away, to show their Harry to Dr. Spencer and Mr. Wilmot; and Ethel would + gladly have tried to calm herself, and recover the balance of her mind, by + giving thanks where they were due; but she did not know what to do with + her sisters. Blanche was wild, and Mary still in so shaky a state of + excitement, that she went off into mad laughing, when Blanche discovered + that they were in mourning for Harry. + </p> + <p> + Nothing would satisfy Blanche but breaking in on Margaret, and climbing to + the top of the great wardrobe to disinter the coloured raiment, beseeching + that each favourite might be at once put on, to do honour to Harry. Mary + chimed in with her, in begging for the wedding merinos—would not + Margaret wear her beautiful blue? + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear, I cannot,” said Margaret gently. + </p> + <p> + Mary looked at her and was again in a flood of tears, incoherently + protesting, together with Ethel, that they would not change. + </p> + <p> + “No, dears,” said Margaret. “I had rather you did so. You must not be + unkind to Harry. He will not think I do not welcome him. I am only too + glad that Richard would not let my impatience take away my right to wear + this.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel knew that it was for life. + </p> + <p> + Mary could not check her tears, and would go on making heroic protests + against leaving off her black, sobbing the more at each. Margaret’s gentle + caresses seemed to make her worse, and Ethel, afraid that Margaret’s own + composure would be overthrown, exclaimed, “How can you be so silly? Come + away!” and rather roughly pulled her out of the room, when she collapsed + entirely at the top of the stairs, and sat crying helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t think what’s the use of Harry’s coming home,” Gertrude was heard + saying to Richard. “It is very disagreeable;” whereat Mary relapsed into a + giggle, and Ethel felt frantic. + </p> + <p> + “Richard! Richard! what is to be done with Mary? She can’t help it, I + believe, but this is not the way to treat the mercy that—” + </p> + <p> + “Mary had better go and lie down in her own room,” said Richard, tenderly + and gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please! please!” began Mary, “I shall not see him when he comes + back!” + </p> + <p> + “If you can’t behave properly when he does come,” said Richard, “there is + no use in being there.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember, Ritchie,” said Ethel, thinking him severe, “she has not been + well this long time.” + </p> + <p> + Mary began to plead, but, with his own pretty persuasive manner, he took + her by the hand, and drew her into his room; and when he came down, after + an interval, it was to check Blanche, who would have gone up to interrupt + her with queries about the perpetual blue merino. He sat down with Blanche + on the staircase window-seat, and did not let her go till he had gently + talked her out of flighty spirits into the soberness of thankfulness. + </p> + <p> + Ethel, meanwhile, had still done nothing but stray about, long for + loneliness, find herself too unsteady to finish her letters to Flora and + Tom; and, while she tried to make Gertrude think Harry a pleasant + acquisition, she hated her own wild heart, that could not rejoice, nor + give thanks, aright. + </p> + <p> + By and by Mary came down, with her bonnet on, quite quiet now. “I am going + to church with Ritchie,” she said. Ethel caught at the notion, and it + spread through the house. Dr May, who just then came in with his two sons, + looked at Harry, saying, “What do you think of it? Shall we go, my boy?” + And Harry, as soon as he understood, declared that he should like nothing + better. It seemed what they all needed, even Aubrey and Gertrude begged to + come, and, when the solemn old minster was above their heads, and the + hallowed stillness around them, the tightened sense of half-realised joy + began to find relief in the chant of glory. The voices of the sanctuary, + ever uplifting notes of praise, seemed to gather together and soften their + emotions; and agitation was soothed away, and all that was oppressive and + tumultuous gave place to sweet peace and thankfulness. Ethel dimly + remembered the like sense of relief, when her mother had hushed her wild + ecstasy, while sympathising with her joy. Richard could not trust his + voice, but Mr. Wilmot offered the special thanksgiving. + </p> + <p> + Harry was, indeed, “at home,” and his tears fell fast over his book, as he + heard his father’s “Amen,” so fervent and so deep; and he gazed up and + around, with fond and earnest looks, as thoughts and resolutions, formed + there of old, came gathering thick upon him. And there little Gertrude + seemed first to accept him. She whispered to her papa, as they stood up to + go away, that it was very good in God Almighty to have sent Harry home; + and, as they left the cloister, she slipped into Harry’s hand a daisy from + the grave, such a gift as she had never carried to any one else, save her + father and Margaret, and she shrank no longer from being lifted up in his + arms, and carried home through the twilight street. + </p> + <p> + He hurried into the drawing-room, and was heard declaring that all was + right, for Margaret was on the sofa; but he stopped short, grieved at her + altered looks. She smiled as he stooped to kiss her, and then made him + stand erect, and measure himself against Norman, whose height he had + almost reached. The little curly midshipman had come back, as nurse said, + “a fine-growed young man,” his rosy cheeks, brown and ruddy, and his + countenance— + </p> + <p> + “You are much more like papa and Norman than I thought you would be,” said + Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “He has left his snub nose and yellow locks behind,” said his father; + “though the shaggy mane seems to remain. I believe lions grow darker with + age. So there stand June and July together again!” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May walked backwards to look at them. It was good to see his face. + </p> + <p> + “I shall see Flora and Tom to-morrow!” said Harry, after nodding with + satisfaction, as they all took their wonted places. + </p> + <p> + “Going!” exclaimed Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Why, don’t you know?” said Ethel; “it is current in the nursery that he + is going to be tried by court-martial for living with the King of the + Cannibal Islands.” + </p> + <p> + “Aubrey says he had a desert island, with Jennings for his man Friday,” + said Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Harry,” said little Gertrude, who had established herself on his knee, + “did you really poke out the giant’s eye with the top of a fir-tree?” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you so, Daisy?” was the general cry; but she became shy, and + would not answer more than by a whisper about Aubrey, who indignantly + declared that he never said so, only Gertrude was so foolish that she did + not know Harry from Ulysses. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” said Ethel, “I don’t think our notions are much more defined. + Papa and Norman may know more, but we have heard almost nothing. I have + been waiting to hear more to close up my letters to Flora and Tom. What a + shame that has not been done!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll finish,” said Mary, running to the side-table. + </p> + <p> + “And tell her I’ll be there to-morrow,” said Harry. “I must report myself; + and what fun to see Flora a member of Parliament! Come with me, June; I’ll + be back next day. I wish you all would come.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I must come with you,” said Norman. “I shall have to go to Oxford on + Thursday;” and very reluctant he looked. “Tell Flora I am coming, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you know that Flora was a married lady?” asked Blanche, in her + would-be grown-up manner. + </p> + <p> + “I heard that from Aunt Flora. A famous lot of news I picked up there!” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Flora!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you not know he had been at Auckland?” said Dr. May. “Aunt Flora had + to nurse him well after all he had undergone. Did you not think her very + like mamma, Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma never looked half so old!” cried Harry indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Flora was five years younger!” + </p> + <p> + “She has got her voice and way with her,” said Harry; “but you will soon + see. She is coming home soon.” + </p> + <p> + There was a great outcry of delight. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is some money of Uncle Arnott’s that must be looked after, but + he does not like the voyage, and can’t leave his office, so perhaps Aunt + Flora may come alone. She had a great mind to come with me, but there was + no good berth for her in this schooner, and I could not wait for another + chance. I can’t think what possessed the letters not to come! She would + not write by the first packet, because I was so ill, but we both wrote by + the next, and I made sure you had them, or I would have written before I + came.” + </p> + <p> + The words were not out of his mouth before the second post was brought in, + and there were two letters from New Zealand! What would they not have been + yesterday? Harry would have burned his own, but the long closely-written + sheets were eagerly seized, as, affording the best hope of understanding + his adventures, as it had been written at intervals from Auckland, and the + papers, passing from one to the other, formed the text for interrogations + on further details, though much more was gleaned incidentally in + tete-a-tetes, by Margaret, Norman, or his father, and no one person ever + heard the whole connectedly from Harry himself. + </p> + <p> + “What was the first you knew of the fire, Harry?” asked Dr. May, looking + up from the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Owen shaking me awake; and I thought it was a hoax,” said Harry. “But it + was true enough, and when we got on deck, there were clouds of smoke + coming up the main hatch-way.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret’s eyes were upon him, and her lips formed the question, “And he?” + </p> + <p> + “He met us, and told us to be steady—but there was little need for + that! Every man there was as cool and collected as if it had been no more + than the cook’s stove—and we should have scorned to be otherwise! He + put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Keep by me,’ and I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there was never much hope of extinguishing the fire?” + </p> + <p> + “No; if you looked down below the forecastle it was like a furnace, and + though the pumps were at work, it was only to gain time while the boats + were lowered. The first lieutenant told off the men, and they went down + the side without one word, only shaking hands with those that were left.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Harry! what were you thinking of?” cried Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Of the powder,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + Ethel thought there was more in that answer than met the ear, and that + Harry, at least, had thought of the powder to-night at church. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ernescliffe had the command of the second cutter. He asked to take me + with him; I was glad enough; and Owen—he is mate, you know—went + with us.” + </p> + <p> + As to telling how he felt when he saw the good ship Alcestis blown to + fragments, that was past Harry, and all but Blanche were wise enough not + to ask. She had by way of answer, “Very glad to be safe out of her.” + </p> + <p> + Nor was Harry willing to dwell on the subsequent days, when the unclouded + sun had been a cruel foe; and the insufficient stores of food and water + did, indeed, sustain life, but a life of extreme suffering. What he told + was of the kindness that strove to save him, as the youngest, from all + that could be spared him. “If I dropped asleep at the bottom of the boat, + I was sure to find some one shading me from the sun. If there was an extra + drop of water, they wanted me to have it.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me their names, Harry!” cried Dr. May. “If ever I meet one of them—” + </p> + <p> + “But the storm, Harry, the storm?” asked Blanche. “Was that not terrible?” + </p> + <p> + “Very comfortable at first, Blanche,” was the answer. “Oh, that rain!” + </p> + <p> + “But when it grew so very bad?” + </p> + <p> + “We did not reck much what happened to us,” said Harry. “It could not be + worse than starving. When we missed the others in the morning, most of us + thought them the best off.” + </p> + <p> + Mary could not help coming round to kiss him, as if eyes alone were not + enough to satisfy her that here he was. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May shuddered, and went on reading, and Margaret drew Harry down to + her, and once more by looks craved for more minute tidings. + </p> + <p> + “All that you can think,” murmured Harry; “the very life and soul of us + all—so kind, and yet discipline as perfect as on board. But don’t + now, Margaret—” + </p> + <p> + The tone of the don’t, the reddening cheek, liquid eye, and heaving chest, + told enough of what the lieutenant had been to one, at least, of the + desolate boat’s crew. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Harry, Harry! I can’t bear it!” exclaimed Mary. “How long did it + last? How did it end?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen days,” said Harry. “It was time it should end, for all the water + we had caught in the storm was gone—we gave the last drop to Jones, + for we thought him dying; one’s tongue was like a dry sponge.” + </p> + <p> + “How did it end?” repeated Mary, in an agony. + </p> + <p> + “Jennings saw a sail. We thought it all a fancy of weakness, but ‘twas + true enough, and they saw our signal of distress!” + </p> + <p> + The vessel proved to be an American whaler, which had just parted with her + cargo to a homeward bound ship, and was going to refit, and take in + provisions and water at one of the Milanesian islands, before returning + for further captures. The master was a man of the shrewd, hard + money-making cast; but, at the price of Mr. Ernescliffe’s chronometer, and + of the services of the sailors, he undertook to convey them where they + might fall in with packets bound for Australia. + </p> + <p> + The distressed Alcestes at first thought themselves in paradise, but the + vessel, built with no view, save to whales, and, with a considerable + reminiscence of the blubber lately parted with, proved no wholesome abode, + when overcrowded, and in the tropics! Mr. Ernescliffe’s science, + resolution, and constancy, had saved his men so far; but with the need for + exertion his powers gave way, and he fell a prey to a return of the fever + which had been his introduction to Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “There he was,” said Harry, “laid up in a little bit of a stifling cabin, + just like an oven, without the possibility of a breath of air! The + skin-flint skipper carried no medicine; the water—shocking stuff it + was—was getting so low, that there was only a pint a day served out + to each, and though all of us Alcestes clubbed every drop we could spare + for him—it was bad work! Owen and I never were more glad in our + lives than when we heard we were to cast anchor at the Loyalty Isles! Such + a place as it was! You little know what it was to see anything green! And + there was this isle fringed down close to the sea with cocoa-nut trees! + And the bay as clear!—you could see every shell, and wonderful + fishes swimming in it! Well, every one was for going ashore, and some of + the natives swam out to us, and brought things in their canoes, but not + many; it is not encouraged by the mission, nor by David—for those + Yankee traders are not the most edifying society—and the crew vowed + they were cannibals, and had eaten a man three years ago, so they all went + ashore armed.” + </p> + <p> + “You stayed with him,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, it was my turn, and I was glad enough to have some fresh fruit and + water for him, but he could not take any notice of it. Did not I want you, + papa? Well, by and by, Owen came back, in a perfect rapture with the place + and the people, and said it was the only hope for Mr. Ernescliffe, to take + him on shore—” + </p> + <p> + “Then you did really go amongst the cannibals!” exclaimed Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “That is all nonsense,” said Harry. “Some of them may once have been, and + I fancy the heathens might not mind a bit of ‘long pig’ still; but these + have been converted by the Samoans.” + </p> + <p> + The Samoans, it was further explained, are the inhabitants of the + Navigator Islands, who, having been converted by the Church Missionary + Society, have sent out great numbers of most active and admirable teachers + among the scattered islands, braving martyrdom and disease, never + shrinking from their work, and, by teaching and example, preparing the way + for fuller doctrine than they can yet impart. A station of these devoted + men had for some years been settled in this island, and had since been + visited by the missions of Newcastle and New Zealand. The young chief, + whom Harry called David, and another youth, had spent two summers under + instruction at New Zealand, and had been baptised. They were spending the + colder part of the year at home, and hoped shortly to be called for by the + mission-ship to return, and resume their course of instruction. + </p> + <p> + Owen had come to an understanding with the chief and the Samoans, and had + decided on landing his lieutenant, and it was accordingly done, with very + little consciousness on the patient’s part. Black figures, with woolly + mop-heads, and sometimes decorated with whitewash of lime, crowded round + to assist in the transport of the sick man through the surf; and David + himself, in a white European garb, met his guests, with dignified manners + that would have suited a prince of any land, and conducted them through + the grove of palms, interspersed with white huts, to a beautiful house + consisting of a central room, with many others opening from it, floored + with white coral lime, and lined with soft shining mats of Samoan + manufacture. This, Harry learned, had been erected by them in hopes of an + English missionary taking up his abode amongst them. + </p> + <p> + They were a kindly people, and had shown hospitality to other Englishmen, + who had less appreciated it than these young officers could. They lavished + every kindness in their power upon them, and Mr. Ernescliffe, at first, + revived so much, that he seemed likely to recover. + </p> + <p> + But the ship had completed her repairs, and was ready to sail. The two + midshipmen thought it would be certain death to their lieutenant to bring + him back to such an atmosphere; “and so,” continued Harry’s letter to his + father, “I thought there was nothing for it but for me to stay with him, + and that you would say so. I got Owen to consent, after some trouble, as + we were sure to be fetched off one time or another. We said not a word to + Mr. Ernescliffe, for he was only sensible now and then, so that Owen had + the command. Owen made the skipper leave me a pistol and some powder, but + I was ashamed David should know it, and stowed it away. As to the + quarter-master, old Jennings, whose boy you remember we picked up at the + Roman camp, he had not forgotten that, and when we were shaking hands and + wishing good-bye, he leaped up, and vowed ‘he would never leave the young + gentleman that had befriended his boy, to be eaten up by them black savage + niggers. If they made roast-pork of Mr. May, he would be eaten first, + though he reckoned they would find him a tougher morsel.’ I don’t think + Owen was sorry he volunteered, and no words can tell what a blessing the + good old fellow was to us both. + </p> + <p> + “So there we stayed, and, at first, Mr. Ernescliffe seemed mending. The + delirium went off, he could talk quite clearly and comfortably, and he + used to lie listening, when David and I had our odd sort of talks. I + believe, if you had been there, or we could have strengthened him any way, + he might have got over it; but he never thought he should, and he used to + talk to me about all of you, and said Stoneborough had been the most + blessed spot in his life; he had never had so much of a home, and that + sharing our grief, and knowing you, had done him great good, just when he + might have been getting elated. I cannot recollect it all, though I tried + hard, for Margaret’s sake, but he said Hector would have a great deal of + temptation, and he hoped you would be a father to him, and Norman an elder + brother. You would not think how much he talked of Cocksmoor, about a + church being built there, as Ethel wished, and little Daisy laying the + first stone. I remember one night, I don’t know whether he was quite + himself, for he looked full at me with his eyes, that had grown so large, + till I did not know what was coming, and he said, ‘I have seen a ship + built by a sailor’s vow; the roof was like the timbers of a ship—that + was right. Mind, it is so. That is the ship that bears through the waves; + there is the anchor that enters within the veil.’ I believe that was what + he said. I could not forget that—he looked at me so; but much more + he said, that I dimly remember, and chiefly about poor dear Margaret. He + bade me tell her—his own precious pearl, as he used to call her—that + he was quite content, and believed it was best for her and him both, that + all should be thus settled, for they did not part for ever, and he trusted—But + I can’t write all that.” (There was a great tear-blot just here). “It is + too good to recollect anywhere but at church. I have been there to-day, + with my uncle and aunt, and I thought I could have told it when I came + home, but I was too tired to write then, and now I don’t seem as if it + could be written anyhow. When I come home, I will try to tell Margaret. + The most part was about her; only what was better seemed to swallow that + up.” + </p> + <p> + The narrative broke off here, but had been subsequently resumed. + </p> + <p> + “For all Mr. Ernescliffe talked as I told you, he was so quiet and happy, + that I made sure he was getting well, but Jennings did not; and there came + an old heathen native once to see us, who asked why we did not bury him + alive, because he got no better, and gave trouble. At last, one night—it + was the third of August—he was very restless, and could not breathe, + nor lie easily; I lifted him up in my arms, for he was very light and + thin, and tried to make him more comfortable. But presently he said, ‘Is + it you, Harry? God bless you;’ and, in a minute, I knew he was dead. You + will tell Margaret all about it. I don’t think she can love him more than + I did; and she did not half know him, for she never saw him on board, nor + in all that dreadful time, nor in his illness. She will never know what + she has lost.” + </p> + <p> + There was another break here, and the story was continued. + </p> + <p> + “We buried him the next day, where one could see the sea, close under the + great palm, where David hopes to have a church one of these days. David + helped us, and said the Lord’s Prayer and the Glory with us there. I + little thought, when I used to grumble at my two verses of the psalms + every day, when I should want the ninetieth, or how glad I should be to + know so many by heart, for they were such a comfort to Mr. Ernescliffe. + </p> + <p> + “David got us a nice bit of wood, and Jennings carved the cross, and his + name, and all about him. I should have liked to have done it, but I + knocked up after that. Jennings thinks I had a sun-stroke. I don’t know, + but my head was so bad, whenever I moved, that I thought only Jennings + would ever have come to tell you about it. Jennings looked after me as if + I had been his own son; and there was David too, as kind as if he had been + Richard himself—always sitting by, to bathe my forehead, or, when I + was a little better, to talk to me, and ask me questions about his + Christian teaching. You must not think of him like a savage, for he is my + friend, and a far more perfect gentleman than I ever saw any one, but you, + papa, holding the command over his people so easily and courteously, and + then coming to me with little easy first questions about the Belief, and + such things, like what we used to ask mamma. He liked nothing so well as + for me to tell him about King David; and we had learned a good deal of + each other’s languages by that time. The notion of his heart—like + Cocksmoor to Ethel—is to get a real English mission, and have all + his people Christians. Ethel talked of good kings being Davids to their + line; I think that is what he will be, if he lives; but those islanders + have been dying off since Europeans came among them.” + </p> + <p> + But Harry’s letter could not tell what he confessed, one night, to his + father, the next time he was out with him by starlight, how desolate he + had been, and how he had yearned after his home, and, one evening, he had + been utterly overcome by illness and loneliness, and had cried most + bitterly and uncontrollably; and, though Jennings thought it was for his + friend’s death, it really was homesickness, and the thought of his father + and Mary. Jennings had helped him out to the entrance of the hut, that the + cool night air might refresh his burning brow. Orion shone clear and + bright, and brought back the night when they had chosen the starry hunter + as his friend. “It seemed,” he said, “as if you all were looking at me, + and smiling to me in the stars. And there was the Southern Cross upright, + which was like the minster to me; and I recollected it was Sunday morning + at home, and knew you would be thinking about me. I was so glad you had + let me be confirmed, and be with you that last Sunday, papa, for it seemed + to join me on so much the more; and when I thought of the words in church, + they seemed, somehow, to float on me so much more than ever before, and it + was like the minster, and your voice. I should not have minded dying so + much after that.” + </p> + <p> + At last, Harry’s Black Prince had hurried into the hut with the tidings + that his English father’s ship was in the bay, and soon English voices + again sounded in his ears, bringing the forlorn boy such warmth of + kindness that he could hardly believe himself a mere stranger. If Alan + could but have shared the joy with him! + </p> + <p> + He was carried down to the boat in the cool of the evening, and paused on + the way, for a last farewell to the lonely grave under the palm tree-one + of the many sailors’ graves scattered from the tropics to the poles, and + which might be the first seed in a “God’s acre” to that island, becoming + what the graves of holy men of old are to us. + </p> + <p> + A short space more of kind care from his new friends and his Christian + chief, and Harry awoke from a feverish doze at sounds that seemed so like + a dream of home, that he was unwilling to break them by rousing himself; + but they approved themselves as real, and he found himself in the embrace + of his mother’s sister. + </p> + <p> + And here Mrs. Arnott’s story began, of the note that reached her in the + early morning with tidings that her nephew had been picked up by the + mission-ship, and how she and her husband had hastened at once on board. + </p> + <p> + “They sent me below to see a hero,” she wrote. “What I saw was a scarecrow + sort of likeness of you, dear Richard; but, when he opened his eyes, there + was our Maggie smiling at me. I suppose he would not forgive me for + telling how he sobbed and cried, when he had his arms round my neck, and + his poor aching head on my shoulder. Poor fellow, he was very weak, and I + believe he felt, for the moment, as if he had found his mother. + </p> + <p> + “We brought him home with us, but when the next mail went, the fever was + still so high, that I thought it would be only alarm to you to write, and + I had not half a story either, though you may guess how proud I was of my + nephew.” + </p> + <p> + Harry’s troubles were all over from that time. He had thenceforth to + recover under his aunt’s motherly care, while talking endlessly over the + home that she loved almost as well as he did. He was well more quickly + than she had ventured to hope, and nothing could check his impatience to + reach his home, not even the hopes of having his aunt for a companion. The + very happiness he enjoyed with her only made him long the more ardently to + be with his own family; and he had taken his leave of her, and of his dear + David, and sailed by the first packet leaving Auckland. + </p> + <p> + “I never knew what the old Great Bear was to me till I saw him again!” + said Harry. + </p> + <p> + It was late when the elders had finished all that was to be heard at + present, and the clock reminded them that they must part. + </p> + <p> + “And you go to-morrow?” sighed Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “I must. Jennings has to go on to Portsmouth, and see after his son.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, let me see Jennings!” exclaimed Margaret. “May I not, papa?” + </p> + <p> + Richard, who had been making friends with Jennings, whenever he had not + been needed by his sisters that afternoon, went to fetch him from the + kitchen, where all the servants, and all their particular friends, were + listening to the yarn that made them hold their heads higher, as belonging + to Master Harry. + </p> + <p> + Harry stepped forward, met Jennings, and said, aside, “My sister, + Jennings; my sister that you have heard of.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May had already seen the sailor, but he could not help addressing him + again. “Come in; come in, and see my boy among us all. Without you, we + never should have had him.” + </p> + <p> + “Make him come to me,” said Margaret breathlessly, as the embarrassed + sailor stood, sleeking down his hair; and, when he had advanced to her + couch, she looked up in his face, and put her hand into his great brown + one. + </p> + <p> + “I could not help saying thank you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. May, sir!” cried Jennings, almost crying, and looking round for + Harry, as a sort of protector—“tell them, sir, please, it was only + my duty—I could not do no less, and you knows it, sir,” as if Harry + had been making an accusation against him. + </p> + <p> + “We know you could not,” said Margaret, “and that is what we would thank + you for, if we could. I know he—Mr. Ernescliffe—must have been + much more at rest for leaving my brother with so kind a friend, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Please, miss, don’t say no more about it. Mr. Ernescliffe was as fine an + officer as ever stepped a quarter-deck, and Mr. May here won’t fall short + of him; and was I to be after leaving the like of them to the mercy of the + black fellows—that was not so bad neither? If it had only pleased + God that we had brought them both back to you, miss; but, you see, a man + can’t be everything at once, and Mr. Ernescliffe was not so stout as his + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “You did everything, we know—” began Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “‘Twas a real pleasure,” said Jennings hastily, “for two such real + gentlemen as they was. Mr. May, sir, I beg your pardon if I say it to your + face, never flinched, nor spoke a word of complaint, through it all; and, + as to the other—” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret cannot bear this,” said Richard, coming near. “It is too much.” + </p> + <p> + The sailor shook his head, and was retreating, but Margaret signed him to + come near again, and grasped his hand. Harry followed him out of the room, + to arrange their journey, and presently returned. + </p> + <p> + “He says he is glad he has seen Margaret; he says she is the right sort of + stuff for Mr. Ernescliffe.” + </p> + <p> + Harry had not intended Margaret to hear, but she caught the words, smiled + radiantly, and whispered, “I wish I may be!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + Margaret had borne the meeting much too well for her own good, and a + wakeful night of palpitation was the consequence; but she would not allow + any one to take it to heart, and declared that she should be ready to + enjoy Harry by the time he should return, and meantime, she should dwell + on the delight of his meeting Flora. + </p> + <p> + No one had rested too soundly that night, and Dr. May had not been able to + help looking in at his sleeping boy at five in the morning, to certify + himself that he had not only figured his present bliss to himself, in his + ten minutes’ dream. And looking in again at half-past seven, he found + Harry half dressed, with his arm round Mary; laughing, almost sobbing, + over the treasures in his cupboard, which he had newly discovered in their + fresh order. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May looked like a new man that morning, with his brightened eye and + bearing, as if there were a well-spring of joy within him, ready to brim + over at once in tear and in smile, and finding an outlet in the praise and + thanksgiving that his spirit chanted, and his face expressed, and in that + sunny genial benevolence that must make all share his joy. + </p> + <p> + He was going to run over half the town—every one would like to hear + it from him; Ethel and Mary must go to the rest—the old women in the + almshouses, where lived an old cook who used to be fond of Harry—they + should have a feast; all who were well enough in the hospital should have + a tea-drinking; Dr. Hoxton had already granted a holiday to the school; + every boy with whom they had any connection should come to dinner, and + Edward Anderson should be asked to meet Harry on his return, because, poor + fellow, he was so improved. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May was in such a transport of kind-hearted schemes, that he was not + easily made to hear that Harry had not a sixpence wherewith to reach + London. + </p> + <p> + Ethel, meanwhile, was standing beside her brother tendering to him some + gold, as his last quarter. + </p> + <p> + “How did you get it, Ethel? do you keep the purse?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but papa took Cocksmoor in your stead, when—” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Ethel,” said Harry; “I don’t want it. Have I not all my pay and + allowance for the whole time I was dead? And as to robbing Cocksmoor—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, keep it, Ethel,” said her father; “do you think I would take it now, + when if there were a thank-offering in the world.—And, by the bye, + your Cocksmoor children must have something to remember this by—” + </p> + <p> + Every one could have envied Norman, for travelling to London with Harry, + but that he must proceed to Oxford in two days, when Harry would return to + them. The station-master, thinking he could not do enough for the returned + mariner, put the two brothers into the coupe, as if they had been a bridal + couple, and they were very glad of the privacy, having, as yet, hardly + spoken to each other, when Harry’s attention was dispersed among so many. + </p> + <p> + Norman asked many questions about the mission work in the southern + hemisphere, and ended by telling his brother of his design, which met with + Harry’s hearty approbation. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right, old June. There’s nothing they want so much, as such as + you. How glad my aunt will be! Perhaps you will see David! Oh, if you were + to go out to the Loyalty group!” + </p> + <p> + “Very possibly I might,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Tell them you are my brother, and how they will receive you! I can see + the mop-heads they will dress in honour of you, and what a feast of pork + and yams you will have to eat! But there is plenty of work among the + Maoris for you—they want a clergyman terribly at the next village to + my uncle’s place. I say, Norman, it will go hard if I don’t get a ship + bound for the Pacific, and come and see you.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall reckon on you. That is, if I have not to stay to help my father.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” exclaimed Harry; “I thought you would have stayed at home, + and married little Miss Rivers!” + </p> + <p> + Thus broadly and boyishly did he plunge into that most tender subject, + making his brother start and wince, as if he had touched a wound. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” he cried, almost angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Well! you used to seem very much smitten, but so, to be sure, were some + of the Alcestes with the young ladies at Valparaiso. How we used to roast + Owen about that Spanish Donna, and he was as bad at Sydney about the young + lady whose father, we told him, was a convict, though he kept such a swell + carriage. He had no peace about his father-in-law, the house-breaker! + Don’t I remember how you pinched her hand the night you were righted!” + </p> + <p> + “You know nothing about it,” said Norman shortly. “She is far beyond my + reach.” + </p> + <p> + “A fine lady? Ha! Well, I should have thought you as good as Flora any + day,” said Harry indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “She is what she always was,” said Norman, anxious to silence him; “but it + is unreasonable to think of it. She is all but engaged to Sir Henry + Walkinghame.” + </p> + <p> + “Walkinghame!” cried the volatile sailor. “I have half a mind to send in + my name to Flora as Miss Walkinghame!” and he laughed heartily over that + adventure, ending, however, with a sigh, as he said, “It had nearly cost + me a great deal! But tell me, Norman, how has that Meta, as they called + her, turned out? I never saw anything prettier or nicer than she was that + day of the Roman encampment, and I should be sorry if that fine + fashionable aunt of hers, had made her stuck-up and disdainful.” + </p> + <p> + “No such thing,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said Harry to himself, “I see how it is! She has gone and made poor + old June unhappy, with her scornful airs—a little impertinent puss!—I + wonder Flora does not teach her better manners.” + </p> + <p> + Norman, meanwhile, as the train sped over roofs, and among chimneys, was + reproaching himself for running into the fascination of her presence, and + then recollecting that her situation, as well as his destiny, both + guaranteed that they could meet only as friendly connections. + </p> + <p> + No carriage awaited them at the station, which surprised Norman, till he + recollected that the horses had probably been out all day, and it was + eight o’clock. Going to Park Lane in a cab, the brothers were further + surprised to find themselves evidently not expected. The butler came to + speak to them, saying that Mr. and Mrs. Rivers were gone out to dinner, + but would return, probably, at about eleven o’clock. He conducted them + upstairs, Harry following his brother, in towering vexation and + disappointment, trying to make him turn to hear that they would go + directly—home—to Eton—anywhere—why would he go in + at all? + </p> + <p> + The door was opened, Mr. May was announced, and they were in a silk-lined + boudoir, where a little slender figure in black started up, and came + forward with outstretched hand. + </p> + <p> + “Norman!” she cried, “how are you? Are you come on your way to Oxford?” + </p> + <p> + “Has not Flora had Mary’s letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she said she had one. She was keeping it till she had time to read + it.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, Meta had given her hand to Harry, as it was evidently + expected; she raised her eyes to his face, and said, smiling’ and + blushing, “I am sure I ought to know you, but I am afraid I don’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Look again,” said Norman. “See if you have ever seen him before.” + </p> + <p> + Laughing, glancing, and casting down her eyes, she raised them with a + sudden start of joy, but colouring more deeply, said, “Indeed, I cannot + remember. I dare say I ought.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you see a likeness,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I see,” she answered, faltering; but perceiving how bright were + the looks of both, “No? Impossible! Yes, it is!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is,” said both brothers with one voice. She clasped her hands, + absolutely bounded with transport, then grasped both Harry’s hands, and + then Norman’s, her whole countenance radiant with joy and sympathy beyond + expression. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear Dr. May!” was her first exclamation. “Oh, how happy you must + all be! And Margaret?” She looked up at Norman, and came nearer. “Is not + Mr. Ernescliffe come?” she asked softly, and trembling. + </p> + <p> + “No,” was the low answer, which Harry could not bear to hear, and + therefore walked to the window. “No, Meta, but Margaret is much comforted + about him. He died in great peace—in his arms”—as he signed + towards his brother. And as Harry continued to gaze out on the stars of + gas on the opposite side of the park, he was able to add a few of the + particulars. + </p> + <p> + Meta’s eyes glistened with tears, as she said, “Perhaps it would have been + too perfect if he had come; but oh, Norman! how good she is to bear it so + patiently! And how gloriously he behaved! How can we make enough of him! + And Flora out! how sorry she will be!” + </p> + <p> + “And she never opened Mary’s letter,” said Harry, coming back to them. + </p> + <p> + “She little thought what it contained,” said Meta. “Mary’s letters are apt + to bear keeping, you know, and she was so busy, that she laid it aside for + a treat after the day’s work. But there! inhospitable wretch that I am! + you have had no dinner!” + </p> + <p> + A refection of tea and cold meat was preferred, and in her own pretty + manner Meta lavished her welcomes, trying to cover any pain given by + Flora’s neglect. + </p> + <p> + “What makes her so busy?” asked Harry, looking round on the beautifully + furnished apartment, which, to many eyes besides those fresh from a + Milanesian hut, might have seemed a paradise of luxurious ease. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what an important lady you have for a sister,” said Meta + merrily. + </p> + <p> + “But tell me, what can she have to do? I thought you London ladies had + nothing to do, but to sit with your hands before you entertaining + company.” + </p> + <p> + Meta laughed heartily. “Shall I begin at the beginning? I’ll describe + to-day then, and you must understand that this is what Tom would call a + mild specimen—only one evening engagement. Though, perhaps, I ought + to start from last night at twelve o’clock, when she was at the Austrian + Ambassador’s ball, and came home at two; but she was up by eight—she + always manages to get through her housekeeping matters before breakfast. + At nine, breakfast, and baby—by the bye, you have never inquired for + our niece.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not come to believe in her yet,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Seeing is believing,” said Meta; “but no, I won’t take an unfair + advantage over her mamma; and she will be fast asleep; I never knew a + child sleep as she does. So to go on with our day. The papers come, and + Miss Leonora is given over to me; for you must know we are wonderful + politicians. Flora studies all the debates till George finds out what he + has heard in the House, and baby and I profit. Baby goes out walking, and + the post comes. Flora always goes to the study with George, and writes, + and does all sorts of things for him. She is the most useful wife in the + world. At twelve, we had our singing lesson—” + </p> + <p> + “Singing lesson!” exclaimed Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you know she has a pretty voice, and she is glad to cultivate it. It + is very useful at parties, but it takes up a great deal of time, and with + all I can do to save her in note-writing, the morning is gone directly. + After luncheon, she had to ride with George, and came back in a hurry to + make some canvassing calls about the orphan asylum, and Miss Bracy’s + sister. If we get her in at all, it will be Flora’s diplomacy. And there + was shopping to do, and when we came in hoping for time for our letters, + there were the Walkinghames, who stayed a long time, so that Flora could + only despatch the most important notes, before George came in and wanted + her. She was reading something for him all the time she was dressing, but, + as I say, this is quite a quiet day.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Harry, with a gesture of oppression, “it sounds harder than + cleaning knives, like Aunt Flora! And what is an unquiet day like?” + </p> + <p> + “You will see, for we have a great evening party to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you always stay at home?” asked Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Not always, but I do not go to large parties or balls this year,” said + Meta, glancing at her deep mourning; “I am very glad of a little time at + home.” + </p> + <p> + “So you don’t like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! it is very pleasant,” said Meta. “It is so entertaining when we + talk it over afterwards, and I like to hear how Flora is admired, and + called the beauty of the season. I tell George, and we do so gloat over it + together! There was an old French marquis the other night, a dear old man, + quite of the ancien regime, who said she was exactly like the portraits of + Madame de Maintenon, and produced a beautiful miniature on a snuff-box, + positively like that very pretty form of face of hers. The old man even + declared that Mistress Rivers was worthy to be a Frenchwoman.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to kick him!” amiably responded Harry. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you won’t to-morrow! But don’t let us waste our time over this; I + want so much to hear about New Zealand.” + </p> + <p> + Meta was well read in Australasian literature, and drew out a great deal + more information from Harry than Norman had yet heard. She made him talk + about the Maori pah near his uncle’s farm, where the Sunday services were + conducted by an old gentleman tattooed elegantly in the face, but dressed + like an English clergyman; and tell of his aunt’s troubles about the + younger generation, whom their elders, though Christians themselves, could + not educate, and who she feared would relapse into heathenism, for want of + instruction, though with excellent dispositions. + </p> + <p> + “How glad you must be that you are likely to go!” exclaimed Meta to + Norman, who had sat silently listening. + </p> + <p> + The sound of the door bell was the first intimation that Harry’s histories + had occupied them until long past twelve o’clock. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then!” cried Meta, springing forward, as if intending to meet Flora + with the tidings, but checking herself, as if she ought not to be the + first. There was a pause. Flora was hearing downstairs that Mr. Norman May + and another gentleman had arrived, and, while vexed at her own omission, + and annoyed at Norman’s bringing friends without waiting for permission, + she was yet prepared to be courteous and amiable. She entered in her rich + black watered silk, deeply trimmed with lace, and with silver ornaments in + her dark hair, so graceful and distinguished-looking, that Harry stood + suspended, hesitating, for an instant, whether he beheld his own sister, + especially as she made a dignified inclination towards him, offering her + hand to Norman, as she said, “Meta has told you—” But there she + broke off, exclaiming, “Ha! is it possible! No, surely it cannot be—” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Walkinghame?” said the sailor, who had felt at home with her at the + first word, and she flew into his great rough arms. + </p> + <p> + “Harry! this is dear Harry! our own dear sailor come back,” cried she, as + her husband stood astonished; and, springing towards him, she put Harry’s + hand into his, “My brother Harry! our dear lost one.” + </p> + <p> + “Your—brother—Harry,” slowly pronounced George, as he + instinctively gave the grasp of greeting—“your brother that was + lost? Upon my word,” as the matter dawned fully on him, and he became + eager, “I am very glad to see you. I never was more rejoiced in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you come? Have you been at home?” asked Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I came home yesterday—Mary wrote to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor dear old Mary! There’s a lesson against taking a letter on trust. I + thought it would be all Cocksmoor, and would wait for a quiet moment! How + good to come to me so soon, you dear old shipwrecked mariner!” + </p> + <p> + “I was forced to come to report myself,” said Harry, “or I could not have + come away from my father so soon.” + </p> + <p> + The usual questions and their sad answers ensued, and while Flora talked + to Harry, fondly holding his hand, Norman and Meta explained the history + to George, who no sooner comprehended it, that he opined it must have been + a horrid nuisance, and that Harry was a gallant fellow; then striking him + over the shoulder, welcomed him home with all his kind heart, told him he + was proud to receive him, and falling into a state of rapturous + hospitality, rang the bell, and wanted to order all sorts of eatables and + drinkables, but was sadly baffled to find him already satisfied. + </p> + <p> + There was more open joy than even at home, and Flora was supremely happy + as she sat between her brothers, listening and inquiring till far past one + o’clock, when she perceived poor George dozing off, awakened every now and + then by a great nod, and casting a wishful glance of resigned + remonstrance, as if to appeal against sitting up all night. + </p> + <p> + The meeting at breakfast was a renewal of pleasure. Flora was proud and + happy in showing off her little girl, a model baby, as she called her, a + perfect doll for quietness, so that she could be brought in at family + prayers; “and,” said Flora, “I am the more glad that she keeps no one + away, because we can only have evening prayers on Sunday. It is a serious + thing to arrange for such a household.” + </p> + <p> + “She is equal to anything,” said George. + </p> + <p> + The long file of servants marched in, George read sonorously, and Flora + rose from her knees, highly satisfied at the impression produced upon her + brothers. + </p> + <p> + “I like to have the baby with us at breakfast,” she said; “it is the only + time of day when we can be sure of seeing anything of her, and I like her + nurse to have some respite. Do you think her grown, Norman?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very much,” said Norman, who thought her more inanimate and like a + pretty little waxen toy, than when he had last seen her. “Is she not + rather pale?” + </p> + <p> + “London makes children pale. I shall soon take her home to acquire a + little colour. You must know Sir Henry has bitten us with his yachting + tastes, and as soon as we can leave London, we are going to spend six + weeks with the Walkinghames at Ryde, and rival you, Harry. I think Miss + Leonora will be better at home, so we must leave her there. Lodgings and + irregularities don’t suit people of her age.” + </p> + <p> + “Does home mean Stoneborough?” asked Norman. + </p> + <p> + “No. Old nurse has one of her deadly prejudices against Preston, and I + would not be responsible for the consequences of shutting them up in the + same nursery. Margaret would be distracted between them. No, miss, you + shall make her a visit every day, and be fondled by your grandpapa.” + </p> + <p> + George began a conversation with Harry on nautical matters, and Norman + tried to discover how Meta liked the yachting project, and found her + prepared to think it charming. Hopes were expressed that Harry might be at + Portsmouth, and a quantity of gay scheming ensued, with reiterations of + the name of Walkinghame; while Norman had a sense of being wrapped in some + gray mist, excluding him from participation in their enjoyments, and + condemned his own temper as frivolous for being thus excited to + discontent. + </p> + <p> + Presently, he heard George insisting that he and Harry should return in + time for the evening party; and, on beginning to refuse, was amazed to + find Harry’s only objection was on the score of lack of uniform. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want you in one, sir,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I have only one coat in the world, besides this,” continued Harry, “and + that is all over tar.” + </p> + <p> + “George will see to that,” said Flora. “Don’t you think you would be + welcome in matting, with an orange cowry round your neck?” + </p> + <p> + Norman, however, took a private opportunity of asking Harry if he was + aware of what he was undertaking, and what kind of people they should + meet. + </p> + <p> + “All English people behave much the same in a room,” said Harry, as if all + society, provided it was not cannibal, were alike to him. + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought you would prefer finding out Forder in his + chambers, or going to one of the theatres.” + </p> + <p> + “As you please,” said Harry; “but Flora seems to want us, and I should + rather like to see what sort of company she keeps.” + </p> + <p> + Since Harry was impervious to shyness, Norman submitted, and George took + them to a wonder-worker in cloth, who undertook that full equipments + should await the young gentleman. Harry next despatched his business at + the Admiralty, and was made very happy by tidings of his friend Owen’s + safe arrival in America. + </p> + <p> + Thence the brothers went to Eton, where home letters had been more + regarded; and Dr. May having written to secure a holiday for the objects + of their visit, they were met at the station by the two boys. Hector’s red + face and prominent light eyebrows were instantly recognised; but, as to + Tom, Harry could hardly believe that the little, dusty, round-backed grub + be had left had been transformed into the well-made gentlemanlike lad + before him, peculiarly trim and accurate in dress, even to the extent of + as much foppery as Eton taste permitted. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes had not passed before Tom, taking a survey of the newcomer, + began to exclaim at Norman, for letting him go about such a figure; and, + before they knew what was doing, they had all been conducted into the shop + of the “only living man who knew how to cut hair.” Laughing and + good-natured, Harry believed his hair was “rather long,” allowed himself + to be seated, and to be divested of a huge superfluous mass of sun-dried + curls, which Tom, particularly resenting that “rather long,” kept on + taking up, and unrolling from their tight rings, to measure the number of + inches. + </p> + <p> + “That is better,” said he, as they issued from the shop; “but, as to that + coat of yours, the rogue who made it should never make another. Where + could you have picked it up?” + </p> + <p> + “At a shop at Auckland,” said Harry, much amused. + </p> + <p> + “Kept by a savage?” said Tom, to whom it was no laughing matter. “See that + seam!” + </p> + <p> + “Have done, May!” exclaimed Hector. “He will think you a tailor’s + apprentice!” + </p> + <p> + “Or worse,” said Norman. “Rivers’s tailor kept all strictures to himself.” + </p> + <p> + Tom muttered that he only wanted Harry to be fit to be seen by the + fellows. + </p> + <p> + “The fellows are not such asses as you!” cried Hector. “You don’t deserve + that he should come to see you. If my—” + </p> + <p> + There poor Hector broke off. If his own only brother had been walking + beside him, how would he not have felt? They had reached their tutor’s + house, and, opening his own door, he made an imploring sign to Harry to + enter with him. On the table lay a letter from Margaret, and another which + Harry had written to him from Auckland. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Harry, you were with him,” he said; “tell me all about him.” + </p> + <p> + And he established himself, with his face hidden on the table, uttering + nothing, except, “Go on,” whenever Harry’s voice failed in the narration. + When something was said of “all for the best,” he burst out, “He might say + so. I suppose one ought to think so. But is not it hard, when I had nobody + but him? And there was Maplewood; and I might have been so happy there, + with him and Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “They say nothing could have made Margaret well,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care; he would have married her all the same, and we should have + made her so happy at Maplewood. I hate the place! I wish it were at + Jericho!” + </p> + <p> + “You are captain of the ship now,” said Harry, “and you must make the best + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t. It will never be home. Home is with Margaret, and the rest of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “So Alan said he hoped you would make it; and you are just like one of us, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the use of that, when Captain Gordon will not let me go near you. + Taking me to that abominable Maplewood last Easter, with half the house + shut up, and all horrid! And he is as dry as a stick!” + </p> + <p> + “The captain!” cried Harry angrily. “There’s not a better captain to sail + with in the whole navy, and your brother would be the first to tell you + so! I’m not discharged yet. Hector—you had better look out what you + say!” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he is the best to sail with, but that is not being the best to live + with,” said the heir of Maplewood disconsolately. “Alan himself always + said he never knew what home was, till he got to your father and + Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “So will you,” said Harry; “why, my father is your master, or whatever you + may call it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Captain Gordon is my guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! what’s become of the will then?” + </p> + <p> + “What will?” cried Hector. “Did Alan make one after all?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay. At Valparaiso, he had a touch of fever; I went ashore to nurse him, + to a merchant’s, who took us in for love of our Scottish blood. Mr. + Ernescliffe made a will there, and left it in his charge.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he made Dr. May my guardian?” + </p> + <p> + “He asked me whether I thought he would dislike it, and I told him, no.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right!” cried Hector. “That’s like dear old Alan! I shall get back + to the doctor and Margaret after all. Mind you write to the captain, + Harry!” + </p> + <p> + Hector was quite inspirited and ready to return to the others, but Harry + paused to express a hope that he did not let Tom make such a fool of + himself as he had done to-day. + </p> + <p> + “Not he,” said Hector. “He is liked as much as any one in the house—he + has been five times sent up for good. See there in the Eton list! He is a + real clever fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but what’s the good of all that, if you let him be a puppy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’ll be cured. A fellow that has been a sloven always is a puppy for + a bit,” said Hector philosophically. + </p> + <p> + Norman was meantime taking Tom to task for these same airs, and, hearing + it was from the desire to see his brother respectable—Stoneborough + men never cared for what they looked like, and he must have Harry do + himself credit. + </p> + <p> + “You need not fear,” said Norman. “He did not require Eton to make him a + gentleman. How now? Why, Tom, old man, you are not taking that to heart? + That’s all over long ago.” + </p> + <p> + For that black spot in his life had never passed out of the lad’s memory, + and it might be from the lurking want of self-respect that there was about + him so much of self-assertion, in attention to trifles. He was very + reserved, and no one except Norman had ever found the way to anything like + confidence, and Norman had vexed him by the proposal he had made in the + holidays. + </p> + <p> + He made no answer, but stood looking at Norman with an odd undecided gaze. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what now, old fellow?” said Norman, half fearing “that” might not + be absolutely over. “One would think you were not glad to see Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he has made you all the more set upon that mad notion of + yours,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “So far as making me feel that that part of the world has a strong claim + on us,” replied Norman. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure you don’t look as if you found your pleasure in it,” cried Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Pleasure is not what I seek,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you?” said Tom. “You said I did not seem rejoiced—you + look worse, I am sure.” Tom put his arm on Norman’s shoulder, and looked + solicitously at him—demonstrations of affection very rare with him. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder which would really make you happiest, to have your own way, and + go to these black villains—” + </p> + <p> + “Remember, that but for others who have done so, Harry—” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw,” said Tom, rubbing some invisible dust from his coat sleeve. “If + it would keep you at home, I would say I never would hear of doctoring.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you had said so.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the use of my coming here, if I’m to be a country doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “I have told you I do not mean to victimise you. If you have a distaste to + it, there’s an end of it—I am quite ready.” + </p> + <p> + Tom gave a great sigh. “No,” he said, “if I must, I must; I don’t mind the + part of it that you do. I only hate the name of it, and the being tied + down to a country place like that, while you go out thousands of miles off + to these savages; but if it is the only thing to content you, I wont stand + in your way. I can’t bear your looking disconsolate.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t think yourself bound, if you really dislike the profession.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t,” said Tom. “It is my free choice. If it were not for horrid sick + people, I should like it.” + </p> + <p> + Promising! it must be confessed! + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Tom had expected Norman to brighten at once, but it was a + fallacious hope. The gaining his point involved no pleasant prospect, and + his young brother’s moody devotion to him suggested scruples whether he + ought to exact the sacrifice, though, in his own mind, convinced that it + was Tom’s vocation; and knowing that would give him many of the advantages + of an eldest son. + </p> + <p> + Eton fully justified Hector’s declaration that it would not regard the cut + of Harry’s coat. The hero of a lost ship and savage isle was the object of + universal admiration and curiosity, and inestimable were the favours + conferred by Hector and Tom in giving introductions to him, till he had + shaken hands with half the school, and departed amid deafening cheers. + </p> + <p> + In spite of Harry, the day had been long and heavy to Norman, and though + he chid himself for his depression, he shrank from the sight of Meta and + Sir Henry Walkinghame together, and was ready to plead an aching head as + an excuse for not appearing at the evening party; but, besides that this + might attract notice, he thought himself bound to take care of Harry in so + new a world, where the boy must be at a great loss. + </p> + <p> + “I say, old June,” cried a voice at his door, “are you ready?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not begun dressing yet. Will you wait?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I. The fun is beginning.” + </p> + <p> + Norman heard the light foot scampering downstairs, and prepared to follow, + to assume the protection of him. + </p> + <p> + Music sounded as Norman left his room, and he turned aside to avoid the + stream of company flowing up the flower-decked stairs, and made his way + into the rooms through Flora’s boudoir. He was almost dazzled by the + bright lights, and the gay murmurs of the brilliant throng. Young ladies + with flowers and velvet streamers down their backs, old ladies portly and + bejewelled, gentlemen looking civil, abounded wherever he turned his eyes. + He could see Flora’s graceful head bending as she received guest after + guest, and the smile with which she answered congratulations on her + brother’s return; but Harry he did not so quickly perceive, and he was + trying to discover in what corner he might have hidden himself, when Meta + stood beside him, asking whether their Eton journey had prospered, and how + poor Hector was feeling at Harry’s return. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Harry?” asked Norman. “Is he not rather out of his element?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” said Meta, smiling. “Why, he is the lion of the night!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow, how he must hate it!” + </p> + <p> + “Come this way, into the front room. There, look at him—is it not + nice to see him, so perfectly simple and at his ease, neither shy nor + elated? And what a fine-looking fellow he is!” + </p> + <p> + Meta might well say so. The trim, well-knit, broad-chested form, the rosy + embrowned honest face, the shining light-brown curly locks, the dancing + well-opened blue eyes, and merry hearty smile showed to the best + advantage, in array that even Tom would not have spurned, put on with + naval neatness; and his attitude and manner were so full of manly ease, + that it was no wonder that every eye rested on him with pleasure. Norman + smiled at his own mistake, and asked who were the lady and gentleman + conversing with him. Meta mentioned one of the most distinguished of + English names, and shared his amusement in seeing Harry talking to them + with the same frank unembarrassed ease as when he had that morning shaken + hands with their son, in the capacity of Hector Ernescliffe’s fag. No one + present inspired him with a tithe of the awe he felt for a post-captain—it + was simply a pleasant assembly of good-natured folks, glad to welcome home + a battered sailor, and of pretty girls, for whom he had a sailor’s + admiration, but without forwardness or presumption—all in happy + grateful simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you cannot dance?” said Flora to him. + </p> + <p> + “I!” was Harry’s interjection; and while she was looking round for a + partner to whom to present him, he had turned to the young daughter of his + new acquaintance, and had her on his arm, unconscious that George had been + making his way to her. + </p> + <p> + Flora was somewhat uneasy, but the mother was looking on smiling, and + expressed her delight in the young midshipman; and Mrs. Rivers, while + listening gladly to his praises, watched heedfully, and was reassured to + see that dancing was as natural to him as everything else; his steps were + light as a feather, his movement all freedom and joy, without being + boisterous, and his boyish chivalry as pretty a sight as any one could + wish to see. + </p> + <p> + If the rest of the world enjoyed their dances a quarter as much as did + “Mr. May,” they were enviable people, and he contributed not a little to + their pleasure, if merely by the sight of his blithe freshness and + spirited simplicity, as well as the general sympathy with his sister’s + joy, and the interest in his adventures. He would have been a general + favourite, if he had been far less personally engaging; as it was, every + young lady was in raptures at dancing with him, and he did his best to + dance with them all; and to try to stir up Norman, who, after Meta had + been obliged to leave him, and go to act her share of the part of hostess, + had disposed of himself against a wall, where he might live out the night. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! June! what makes you stand sentry there? Come and dance, and have + some of the fun! Some of these girls are the nicest partners in the world. + There’s that Lady Alice, something with the dangling things in her hair, + sitting down now—famous at a polka. Come along, I’ll introduce you. + It will do you good.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of dancing,” said Norman, beginning to apprehend that he + might be dragged off, as often he had been to cricket or football, and by + much the same means. + </p> + <p> + “Comes by nature, when you hear the music. Ha! what a delicious polka! + Come along, or I must be off! She will be waiting for me, and she is the + second prettiest girl here! Come!” + </p> + <p> + “I have been trying to make something of him, Harry,” said the ubiquitous + Flora, “but I don’t know whether it is mauvaise honte, or headache.” + </p> + <p> + “I see! Poor old June!” cried Harry. “I’ll get you an ice at once, old + fellow! Nothing like one for setting a man going!” + </p> + <p> + Before Norman could protest, Harry had flown off. + </p> + <p> + “Flora,” asked Norman, “is—are the Walkinghames here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Don’t you see Sir Henry. That fine-looking man with the black + moustache. I want you to know him. He is a great admirer of your prize + poem and of Dr. Spencer.” + </p> + <p> + Harry returning, administered his ice, and then darted off to excuse + himself to his partner, by explanations about his brother, whom everybody + must have heard of, as he was the cleverest fellow living, and had written + the best prize poem ever heard at Oxford. He firmly believed Norman a much + greater lion than himself. + </p> + <p> + Norman was forced to leave his friendly corner to dispose of the glass of + his ice, and thus encountered Miss Rivers, of whom Sir Henry was asking + questions about a beautiful collection of cameos, which Flora had laid out + as a company trap. + </p> + <p> + “Here is Norman May,” said Meta; “he knows them better than I do. Do you + remember which of these is the head of Diana, Norman?” + </p> + <p> + Having set the two gentlemen to discuss them, she glided away on fresh + hospitable duties, while Norman repeated the comments that he had so + enjoyed hearing from poor Mr. Rivers, hoping he was, at least, sparing + Meta some pain, and wondering that Flora should have risked hurting her + feelings by exposing these treasures to the general gaze. + </p> + <p> + If Norman were wearied by Sir Henry, it was his own fault, for the baronet + was a very agreeable person, who thought a first-class man worth + cultivation, so that the last half-hour might have compensated for all the + rest, if conversation were always the test. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Meta,” cried Harry, coming up to her, “you have not once danced! We + are a sort of brother and sister, to be sure, but that is no hindrance, is + it?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Meta, smiling, “thank you, Harry, but you must find some one + more worthy. I do not dance this season; at least, not in public. When we + get home, who knows what we may do?” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t dance! Poor little Meta! And you don’t go out! What a pity!” + </p> + <p> + “I had rather not work quite so hard,” said Meta. “Think what good fortune + I had by staying at home last night!” + </p> + <p> + “I declare!” exclaimed Harry, bewitched by the beaming congratulation of + her look, “I can’t imagine why Norman had said you had turned into a fine + lady! I can’t see a bit of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Norman said I had turned into a fine lady!” repeated Meta. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind! I don’t think so; you are just like papa’s humming-bird, as + you always were, not a bit more of a fine lady than any girl here, and I + am sure papa would say so. Only old June had got a bad headache, and is in + one of his old dumps, such as I hoped he had left off. But he can’t help + it, poor fellow, and he will come out of it, by and by—so never + mind. Hallo! why people are going away already. There’s that girl without + any one to hand her downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + Away ran Harry, and presently the brothers and sisters gathered round the + fire—George declaring that he was glad that nuisance was so well + over, and Harry exclaiming, “Well done, Flora! It was capital fun! I never + saw a lot of prettier or more good-natured people in my life. If I am at + home for the Stoneborough ball, I wonder whether my father will let me go + to it.” + </p> + <p> + This result of Harry’s successful debut in high life struck his sister and + Norman as so absurd that both laughed. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter now?” asked Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Your comparing Flora’s party to a Stoneborough ball,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “It is all the same, isn’t it?” said Harry. “I’m sure you are equally + disgusted at both!” + </p> + <p> + “Much you know about it,” said Flora, patting him gaily. “I’m not going to + put conceit in that lion head of yours, but you were as good as an Indian + prince to my party. Do you know to whom you have been talking so coolly?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. You see, Norman, it is just as I told you. All civilised + people are just alike when they get into a drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry takes large views of the Genus homo,” Norman exerted himself to + say. “Being used to the black and brown species, he takes little heed of + the lesser varieties.” + </p> + <p> + “It is enough for him that he does not furnish the entertainment in + another way,” said Flora. “But, good-night. Meta, you look tired.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let none, henceforward, shrink from daring dreams, + For earnest hearts shall find their dreams fulfilled.—FOUQUE. +</pre> + <p> + “I have it!” began Harry, as he came down to breakfast. “I don’t know how + I came to forget it. The will was to be sent home to Mr. Mackintosh’s + English partner. I’ll go and overhaul him this very morning. They won’t + mind my coming by a later train, when there is such a reason.” + </p> + <p> + “What is his name? Where shall you find him?” asked Flora. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t be sure; but you’ve a navy list of that sort of cattle, have not + you, Flora? I’ll hunt him up.” + </p> + <p> + Flora supposed he meant a directory; and all possible South American + merchants having been overlooked, and the Mackintoshes selected, he next + required a chart of London, and wanted to attempt self-navigation, but was + forced to accept of George’s brougham and escort; Flora would not trust + him otherwise; and Norman was obliged to go to Oxford at once, hurrying + off to his train before breakfast was over. + </p> + <p> + Flora might have trusted Harry alone. George contributed no more than the + dignity of his presence; and, indeed, would have resigned the pursuit at + the first blunder about the firm; and still more when the right one had + been found, but the partner proved crusty, and would not believe that any + such document was in his hands. George was consenting to let it rest till + Mr. Mackintosh could be written to; but Harry, outrunning his management, + and regardless of rebuffs, fairly teased the old gentleman into a search, + as the only means of getting rid of the troublesome sailor. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of George’s civil regrets at the fruitless trouble they were + causing, forth came a bundle of papers, and forth from the bundle fell a + packet, on which Harry pounced as he read, “Will of Alan Halliday + Ernescliffe, Esquire, of Maplewood, Yorkshire, Lieutenant in H. M. S. + Alcestis,” and, in the corner, the executors’ names, Captain John Gordon, + of H. M. S. Alcestis; and Richard May, Esquire, M. D., Market + Stoneborough. + </p> + <p> + As if in revenge, the prudent merchant would not be induced to entrust him + with the document, saying he could not give it up till he had heard from + the executors, and had been certified of the death of the testator. He + withstood both the angry gentlemen, who finally departed in a state of + great resentment—Harry declaring that the old land-lubber would not + believe that he was his own father’s son; and Mr. Rivers, no less + incensed, that the House of Commons had been insulted in his person, + because he did not carry all before him. + </p> + <p> + Flora laughed at their story, and told them that she suspected that the + old gentleman was in the right; and she laid plans for having Harry to + teach them yachting at Ryde, while Harry declared he would have nothing to + do with such trumpery. + </p> + <p> + Harry found his home in a sort of agony of expectation, for his + non-arrival at the time expected had made his first appearance seem like + an unsubstantial illusion, though Dr. May, or Mary and Aubrey, had been at + the station at the coming in of each train. Margaret had recovered the + effects of the first shock, and the welcome was far more joyous than the + first had been, with the mixed sensations that were now composed, and + showed little, outwardly, but gladness. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May took Flora’s view of the case, and declared that, if Harry had + brought home the will, he should not have opened it without his + co-executor. So he wrote to the captain, while Harry made the most of his + time in learning his sisters over again. He spent a short time alone with + Margaret every morning, patiently and gently allowing himself to be + recalled to the sad recollections that were all the world to her. He kept + Ethel and Mary merry with his droll desultory comments; he made Blanche + keep up her dancing; and taught Gertrude to be a thorough little romp. As + to Dr. May, his patients never were so well or so cheerful, till Dr. + Spencer and Ethel suspected that the very sight of his looks brightened + them—how could they help it? Dr. Spencer was as happy as a king in + seeing his friend freed from the heavy weight on his spirits; and, truly, + it was goodly to watch his perfect look of content, as he leaned on his + lion-faced boy’s arm, and walked down to the minster, whither it seemed to + have become possible to go on most evenings. Good Dr. May was no musician, + but Mr. Wilmot could not regret certain tones that now and then burst out + in the chanting, from the very bottom of a heart that assuredly sang with + the full melody of thankfulness, whatever the voice might do. + </p> + <p> + Captain Gordon not only wrote but came to Stoneborough, whence Harry was + to go with him to the court-martial at Portsmouth. + </p> + <p> + The girls wondered that, after writing with so much warmth and affection, + both of and to Harry, he met him without any demonstration of feeling; and + his short peremptory manner removed all surprise that poor Hector had been + so forlorn with him at Maplewood, and turned, with all his heart, to Dr. + May. They were especially impressed at the immediate subsidence of all + Harry’s noise and nonsense, as if the drawing-room had been the + quarter-deck of the Alcestis. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Margaret, “Harry will not hear a single word in dispraise + of him. I do believe he loves him with all his heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Ethel, “that in a strong character, there is an exulting + fear in looking up to a superior, in whose justice there is perfect + reliance. It is a germ of the higher feeling.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you are right,” said Margaret; “but it is a serious thing for a + man to have so little sympathy with those below him. You see how Hector + feels it, and I now understand how it told upon Alan, and how papa’s + warmth was like a surprise to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Because Captain Gordon had to be a father to them, and that is more than + a captain. I should not wonder if there were more similarity and + fellow-feeling between him and Harry than there could be with either of + them. Harry, though he has all papa’s tenderness, is of a rougher sort + that likes to feel itself mastered. Poor Hector! I wonder if he is to be + given back to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know—when—whether they will find out this morning?” + said Margaret, catching her dress nervously, as she was moving away. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I believe so. I was not to have told you, but—” + </p> + <p> + “There is no reason that it should do me any harm,” said Margaret, almost + smiling, and looking as if she was putting a restraint on something she + wished to say. “Go down, dear Ethel—Aubrey will be waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel went down to the difficult task of hearing Aubrey’s lessons, while + Harry was pretending to write to Mrs. Arnott, but, in reality, teaching + Gertrude the parts of a ship, occasionally acting mast, for her to climb. + </p> + <p> + By and by Dr. May came in. “Margaret not downstairs yet?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “She is dressed, but will not come down till the evening,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go to her. She will be pleased. Come up presently, Ethel. Or, + where’s Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone out,” said Harry. “What, is it anything left to her?” + </p> + <p> + “The best, the best!” said Dr. May. “Ethel, listen—twenty thousand, + to build and endow a church for Cocksmoor!” + </p> + <p> + No need to bid Ethel listen. She gave a sort of leap in her chair, then + looked almost ready to faint. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child,” said her father, “This is your wish. I give you joy, + indeed I do!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel drew his arm round her, and leaned against him. “My wish! my wish!” + she repeated, as if questioning the drift of the words. + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad it is found!” cried Harry. “Now I know why he talked of + Cocksmoor, and seemed to rest in planning for it. You will mind the roof + is as he said.” + </p> + <p> + “You must talk to Dr. Spencer about that,” said Dr. May. “The captain + means to leave it entirely in our hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Alan!” exclaimed Ethel. “My wish! Oh, yes, but how gained? Yet, + Cocksmoor with a church! I don’t know how to be glad enough, and yet—” + </p> + <p> + “You shall read the sentence,” said Dr. May. “‘In testimony of + thankfulness for mercy vouchsafed to him here—’ poor dear boy!” + </p> + <p> + “What does the captain say?” asked Harry. + </p> + <p> + “He is rather astounded, but he owns that the estate can bear it, for old + Halliday had saved a great deal, and there will be more before Hector + comes of age.” + </p> + <p> + “And Hector?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we get him back. I am fellow-trustee with Captain Gordon, and as to + personal guardianship, I fancy the captain found he could not make the boy + happy, and thinks you no bad specimen of our training.” + </p> + <p> + “Famous!” cried Harry. “Hector will hurrah now! Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “Except legacies to Captain Gordon, and some Scottish relations. But poor + Margaret ought to hear it. Ethel, don’t be long in coming.” + </p> + <p> + With all Ethel’s reputation for bluntness, it was remarkable how her force + of character made her always called for whenever there was the least dread + of a scene. + </p> + <p> + She turned abruptly from Harry; and, going outside the window, tried to + realise and comprehend the tidings, but all she could have time to + discover was that Alan’s memory was dearer to her than ever, and she was + obliged to hasten upstairs. + </p> + <p> + Her father quitted the room by one door, as she entered by the other; she + believed that it was to hide his emotion, but Margaret’s fair wan face was + beaming with the sweetest of congratulating smiles. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so,” she said, as Ethel came in. “Dear Ethel, are you not + glad?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I am,” said Ethel, putting her hands to her brow. + </p> + <p> + “You think!” exclaimed Margaret, as if disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Ethel, with quivering lip. “Dear Margaret, I am + glad—don’t you believe I am, but somehow, it is harder to deal with + joy than grief. It confuses one! Dear Alan—and then to have been set + on it so long—to have prayed so for it, and to have it come in this + way—by your—” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Ethel, had he come home, it was his great wish to have done it. He + used to make projects when he was here, but he would not let me tell you, + lest he should find duties at Maplewood—whereas this would have been + his pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Alan!” repeated Ethel. “If you are so kind, so dear as to be glad, + Margaret, I think I shall be so presently.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret almost grudged the lack of the girlish outbreak of rejoicing + which would once have forgotten everything in the ecstasy of the fulfilled + vision. It did not seem to be what Alan had intended; he had figured to + himself unmixed joy, and she wanted to see it, and something of the + wayward impatience of weakness throbbed at her heart, as Ethel paced the + room, and disappeared in her own curtained recess. + </p> + <p> + Presently she came back saying, “You are sure you are glad?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be strange if I were not,” said Margaret. “See, Ethel, here are + blessings springing up from what I used to think had served for nothing + but to bring him pain and grief. I am so thankful that he could express + his desire, and so grateful to dear Harry for bringing it to light. How + much better it is than I ever thought it could be! He has been spared + disappointment, and surely the good that he will have done will follow + him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” said Ethel sadly. + </p> + <p> + “I shall lie here and wait,” said Margaret. “I shall see the plans, and + hear all about it, and oh!”—her eyes lighted up—“perhaps some + day, I may hear the bell.” + </p> + <p> + Richard’s tap interrupted them. “Had he heard?” + </p> + <p> + “I have.” The deepened colour in his cheek betrayed how much he felt, as + he cast an anxious glance towards Margaret—an inquiring one on + Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “She is so pleased,” was all Ethel could say. + </p> + <p> + “I thought she would be,” said Richard, approaching. “Captain Gordon + seemed quite vexed that no special token of remembrance was left to her.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret smiled in a peculiar way. “If he only knew how glad I am there + was not.” And Ethel knew that the church was his token to Margaret, and + that any “fading frail memorial” would have lessened the force of the + signification. + </p> + <p> + Ethel could speak better to her brother than to her sister. “Oh, Richard! + Richard! Richard!” she cried, and a most unusual thing with both, she + flung her arms round his neck. “It is come at last! If it had not been for + you, this would never have been. How little likely it seemed, that dirty + day, when I talked wildly, and you checked me!” + </p> + <p> + “You had faith and perseverance,” said Richard, “or—” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Margaret, as Ethel was about to disclaim. “It was + Ethel’s steadiness that brought it before Alan’s mind. If she had yielded + when we almost wished it, in the time of the distress about Mrs. Green, I + do believe that all would have died away!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t keep steady—I was only crazy. You and Ritchie and Mr. + Wilmot—” said Ethel, half crying; then, as if unable to stay, she + exclaimed with a sort of petulance, “And there’s Harry playing all sorts + of rigs with Aubrey! I shan’t get any more sense out of him to-day!” + </p> + <p> + And away she rushed to the wayfaring dust of her life of labour, to find + Aubrey and Daisy half-way up the tulip tree, and Harry mischievously + unwilling to help them down again, assuring her that such news deserved a + holiday, and that she was growing a worse tartar than Miss Winter. She had + better let the poor children alone, put on her bonnet, and come with him + to tell Mr. Wilmot. + </p> + <p> + Whereat Ethel was demurring, when Dr. May came forth, and declared he + should take her himself. + </p> + <p> + Poor Mr. Wilmot laboured under a great burden of gratitude, which no one + would receive from him. Dr. May and Ethel repudiated thanks almost with + terror; and, when he tried them with the captain, he found very doubtful + approval of the whole measure, so that Harry alone was a ready acceptant + of a full meed of acknowledgments for his gallant extraction of the will. + </p> + <p> + No one was more obliged to him than Hector Ernescliffe, who wrote to + Margaret that it would be very jolly to come home again, and that he was + delighted that the captain could not hinder either that or Cocksmoor + Church. “And as to Maplewood, I shall not hate it so much, if that happens + which I hope will happen.” Of which oracular sentence, Margaret could make + nothing. + </p> + <p> + The house of May felt more at their ease when the uncongenial captain had + departed, although he carried off Harry with him. There was the better + opportunity for a tea-drinking consultation with Dr. Spencer and Mr. + Wilmot, when Margaret lay on her sofa, looking better than for months + past, and taking the keenest interest in every arrangement. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer, whose bright eyes glittered at every mention of the subject, + assumed that he was to be the architect, while Dr. May was assuring him + that it was a maxim that no one unpaid could be trusted; and when he + talked of beautiful German churches with pierced spires, declared that the + building must not make too large a hole in the twenty thousand, at the + expense of future curates, because Richard was the first. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be prudent, Dick,” said Dr. Spencer. “Trust me not to rival the + minster.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall find work next for you there,” said Mr. Wilmot. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, we shall have May out of his family packing-box before many years are + over his head.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mention it,” said Dr. May; “I know what I exposed myself to in + bringing Wilmot here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dr. Spencer, “we shall put you in the van when we attack the + Corporation pen.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall hold by the good old cause. As if the galleries had not been + there before you were born!” + </p> + <p> + “As if poor people had a right to sit in their own church!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Sit, you may well say,” said Mr. Wilmot. “As if any one could do + otherwise, with those ingenious traps for hindering kneeling.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, I know the people must have room,” said Dr. May, cutting + short several further attacks which he saw impending. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you would like to build another blue gallery, blocking up another + window, and with Richard May and Christopher Tomkins, Churchwardens, on + it, in orange-coloured letters—the Rivers’ colours. No disrespect to + your father, Miss May, but, as a general observation, it is a property of + Town Councillors to be conservative only where they ought not.” + </p> + <p> + “I brought you here to talk of building a church, not of pulling one to + pieces.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Dr. May, he knew it was inevitable and quite right, but his + affectionate heart and spirit of perpetuity, which had an association + connected with every marble cloud, green baize pew, and square-headed + panel, anticipated tortures in the general sweep, for which his + ecclesiastical taste and sense of propriety would not soon compensate. + </p> + <p> + Margaret spared his feelings by bringing the Cocksmoor subject back again; + Dr. Spencer seemed to comprehend the ardour with which she pressed it on, + as if it were very near her heart that there should be no delay. He said + he could almost promise her that the first stone should be laid before the + end of the summer, and she thanked him in her own warm sweet way, hoping + that it would be while Hector and Harry were at home. + </p> + <p> + Harry soon returned, having gone through the court-martial with the utmost + credit, been patronised by Captain Gordon in an unheard-of manner, asked + to dine with the admiral, and promised to be quickly afloat again. Ere + many days had passed, he was appointed to one of the finest vessels in the + fleet, commanded by a captain to whom Captain Gordon had introduced him, + and who “seemed to have taken a fancy to him,” as he said. The Bucephalus, + now the object of his pride, was refitting, and his sisters hoped to see a + good deal of him before he should again sail. Besides, Flora would be at + Ryde before the end of July. + </p> + <p> + It was singular that Ethel’s vision should have been fulfilled + simultaneously with Flora’s having obtained a position so far beyond what + could have been anticipated. + </p> + <p> + She was evidently extremely happy and valuable, much admired and + respected, and with full exercise for the energy and cleverness, which + were never more gratified than by finding scope for action. Her husband + was devotedly attached to her, and was entirely managed by her, and though + her good judgment kept her from appearing visibly in matters not + pertaining to her own sphere, she was, in fact, his understanding. She + read, listened, and thought for him, imbued him with her own views, and + composed his letters for him; ruling his affairs, both political and + private, and undeniably making him fill a position which, without her, he + would have left vacant; nor was there any doubt that he was far happier + for finding himself of consequence, and being no longer left a charge upon + his own hands. He seemed fully to suffice to her as a companion, although + she was so far superior in power; for it was, perhaps, her nature to love + best that which depended upon her, and gave her a sense of exercising + protection; as she had always loved Margaret better than Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Rivers was an admirable woman.” So every one felt, and her youthful + beauty and success in the fashionable world made her qualities, as a wife + and mistress of a household, the more appreciated. She never set aside her + religious habits or principles, was an active member of various charitable + associations, and found her experience of the Stoneborough Ladies’ + Committee applicable among far greater names. Indeed, Lady Leonora thought + dear Flora Rivers’s only fault, her over-strictness, which encouraged Meta + in the same, but there were points that Flora could not have yielded on + any account, without failing in her own eyes. + </p> + <p> + She made time for everything, and though, between business and fashion, + she seemed to undertake more than mortal could accomplish, it was all + effected, and excellently. She did, indeed, sigh over the briefness of the + time that she could bestow on her child or on home correspondence, and + declared that she should rejoice in rest; but, at the same time, her + achievements were a positive pleasure to her. + </p> + <p> + Meta, in the meantime, had been living passively on the most affectionate + terms with her brother and sister, and though often secretly yearning + after the dear old father, whose darling she had been, and longing for + power of usefulness, she took it on trust that her present lot had been + ordered for her, and was thankful, like the bird of Dr. May’s fable, for + the pleasures in her path—culling sweet morals, and precious + thoughts out of book, painting or concert, occasions for Christian + charities in each courtesy of society, and opportunities for cheerful + self-denial and submission, whenever any little wish was thwarted. + </p> + <p> + So Norman said she had turned into a fine lady! It was a sudden and + surprising intimation, and made a change in the usually bright and calm + current of her thoughts. She was not aware that there had been any + alteration in herself, and it was a revelation that set her to examine + where she had changed—poor little thing! She was not angry, she did + not resent the charge, she took it for granted that, coming from such a + source, it must be true and reasonable—and what did it mean? Did + they think her too gay, or neglectful of old friends? What had they been + saying to Harry about her? + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” thought Meta, “I understand it. I am living a life of ease and + uselessness, and with his higher aims and nobler purposes, he shrinks from + the frivolities among which I am cast. I saw his saddened countenance + among our gaieties, and I know that to deep minds there is heaviness in + the midst of display. He withdraws from the follies that have no charms + for him, and I—ought I to be able to help being amused? I don’t seek + these things, but, perhaps, I ought to avoid them more than I do. If I + could be quite clear what is right, I should not care what effort I made. + But I was born to be one of those who have trial of riches, and such + blessed tasks are not my portion. But if he sees the vanities creeping + into my heart, I should be grateful for that warning.” + </p> + <p> + So meditated Meta, as she copied one of her own drawings of the Grange, + for her dear old governess, Mrs. Larpent, while each line and tint + recalled the comments of her fond amateur father, and the scenery carried + her home, in spite of the street sounds, and the scratching of Flora’s + pen, coursing over note-paper. Presently Sir Henry Walkinghame called, + bringing a beautiful bouquet. + </p> + <p> + “Delicious,” cried Meta. “See, Flora, it is in good time, for those vases + were sadly shabby.” + </p> + <p> + She began at once to arrange the flowers, a task that seemed what she was + born for, and the choice roses and geraniums acquired fresh grace as she + placed them in the slender glasses and classic vases; but Flora’s + discerning eyes perceived some mortification on the part of the gentleman, + and, on his departure, playfully reproached Meta for ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + “Did we not thank him? I thought I did them all due honour, actually using + the Dresden bowl.” + </p> + <p> + “You little wretch! quite insensible to the sentiment of the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Sentiment! One would think you had been reading about the language of + flowers!” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever there was, poor Sir Henry did not mean it for the Dresden bowl + or Bohemian glass.” + </p> + <p> + “Flora! do pray tell me whether you are in fun?” + </p> + <p> + “You ridiculous child!” said Flora, kissing her earnest forehead, ringing + the bell, and gathering up her papers, as she walked out of the room, and + gave her notes to the servant. + </p> + <p> + “What does she mean? Is it play? Oh, no, a hint would be far more like + her. But I hope it is nonsense. He is very kind and pleasant, and I should + not know what to do.” + </p> + <p> + Instances of his complaisance towards herself rose before her, so as to + excite some warmth and gratitude. Her lonely heart thrilled at the idea of + being again the best beloved, and her energetic spirit bounded at the + thought of being no longer condemned to a life of idle ease. Still it was + too new a light to her to be readily accepted, after she had looked on him + so long, merely as a familiar of the house, attentive to her, because she + fell to his share, when Flora was occupied. She liked him, decidedly; she + could possibly do more; but she was far more inclined to dread, than to + desire, any disturbance of their present terms of intercourse. + </p> + <p> + “However,” thought she, “I must see my way. If he should have any such + thing in his head, to go on as we do now would be committing myself, and I + will not do that, unless I am sure it is right. Oh, papa, you would settle + it for me! But I will have it out with Flora. She will find out what I + cannot—how far he is a man for whom one ought to care. I do not + think Norman liked him, but then Norman has so keen a sense of the + world-touched. I suppose I am that! If any other life did but seem + appointed for me, but one cannot tell what is thwarting providential + leading, and if this be as good a man as—What would Ethel say? If I + could but talk to Dr. May! But Flora I will catch, before I see him again, + that I may know how to behave.” + </p> + <p> + Catching Flora was not the easiest thing in the world, among her + multifarious occupations; but Meta was not the damsel to lose an + opportunity for want of decision. + </p> + <p> + Flora saw what was coming, and was annoyed with herself for having given + the alarm; but, after all, it must have come some time or other, though + she had rather that Meta had been more involved first. + </p> + <p> + It should be premised that Mrs. Rivers had no notion of the degree of + attachment felt by her brother for Meta; she only knew that Lady Leonora + had a general distrust of her family, and she felt it a point of honour to + promote no dangerous meetings, and to encourage Sir Henry—a + connection who would be most valuable, both as conferring importance upon + George in the county, and as being himself related to persons of high + influence, whose interest might push on her brothers. Preferment for + Richard; promotion for Harry; nay, diplomatic appointments for Tom, came + floating before her imagination, even while she smiled at her Alnaschar + visions. + </p> + <p> + But the tone of Meta, as she drew her almost forcibly into her room, + showed her that she had given a great shock to her basket. + </p> + <p> + “Flora, if you would only give me a minute, and would tell me—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked Flora, not inclined to spare her blushes. + </p> + <p> + “Whether, whether you meant anything in earnest?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear little goose, did no one ever make an innocent joke in their + lives before?” + </p> + <p> + “It was very silly of me,” said Meta; “but you gave me a terrible fright.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it so very terrible, poor little bird?” said Flora, in commiseration. + “Well then, you may safely think of him as a man tame about the house. It + was much prettier of you not to appropriate the flowers, as any other + damsel would have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really and truly think—” began Meta; but, from the colour of + her cheek and the timid resolution of her tone, Flora thought it safest + not to hear the interrogation, and answered, “I know what he comes here + for—it is only as a refuge from his mother’s friend, old Lady + Drummond, who would give the world to catch him for her daughters—that’s + all. Put my nonsense out of your head, and be yourself, my sweet one.” + </p> + <p> + Flora had never gone so near an untruth, as when she led Meta to believe + this was the sole reason. But, after all, what did Flora herself know to + the contrary? + </p> + <p> + Meta recovered her ease, and Flora marked, as weeks passed on, that she + grew more accustomed to Sir Henry’s attentions. A little while, and she + would find herself so far bound by the encouragement she had given, that + she could not reject him. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said George, “when do you think of going down to take the baby + to the Grange? She looks dull, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, I think it is hardly worth while to go down en masse,” said + Flora. “These last debates may be important, and it is a bad time to quit + one’s post. Don’t you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “As you please—the train is a great bore.” + </p> + <p> + “And we will send the baby down the last day before we go to Ryde, with + Preston and Butts to take care of her. We can’t spare him to take them + down, till we shut up the house. It is so much easier for us to go to + Portsmouth from hence.” + </p> + <p> + The lurking conviction was that one confidential talk with Ethel would + cause the humming-bird to break the toils that were being wound invisibly + round her. Ethel and her father knew nothing of the world, and were so + unreasonable in their requirements! Meta would consult them all, and all + her scruples would awaken, and perhaps Dr. Spencer might be interrogated + on Sir Henry’s life abroad, where Flora had a suspicion that gossip had + best not be raked up. + </p> + <p> + Not that she concealed anything positively known to her, or that she was + not acting just as she would have done by her own child. She found herself + happily married to one whom home notions would have rejected, and she + believed Meta would be perfectly happy with a man of decided talent, + honour, and unstained character, even though he should not come up to her + father’s or Ethel’s standard. + </p> + <p> + If Meta were to marry as they would approve, she would have far to seek + among “desirable connections.” Meantime, was not Flora acting with + exemplary judgment and self-denial? + </p> + <p> + So she wrote that she could not come home; Margaret was much disappointed, + and so was Meta, who had looked to Ethel to unravel the tangles of her + life. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, little miss,” said Flora to herself; “you don’t talk to Ethel + till your fate is irrevocable. Why, if I had listened to her, I should be + thankful to be singing at Mrs. Hoxton’s parties at this minute! and, as + for herself, look at Norman Ogilvie! No, no, after six weeks’ yachting—moonlight, + sea, and sympathy—I defy her to rob Sir Henry of his prize! And, + with Meta lady of Cocksmoor, even Ethel herself must be charmed!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We barter life for pottage, sell true bliss + For wealth or power, for pleasure or renown; + Thus, Esau-like, our Father’s blessing miss, + Then wash with fruitless tears our faded crown. + Christian Year. +</pre> + <p> + “Papa, here is a message from Flora for you,” said Margaret, holding up a + letter; “she wants to know whom to consult about the baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! what’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret read—“Will you ask papa whom I had better call in to see + the baby. There does not seem to be anything positively amiss, but I am + not happy about her. There is a sleepiness about her which I do not + understand, and, when roused, she is fretful, and will not be amused. + There is a look in her eyes which I do not like, and I should wish to have + some advice for her. Lady Leonora recommends Mr.—, but I always + distrust people who are very much the rage, and I shall send for no one + without papa’s advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see!” said Dr. May, startled, and holding out his hand for the + letter. “A look about the eyes! I shall go up and see her myself. Why has + not she brought her home?” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been far better,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Sleepy and dull! She was as lively a child when they took her away as I + ever saw. What! is there no more about her? The letter is crammed with + somebody’s fete—vote of want of confidence—debate last night. + What is she about? She fancies she knows everything, and, the fact is, she + knows no more about infants—I could see that, when the poor little + thing was a day old!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think there is cause for fear?” said Margaret anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell. With a first child, one can’t guess what may be mamma’s + fancy, or what may be serious. But Flora is not too fanciful, and I must + see her for my own satisfaction. Let some one write, and say I will come + up to-morrow by the twelve o’clock train—and mind she opens the + letter.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May kept his word, and the letter had evidently not been neglected; + for George was watching for him at the station, and thanked him so eagerly + for coming, that Dr. May feared that he was indeed needed, and inquired + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Flora is uneasy about her—she seems heavy, and cries when she is + disturbed,” replied George. “Flora has not left her to-day, and hardly + yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you had no advice for her?” + </p> + <p> + “Flora preferred waiting till you should come.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May made an impatient movement, and thought the way long, till they + were set down in Park Lane. Meta came to meet them on the stairs, and said + that the baby was just the same, and Flora was in the nursery, and thither + they hastily ascended. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa! I am so glad you are come!” said Flora, starting up from her + low seat, beside the cradle. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May hardly paused to embrace his daughter, and she anxiously led him + to the cradle, and tried to read his expression, as his eyes fell on the + little face, somewhat puffed, but of a waxy whiteness, and the breathing + seeming to come from the lips. + </p> + <p> + “How long has she been so?” he asked, in a rapid, professional manner. + </p> + <p> + “For about two or three hours. She was very fretful before, but I did not + like to call in any one, as you were coming. Is it from her teeth?” said + Flora, more and more alarmed by his manner. “Her complexion is always like + that—she cannot bear to be disturbed,” added she, as the child + feebly moaned, on Dr. May beginning to take her from her cradle; but, + without attending to the objection, he lifted her up, so that she lay as + quietly as before, on his arm. Flora had trusted that hope and confidence + would come with him; but, on the contrary, every lurking misgiving began + to rush wildly over her, as she watched his countenance, while he carried + his little granddaughter towards the light, studied her intently, raised + her drooping eyelids, and looked into her eyes, scarcely eliciting another + moan. Flora dared not ask a question, but looked on with eyes open, as it + were, stiffened. + </p> + <p> + “This is the effect of opium,” were Dr. May’s first words, breaking on all + with startling suddenness; but, before any one could speak, he added, “We + must try some stimulant directly;” then looking round the room, “What have + you nearest?” + </p> + <p> + “Godfrey’s Cordial, sir,” quickly suggested the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Ay—anything to save time—she is sinking for want of the drug + that has—” He broke off to apportion the dose, and to hold the child + in a position to administer it—Flora tried to give it—the + nurse tried—in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Do not torment her further,” said the doctor, as Flora would have renewed + the trial—“it cannot be done. What have you all been doing?” cried + he, as, looking up, his face changed from the tender compassion with which + he had been regarding his little patient, into a look of strong + indignation, and one of his sentences of hasty condemnation broke from + him, as it would not have done, had Flora been less externally calm. “I + tell you this child has been destroyed with opium!” + </p> + <p> + They all recoiled; the father turned fiercely round on the nurse, with a + violent exclamation, but Dr. May checked him. “Hush! This is no presence + for the wrath of man.” The solemn tone seemed to make George shrink into + an awestruck quiescence; he stood motionless and transfixed, as if indeed + conscious of some overwhelming presence. + </p> + <p> + Flora had come near, with an imploring gesture, to take the child in her + own arms; but Dr. May, by a look of authority, prevented it; for, indeed, + it would have been harassing and distressing the poor little sufferer + again to move her, as she lay with feeble gasps on his arm. + </p> + <p> + So they remained, for what space no one knew—not one word was + uttered, not a limb moved, and the street noises sounded far off. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May stooped his head closer to the babe’s face, and seemed listening + for a breath, as he once more touched the little wrist; he took away his + finger, he ceased to listen, he looked up. + </p> + <p> + Flora gave one cry—not loud, not sharp, but “an exceeding bitter + cry”—she would have moved forward, but reeled, and her husband’s + arms supported her as she sank into a swoon. + </p> + <p> + “Carry her to her room,” said Dr. May. “I will come;” and, when George had + borne her away, he kissed the lifeless cheek, and reverently placed the + little corpse in the cradle; but, as he rose from doing so, the sobbing + nurse exclaimed, “Oh, sir! oh, sir! indeed, I never did—” + </p> + <p> + “Never did what?” said Dr. May sternly. + </p> + <p> + “I never gave the dear baby anything to do her harm,” cried Preston + vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “You gave her this,” said Dr. May, pointing to the bottle of Godfrey’s + Cordial. + </p> + <p> + He could say no more, for her master was hurrying back into the room. + Anger was the first emotion that possessed him, and he hardly gave an + answer to Dr. May’s question about Flora. “Meta is with her! Where is that + woman? Have you given her up to the police?” + </p> + <p> + Preston shrieked and sobbed, made incoherent exclamations, and was much + disposed to cling to the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” said Dr. May, lifting his hand, and assuming a tone and manner + that awed them both, by reminding them that death was present in the + chamber; and, taking his son-in-law out, and shutting the door, he said, + in a low voice, + </p> + <p> + “I believe this is no case for the police—have mercy on the poor + woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy—I’ll have no mercy on my child’s murderer! You said she had + destroyed my child.” + </p> + <p> + “Ignorantly.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care for ignorance! She destroyed her—I’ll have justice,” + said George doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “You shall,” said Dr. May, laying his hand on his arm; “but it must be + investigated, and you are in no state to investigate. Go downstairs—do + not do anything till I come to you.” + </p> + <p> + His peremptory manner imposed on George, who, nevertheless, turned round + as he went, saying, with a fierce glare in his eyes, “You will not let her + escape.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Go down—be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May returned to Preston, and had to assure her that Mr. Rivers was not + gone to call the police, before he could bring her to any degree of + coherence. She regarded him as her only friend, and soon undertook to tell + the whole truth, and he perceived that it was, indeed, the truth. She had + not known that the cordial was injurious, deeming it a panacea against + fretfulness, precious to nurses, but against which ladies always had a + prejudice, and, therefore, to be kept secret. Poor little Leonora had been + very fretful and uneasy when Flora’s many avocations had first caused her + to be set aside, and Preston had had recourse to the remedy which, lulling + her successfully, was applied with less moderation and judgment than would + have been shown by a more experienced person, till gradually the poor + child became dependent on it for every hour of rest. When her mother, at + last, became aware of her unsatisfactory condition, and spent her time in + watching her, the nurse being prevented from continuing her drug, she was, + of course, so miserable without it, that Preston had ventured on proposing + it, to which Mrs. Rivers had replied with displeasure sufficient to + prevent her from declaring how much she had previously given. Preston was + in an agony of distress for her little charge, as well as of fear for + herself, and could hardly understand what her error had been. Dr. May soon + saw that, though not highly principled, her sorrow was sincere, and that + she still wept bitterly over the consequences of her treatment, when he + told her that she had nothing to fear from the law, and that he would + protect her from Mr. Rivers. + </p> + <p> + Her confession was hardly over when Meta knocked at the door, pale and + frightened. “Oh, Dr. May, do come to poor Flora! I don’t know what to do, + and George is in such a state!” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May made a sound of sorrow and perplexity, and Meta, as she went down + before him, asked, in a low, horror-stricken whisper, “Did Preston really—” + </p> + <p> + “Not knowingly,” said Dr. May. “It is the way many children have gone; but + I never thought—” + </p> + <p> + They had come to Flora’s dressing-room. Her bedroom door was open, and + George was pacing heavily up and down the length of both apartments, + fiercely indignant. “Well!” said he, advancing eagerly on Dr. May, “has + she confessed?” + </p> + <p> + “But Flora!” said Dr. May, instead of answering him. Flora lay on her bed, + her face hidden on her pillow, only now and then moaning. + </p> + <p> + “Flora, my poor, poor child!” said her father, bending down to raise her, + and taking her hand. + </p> + <p> + She moved away, so as to bury her face more completely; but there was life + in the movement, and he was sufficiently reassured on her situation to be + able to attend to George, who was only impatient to rush off to take his + revenge. He led him into the outer room, where Meta was waiting, and + forced upon his unwilling conviction that it was no case for the law. The + child had not been killed by any one dose, but had rather sunk from the + want of stimulus, to which she had been accustomed. As to any pity for the + woman, George would not hear of it. She was still, in his eyes, the + destroyer of his child; and, when he found the law would afford him no + vengeance, he insisted that she should be turned out of his house at once. + </p> + <p> + “George!” called a hollow voice from the next room, and hurrying back, + they saw Flora sitting up, and, as well as trembling limbs allowed, + endeavouring to rise to her feet, while burning spots were in her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “George, turn me out of the house too! If Preston killed her, I did!” and + she gave a ghastly laugh. + </p> + <p> + George threw his arms round her, and laid her on her bed again, with many + fond words, and strength which she had not power to withstand. Dr. May, in + the meantime, spoke quickly to Meta in the doorway. “She must go. They + cannot see her again; but has she any friends in London?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not.” + </p> + <p> + “Find out. She must not be sent adrift. Send her to the Grange, if nothing + better offers. You must judge.” + </p> + <p> + He felt that he could confide in Meta’s discretion and promptitude, and + returned to the parents. + </p> + <p> + “Is she gone?” said George, in a whisper, which he meant should be unheard + by his wife, who had sunk her face in her pillows again. + </p> + <p> + “Going. Meta is seeing to it.” + </p> + <p> + “And that woman gets off free!” cried George, “while my poor little girl—” + and, no longer occupied by the hope of retribution, he gave way to an + overpowering burst of grief. + </p> + <p> + His wife did not rouse herself to comfort him, but still lay motionless, + excepting for a convulsive movement that passed over her frame at each + sound from him, and her father felt her pulse bound at the same time with + corresponding violence, as if each of his deep-drawn sobs were a mortal + thrust. Going to him, Dr. May endeavoured to repress his agitation, and + lead him from the room; but he could not, at first, prevail on him to + listen or understand, still less, to quit Flora. The attempt to force on + him the perception that his uncontrolled sorrow was injuring her, and that + he ought to bear up for her sake, only did further harm; for, when he rose + up and tried to caress her, there was the same torpid, passive resistance, + the same burying her face from the light, and the only betrayal of + consciousness in the agonised throbs of her pulse. + </p> + <p> + He became excessively distressed at being thus repelled, and, at last, + yielded to the impatient signals of Dr. May, who drew him into the next + room, and, with brief, strong, though most affectionate and pitying words, + enforced on him that Flora’s brain—nay, her life, was risked, and + that he must leave her alone to his care for the present. Meta coming back + at the same moment, Dr. May put him in her charge, with renewed orders to + impress on him how much depended on tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May went back, with his soft, undisturbing, physician’s footfall, and + stood at the side of the bed, in such intense anxiety as those only can + endure who know how to pray, and to pray in resignation and faith. + </p> + <p> + All was still in the darkening twilight; but the distant roar of the world + surged without, and a gaslight shone flickering through the branches of + the trees, and fell on the rich dress spread on the couch, and the + ornaments on the toilet-table. There was a sense of oppression, and of + being pursued by the incongruous world, and Dr. May sighed to silence all + around, and see his poor daughter in the calm of her own country air; but + she had chosen for herself, and here she lay, stricken down in the midst + of the prosperity that she had sought. + </p> + <p> + He could hear every respiration, tightened and almost sobbing, and he was + hesitating whether to run the risk of addressing her; when, as if it had + occurred to her suddenly that she was alone and deserted, she raised up + her head with a startled movement, but, as she saw him, she again hid her + face, as if his presence were still more intolerable than solitude. + </p> + <p> + “Flora! my own, my dearest—my poor child! you should not turn from + me. Do I not carry with me the like self-reproachful conviction?” + </p> + <p> + Flora let him turn her face towards him and kiss her forehead. It was + burning, and he brought water and bathed it, now and then speaking a few + fond, low, gentle words, which, though she did not respond, evidently had + some soothing effect; for she admitted his services, still, however, + keeping her eyes closed, and her face turned towards the darkest side of + the room. When he went towards the door, she murmured, “Papa!” as if to + detain him. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going, darling. I only wanted to speak to George.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let him come!” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Not till you wish it, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + George’s step was heard; his hand was on the lock, and again Dr. May was + conscious of the sudden rush of blood through all her veins. He quickly + went forward, met him, and shut him out, persuading him, with difficulty, + to remain outside, and giving him the occupation of sending out for an + anodyne—since the best hope, at present, lay in encouraging the + torpor that had benumbed her crushed faculties. + </p> + <p> + Her father would not even venture to rouse her to be undressed; he gave + her the medicine, and let her lie still, with as little movement as + possible, standing by till her regular breathings showed that she had sunk + into a sleep; when he went into the other room and found that George had + also forgotten his sorrows in slumber on the sofa, while Meta sat sadly + presiding over the tea equipage. + </p> + <p> + She came up to meet him, her question expressed in her looks. + </p> + <p> + “Asleep,” he said; “I hope the pulses are quieter. All depends on her + wakening.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor, poor Flora!” said Meta, wiping away her tears. + </p> + <p> + “What have you done with the woman?” + </p> + <p> + “I sent her to Mrs. Larpent’s. I knew she would receive her and keep her + till she could write to her friends. Bellairs took her, but I could hardly + speak to her—” + </p> + <p> + “She did it ignorantly,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “I could never be so merciful and forbearing as you,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my dear, you will never have the same cause!” + </p> + <p> + They could say no more, for George awoke, and the argument of his + exclusion had to be gone through again. He could not enter into it by any + means; and when Dr. May would have made him understand that poor Flora + could not acquit herself of neglect, and that even his affection was too + painful for her in the present state; he broke into a vehement angry + defence of her devotion to her child, treating Dr. May as if the + accusation came from him; and when the doctor and Meta had persuaded him + out of this, he next imagined that his father-in-law feared that he was + going to reproach his wife, and there was no making him comprehend more + than that, if she were not kept quiet, she might have a serious illness. + </p> + <p> + Even then he insisted on going to look at her, and Dr. May could not + prevent him from pressing his lips to her forehead. She half opened her + eyes, and murmured “good-night,” and by this he was a little comforted; + but he would hear of nothing but sitting up, and Meta would have done the + same, but for an absolute decree of the doctor. + </p> + <p> + It was a relief to Dr. May that George’s vigil soon became a sound repose + on the sofa in the dressing-room; and he was left to read and muse + uninterruptedly. + </p> + <p> + It was far past two o’clock before there was any movement; then Flora drew + a long breath, stirred, and, as her father came and drew her hand into + his, before she was well awake, she gave a long, wondering whisper, “Oh, + papa! papa!” then sitting up, and passing her hand over her eyes, “Is it + all true?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, my own poor dear,” said Dr. May, supporting her, as she + rested against his arm, and hid her face on his shoulder, while her breath + came short, and she shivered under the renewed perception—“she is + gone to wait for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Oh, don’t! papa!” said Flora, her voice shortened by anguish. “Oh, + think why—” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Flora, do not, do not speak as if that should exclude peace or + hope!” said Dr. May entreatingly. “Besides, it was no wilful neglect—you + had other duties—” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know me, papa,” said Flora, drawing her hands away from him, + and tightly clenching them in one another, as thoughts far too terrible + for words swept over her. + </p> + <p> + “If I do not, the most Merciful Father does,” said Dr. May. Flora sat for + a minute or two, her hands locked together round her knees, her head bowed + down, her lips compressed. Her father was so far satisfied that the bodily + dangers he had dreaded were averted; but the agony of mind was far more + terrible, especially in one who expressed so little, and in whom it + seemed, as it were, pent up. + </p> + <p> + “Papa!” said Flora presently, with a resolution of tone as if she would + prevent resistance; “I must see her!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall, my dear,” said the doctor at once; and she seemed grateful not + to be opposed, speaking more gently, as she said, “May it be now—while + there is no daylight?” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish it,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + The dawn, and a yellow waning moon, gave sufficient light for moving + about, and Flora gained her feet; but she was weak and trembling, and + needed the support of her father’s arm, though hardly conscious of + receiving it, as she mounted the same stairs, that she had so often + lightly ascended in the like doubtful morning light; for never, after any + party, had she omitted her visit to the nursery. + </p> + <p> + The door was locked, and she looked piteously at her father as her weak + push met the resistance, and he was somewhat slow in turning the key with + his left hand. The whitewashed, slightly furnished room reflected the + light, and the moonbeams showed the window-frame in pale and dim shades on + the blinds, the dewy air breathed in coolly from the park, and there was a + calm solemnity in the atmosphere—no light, no watcher present to + tend the babe. Little Leonora needed such no more; she was with the + Keeper, who shall neither slumber nor sleep. + </p> + <p> + So it thrilled across her grandfather, as he saw the little cradle drawn + into the middle of the room, and, on the coverlet, some pure white + rosebuds and lilies of the valley, gathered in the morning by Mary and + Blanche, little guessing the use that Meta would make of them ere + nightfall. + </p> + <p> + The mother sank on her knees, her hands clasped over her breast, and + rocking herself to and fro uneasily, with a low, irrepressible moaning. + </p> + <p> + “Will you not see her face?” whispered Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “I may not touch her,” was the answer, in the hollow voice, and with the + wild eye that had before alarmed him; but trusting to the soothing power + of the mute face of the innocent, he drew back the covering. + </p> + <p> + The sight was such as he anticipated, sadly lovely, smiling and tranquil—all + oppression and suffering fled away for ever. + </p> + <p> + It stilled the sounds of pain, and the restless motion; the compression of + the hands became less tight, and he began to hope that the look was + passing into her heart. He let her kneel on without interruption, only + once he said, “Of such is the kingdom of Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + She made no immediate answer, and he had had time to doubt whether he + ought to let her continue in that exhausting attitude any longer, when she + looked up and said, “You will all be with her there.” + </p> + <p> + “She has flown on to point your aim more steadfastly,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + Flora shuddered, but spoke calmly—“No, I shall not meet her.” + </p> + <p> + “My child!” he exclaimed, “do you know what you are saying?” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I am not in the way,” said Flora, still in the same fearfully + quiet, matter-of-fact tone. “I never have been”—and she bent over + her child, as if taking her leave for eternity. + </p> + <p> + His tongue almost clave to the roof of his mouth, as he heard the words—words + elicited by one of those hours of true reality that, like death, rend + aside every wilful cloak of self-deceit, and self-approbation. He had no + power to speak at first; when he recovered it, his reply was not what his + heart had, at first, prompted. + </p> + <p> + “Flora! How has this dear child been saved?” he said. “What has released + her from the guilt she inherited through you, through me, through all? Is + not the Fountain open?” + </p> + <p> + “She never wasted grace,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “My child! my Flora!” he exclaimed, losing the calmness he had gained by + such an effort; “you must not talk thus—it is wrong! Only your own + morbid feeling can treat this—this—as a charge against you, + and if it were, indeed”—he sank his voice—“that such + consequences destroyed hope, oh, Flora! where should I be?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Flora, “this is not what I meant. It is that I have never set + my heart right. I am not like you nor my sisters. I have seemed to myself, + and to you, to be trying to do right, but it was all hollow, for the sake + of praise and credit. I know it, now it is too late; and He has let me + destroy my child here, lest I should have destroyed her everlasting life, + like my own.” + </p> + <p> + The most terrible part of this sentence was to Dr. May, that Flora spoke + as if she knew it all as a certainty, and without apparent emotion, with + all the calmness of despair. What she had never guessed before had come + clearly and fully upon her now, and without apparent novelty, or, perhaps, + there had been misgivings in the midst of her complacent + self-satisfaction. She did not even seem to perceive how dreadfully she + was shocking her father, whose sole comfort was in believing her language + the effect of exaggerated self-reproach. His profession had rendered him + not new to the sight of despondency, and, dismayed as he was, he was able + at once to speak to the point. + </p> + <p> + “If it were indeed so, her removal would be the greatest blessing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said her mother, and her assent was in the same tone of resigned + despair, owning it best for her child to be spared a worldly education, + and loving her truly enough to acquiesce. + </p> + <p> + “I meant the greatest blessing to you,” continued Dr. May, “if it be sent + to open your eyes, and raise your thoughts upwards. Oh, Flora, are not + afflictions tokens of infinite love?” + </p> + <p> + She could not accept the encouragement, and only formed, with her lips, + the words, “Mercy to her—wrath to me!” + </p> + <p> + The simplicity and hearty piety which, with all Dr. May’s faults, had + always been part of his character, and had borne him, in faith and trust, + through all his trials, had never belonged to her. Where he had been + sincere, erring only from impulsiveness, she had been double-minded and + calculating; and, now that her delusion had been broken down, she had + nothing to rest upon. Her whole religious life had been mechanical, + deceiving herself more than even others, and all seemed now swept away, + except the sense of hypocrisy, and of having cut herself off, for ever, + from her innocent child. Her father saw that it was vain to argue with + her, and only said, “You will think otherwise by and by, my dear. Now + shall I say a prayer before we go down?” + </p> + <p> + As she made no reply, he repeated the Lord’s Prayer, but she did not join; + and then he added a broken, hesitating intercession for the mourners, + which caused her to bury her face deeper in her hands, but her dull + wretchedness altered not. + </p> + <p> + Rising, he said authoritatively, “Come, Flora, you must go to bed. See, it + is morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You have sat up all night with me!” said Flora, with somewhat of her + anxious, considerate self. + </p> + <p> + “So has George. He had just dropped asleep on the sofa when you awoke.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought he was in anger,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Not with you, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I remember now, not where it was justly due. Papa,” she said, + pausing, as to recall her recollection, “what did I do? I must have done + something very unkind to make him go away and leave me.” + </p> + <p> + “I insisted on his leaving you, my dear. You seemed oppressed, and his + affectionate ways were doing you harm; so I was hardhearted, and turned + him out, sadly against his will.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor George!” said Flora, “has he been left to bear it alone all this + time? How much distressed he must have been. I must have vexed him + grievously. You don’t guess how fond he was of her. I must go to him at + once.” + </p> + <p> + “That is right, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t praise me,” said she, as if she could not bear it. “All that is + left for me is to do what I can for him.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May felt cheered. He was sure that hope must again rise out of + unselfish love and duty. + </p> + <p> + Their return awoke George, who started, half sitting up, wondering why he + was spending the night in so unusual a manner, and why Flora looked so + pale, in the morning light, with her loosened, drooping hair. + </p> + <p> + She went straight to him, and, kneeling by his side, said, “George, + forgive!” The same moment he had caught her to his bosom; but so impressed + was his tardy mind with the peril of talking to her, that he held her in + his arms without a single word, till Dr. May had unclosed his lips—a + sign would not suffice—he must have a sentence to assure him; and + then it was such joy to have her restored, and his fondness and solicitude + were so tender and eager in their clumsiness, that his father-in-law was + touched to the heart. + </p> + <p> + Flora was quite herself again, in presence of mind and power of dealing + with him; and Dr. May left them to each other, and went to his own room, + for such rest as sorrow, sympathy, and the wakening city, would permit + him. + </p> + <p> + When the house was astir in the morning, and the doctor had met Meta in + the breakfast-room, and held with her a sad, affectionate conversation, + George came down with a fair report of his wife, and took her father to + see her. + </p> + <p> + That night had been like an illness to her, and, though perfectly + composed, she was feeble and crushed, keeping the room darkened, and + reluctant to move or speak. Indeed, she did not seem able to give her + attention to any one’s voice, except her husband’s. When Dr. May, or Meta, + spoke to her, she would miss what they said, beg their pardon, and ask + them to repeat it; and sometimes, even then, become bewildered. They tried + reading to her, but she did not seem to listen, and her half-closed eye + had the expression of listless dejection, that her father knew betokened + that, even as last night, her heart refused to accept promises of comfort + as meant for her. + </p> + <p> + For George, however, her attention was always ready, and was perpetually + claimed. He was forlorn and at a loss without her, every moment; and, in + the sorrow which he too felt most acutely, could not have a minute’s peace + unless soothed by her presence; he was dependent on her to a degree which + amazed and almost provoked the doctor, who could not bear to have her + continually harassed and disturbed, and yet was much affected by + witnessing so much tenderness, especially in Flora, always the cold + utilitarian member of his family. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the day she rose and dressed, because George was unhappy + at having to sit without her, though only in the next room. She sat in the + large arm-chair, turned away from the blinded windows, never speaking nor + moving, save when he came to her, to make her look at his letters and + notes, when she would, with the greatest patience and sweetness, revise + them, suggest word or sentence, rouse herself to consider each petty + detail, and then sink back into her attitude of listless dejection. To all + besides, she appeared totally indifferent; gently courteous to Meta and to + her father, when they addressed her, but otherwise showing little + consciousness whether they were in the room; and yet, when something was + passing about her father’s staying or returning, she rose from her seat, + came up to him before he was aware, and said, “Papa! papa! you will not + leave me!” in such an imploring tone, that if he had ever thought of + quitting her, he could not have done so. + </p> + <p> + He longed to see her left to perfect tranquillity, but such could not be + in London. Though theirs was called a quiet house, the rushing stream of + traffic wearied his country ears, the door bell seemed ceaselessly + ringing, and though Meta bore the brunt of the notes and messages, great + numbers necessarily came up to Mr. Rivers, and of these Flora was not + spared one. Dr. May had his share too of messages and business, and + friends and relations, the Rivers’ kindred, always ready to take offence + with their rich connections, and who would not be satisfied with + inquiries, at the door, but must see Meta, and would have George fetched + down to them—old aunts, who wanted the whole story of the child’s + illness, and came imagining there was something to be hushed up; Lady + Leonora extremely polite, but extremely disgusted at the encounter with + them; George ready to be persuaded to take every one up to see his wife, + and the prohibition to be made by Dr. May over and over again—it was + a most tedious, wearing afternoon, and at last, when the visitors had + gone, and George had hurried back to his wife, Dr. May threw himself into + an arm-chair and said, “Oh, Meta, sorrow weighs more heavily in town than + in the country!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” said Meta. “If one only could go out and look at the flowers, and + take poor Flora up a nosegay!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think it would make much difference to her,” sighed the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think it would,” said Meta; “it did to me. The sights there speak + of the better sights.” + </p> + <p> + “The power to look must come from within,” said Dr. May, thinking of his + poor daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Meta, “as Mr. Ernescliffe said, ‘heaven is as near—!’ But + the skirts of heaven are more easily traced in our mountain view than + here, where, if I looked out of window, I should only see that giddy + string of carriages and people pursuing each other!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we shall get her home as soon as she is able to move, and I hope it + may soothe her. What a turmoil it is! There has not been one moment + without noise in the twenty-two hours I have been here!” + </p> + <p> + “What would you say if you were in the city?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there’s no talking of it; but if I had been a fashionable London + physician, as my father-in-law wanted to make me, I should have been dead + long ago!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I think you would have liked it very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Love’s a flower that will not die,” repeated Meta, half smiling. “You + would have found so much good to do—” + </p> + <p> + “And so much misery to rend one’s heart,” said Dr. May. “But, after all, I + suppose there is only a certain capacity of feeling.” + </p> + <p> + “It is within, not without, as you said,” returned Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Ha, there’s another!” cried Dr. May, almost petulant at the sound of the + bell again, breaking into the conversation that was a great refreshment. + </p> + <p> + “It was Sir Henry Walkinghame’s ring,” said Meta. “It is always his time + of day.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor did not like it the better. + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry sent up a message to ask whether he could see Mr. or Miss + Rivers. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose we must,” said Meta, looking at the doctor. “Lady Walkinghame + must be anxious about Flora.” + </p> + <p> + She blushed greatly, fancying that Dr. May was putting his own + construction on the heightened colour which she could not control. Sir + Henry came in, just what he ought to be, kindly anxious, but not + overwhelming, and with a ready, pleased recognition of the doctor, as an + old acquaintance of his boyhood. He did not stay many minutes; but there + was a perceptible difference between his real sympathy and friendly regard + only afraid of obtruding, and the oppressive curiosity of their former + visitors. Dr. May felt it due, both from kindness and candour, to say + something in his praise when he was gone. + </p> + <p> + “That is a sensible superior man,” he said. “He will be an acquisition + when he takes up his abode at Drydale.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Meta; a very simple yes, from which nothing could be gathered. + </p> + <p> + The funeral was fixed for Monday, the next day but one, at the church + where Mr. Rivers had been buried. No one was invited to be present; Ethel + wrote that, much as she wished it, she could not leave Margaret, and, as + the whole party were to return home on the following day, they should soon + see Flora. + </p> + <p> + Flora had laid aside all privileges of illness after the first day; she + came downstairs to breakfast and dinner, and though looking wretchedly + ill, and speaking very low and feebly, she was as much as ever the + mistress of her house. Her father could never draw her into conversation + again on the subject nearest his heart, and could only draw the sad + conclusion that her state of mind was unchanged, from the dreary + indifference with which she allowed every word of cheer to pass by + unheeded, as if she could not bear to look beyond the grave. He had some + hope in the funeral, which she was bent on attending, and more in the + influence of Margaret, and the counsel of Richard, or of Mr. Wllmot. + </p> + <p> + The burial, however, failed to bring any peaceful comfort to the mourning + mother. Meta’s tears flowed freely, as much for her father as for her + little niece; and George’s sobs were deep and choking; but Flora, + externally, only seemed absorbed in helping him to go through with it; + she, herself, never lost her fixed, composed, hopeless look. + </p> + <p> + After her return, she went up to the nursery, and deliberately set apart + and locked up every possession of her child’s, then, coming down, startled + Meta by laying her hand on her shoulder and saying, “Meta, dear, Preston + is in the housekeeper’s room. Will you go and speak to her for a moment, + to reassure her before I come?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Flora!” + </p> + <p> + “I sent for her,” said Flora, in answer. “I thought it would be a good + opportunity while George is out. Will you be kind enough to prepare her, + my dear?” + </p> + <p> + Meta wondered how Flora had known whither to send, but she could not but + obey. Poor Preston was an ordinary sort of woman, kind-hearted, and not + without a conscience; but her error had arisen from the want of any high + religious principle to teach her obedience, or sincerity. Her grief was + extreme, and she had been so completely overcome by the forbearance and + consideration shown to her, that she was even more broken-hearted by the + thought of them, than by the terrible calamity she had occasioned. + </p> + <p> + Kind-hearted Mrs. Larpent had tried to console her, as well as to turn the + misfortune to the best account, and Dr. May had once seen her, and striven + gently to point out the true evil of the course she had pursued. She was + now going to her home, and they augured better of her, that she had been + as yet too utterly downcast to say one word of that first thought with a + servant, her character. + </p> + <p> + Meta found her sobbing uncontrollably at the associations of her master’s + house, and dreadfully frightened at hearing that she was to see Mrs. + Rivers; she began to entreat to the contrary with the vehemence of a + person unused to any self-government; but, in the midst, the low calm + tones were heard, and her mistress stood before her—her perfect + stillness of demeanour far more effective in repressing agitation, than + had been Meta’s coaxing attempts to soothe. + </p> + <p> + “You need not be afraid to see me, Preston,” said Flora kindly. “I am very + sorry for you—you knew no better, and I should not have left so much + to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ma’am—so kind—the dear, dear little darling—I shall + never forgive myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you did love her,” continued Flora. “I am sure you intended no + harm, and it was my leaving her that made her fretful.” + </p> + <p> + Preston tried to thank. + </p> + <p> + “Only remember henceforth”—and the clear tone grew fainter than ever + with internal anguish, though still steady—“remember strict + obedience and truth henceforth; the want of them will have worse results + by and by than even this. Now, Preston, I shall always wish you well. I + ought not, I believe, to recommend you to the like place, without saying + why you left me, but for any other I will give you a fair character. I + will see what I can do for you, and if you are ever in any distress, I + hope you will let me know. Have your wages been paid?” + </p> + <p> + There was a sound in the affirmative, but poor Preston could not speak. + “Good-bye, then,” and Flora took her hand and shook it. “Mind you let me + hear if you want help. Keep this.” + </p> + <p> + Meta was a little disappointed to see sovereigns instead of a book. Flora + turned to go, and put her hand out to lean on her sister as for support; + she stood still to gather strength before ascending the stairs, and a + groan of intense misery was wrung from her. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest Flora, it has been too much!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Flora gently. + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing, I am glad for her sake. But might she not have a book—a + Bible?” + </p> + <p> + “You may give her one, if you like. I could not.” + </p> + <p> + Flora reached her own room, went in, and bolted the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, where dwell ye, my ain sweet bairns? + I’m woe and weary grown! + Oh, Lady, we live where woe never is, + In a land to flesh unknown.—ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. +</pre> + <p> + It had been with a gentle sorrow that Etheldred had expected to go and lay + in her resting-place, the little niece, who had been kept from the evil of + the world, in a manner of which she had little dreamt. Poor Flora! she + must be ennobled, she thought, by having a child where hers is, when she + is able to feel anything but the first grief; and Ethel’s heart yearned to + be trying, at least, to comfort her, and to be with her father, who had + loved his grandchild so fondly. + </p> + <p> + It was not to be. Margaret had borne so many shocks with such calmness, + that Ethel had no especial fears for her; but there are some persons who + have less fortitude for others than for themselves, and she was one of + these. Ethel had been her own companion-sister, and the baby had been the + sunbeam of her life, during the sad winter and spring. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the night, Ethel knocked at Richard’s door. Margaret had + been seized with faintness, from which they could not bring her back; and, + even when Richard had summoned Dr. Spencer, it was long ere his remedies + took effect; but, at last, she revived enough to thank them, and say she + was glad that papa was not there. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer sent them all to bed, and the rest of the night was quiet; but + Margaret could not deny, in the morning, that she felt terribly shattered, + and she was depressed in spirits to a degree such as they had never seen + in her before. Her whole heart was with Flora; she was unhappy at being at + a distance from her, almost fretfully impatient for letters, and insisting + vehemently on Ethel’s going to London. + </p> + <p> + Ethel had never felt so helpless and desolate, as with Margaret thus + changed and broken, and her father absent. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Dr. Spencer, “nothing can be better for both parties than + that he should be away. If he were here, he ought to leave all attendance + to me, and she would suffer from the sight of his distress.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think what he will do or feel!” sighed Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Leave it to me. I will write to him, and we shall see her better before + post time.” + </p> + <p> + “You will tell him exactly how it was, or I shall,” said Ethel abruptly, + not to say fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Ho! you don’t trust me?” said Dr. Spencer, smiling, so that she was + ashamed of her speech. “You shall speak for yourself, and I for myself; + and I shall say that nothing would so much hurt her as to have others + sacrificed to her.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said Ethel; “but she misses papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she does; but, depend on it, she would not have him leave your + sister, and she is under less restraint without him.” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw her like this!” + </p> + <p> + “The drop has made it overflow. She has repressed more than was good for + her, and now that her guard is broken down, she gives way under the whole + weight.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Margaret! I am pertinacious; but, if she is not better by post time, + papa will not bear to be away.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what I think of her by that time. Send up your brother + Richard, if you wish to do her good. Richard would be a much better person + to write than yourself. I perceive that he is the reasonable member of the + family.” + </p> + <p> + “Did not you know that before?” + </p> + <p> + “All I knew of him, till last night, was, that no one could, by any + possibility, call him Dick.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer was glad to have dismissed Ethel smiling; and she was the + better able to bear with poor Margaret’s condition of petulance. She had + never before experienced the effects of bodily ailments on the temper, and + she was slow to understand the change in one usually so patient and + submissive. She was, by turns, displeased with her sister and with her own + abruptness; but, though she knew it not, her bluntness had a bracing + effect. She thought she had been cross in declaring it was nonsense to + harp on her going to London; but it made Margaret feel that she had been + unreasonable, and keep silence. + </p> + <p> + Richard managed her much better, being gentle and firm, and less ready to + speak than Ethel, and he succeeded in composing her into a sleep, which + restored her balance, and so relieved Ethel, that she not only allowed Dr. + Spencer to say what he pleased, but herself made light of the whole + attack, little knowing how perilous was any shock to that delicate frame. + </p> + <p> + Margaret’s whole purpose was to wind herself up for the first interview + with Flora; and though she had returned to her usual state, she would not + go downstairs on the evening the party were expected, believing it would + be more grateful to her sister’s feelings to meet her without witnesses. + </p> + <p> + The travellers arrived, and Dr. May hurried up to her. She barely replied + to his caresses and inquiries in her eagerness to hear of Flora, and to + convince him that he must not forbid the meeting. Nor had he any mind so + to do. “Surely,” said he, when he had seen the spiritualised look of her + glistening blue eyes, the flush on her transparent cheeks, and her hands + clasped over her breast—“surely poor Flora must feel as though an + angel were waiting to comfort her.” + </p> + <p> + Flora came, but there was sore disappointment. Fond and tender she was as + ever, but, neither by word or gesture, would she admit the most remote + allusion to her grief. She withdrew her hand when Margaret’s pressure + became expressive; she avoided her eye, and spoke incessantly of different + subjects. All the time, her voice was low and hollow, her face had a + settled expression of wretchedness, and her glances wandered drearily and + restlessly anywhere but to Margaret’s face; but her steadiness of manner + was beyond her sister’s power to break, and her visit was shortened on + account of her husband. Poor George had quite given way at the sight of + Gertrude, whom his little girl had been thought to resemble; and, though + Dr. May had soothed him almost like a child, no one put any trust in his + self-control, and all sat round, fearing each word or look, till Flora + came downstairs, and they departed. + </p> + <p> + Richard and Ethel each offered to go with them; they could not bear to + think of their spending that first evening in their childless home; but + Flora gently, but decidedly, refused; and Dr. May said that, much as he + wished to be with them, he believed that Flora preferred having no one but + Meta. “I hope I have done Margaret no harm,” were Flora’s last words to + him, and they seemed to explain her guarded manner; but he found Margaret + weeping as she had never wept for herself, and palpitation and faintness + were the consequence. + </p> + <p> + Ethel looked on at Flora as a sad and perplexing mystery during the weeks + that ensued. There were few opportunities of being alone together, and + Flora shrank from such as they were—nay, she checked all expression + of solicitude, and made her very kisses rapid and formal. + </p> + <p> + The sorrow that had fallen on the Grange seemed to have changed none of + the usual habits there—visiting, riding, driving, dinners, and + music, went on with little check. Flora was sure to be found the animated, + attentive lady of the house, or else sharing her husband’s pursuits, + helping him with his business, or assisting him in seeking pleasure, + spending whole afternoons at the coachmaker’s over a carriage that they + were building, and, it was reported, playing ecarte in the evening. + </p> + <p> + Had grief come to be forgotten and cast aside without effecting any + mission? Yet Ethel could not believe that the presence of the awful + messenger was unfelt, when she heard poor George’s heavy sigh, or when she + looked at Flora’s countenance, and heard the peculiar low, subdued tone of + her voice, which, when her words were most cheerful, always seemed to + Ethel the resigned accent of despair. + </p> + <p> + Ethel could not talk her over with Margaret, for all seemed to make it a + point that Margaret should believe the best. Dr. May turned from the + subject with a sort of shuddering grief, and said, “Don’t talk of her, + poor child—only pray for her!” + </p> + <p> + Ethel, though shocked by the unwonted manner of his answer, was somewhat + consoled by perceiving that a double measure of tenderness had sprung up + between her father and his poor daughter. If Flora had seemed, in her + girlhood, to rate him almost cheaply, this was at an end now; she met him + as if his embrace were peace, the gloom was lightened, the attention less + strained, when he was beside her, and she could not part with him without + pressing for a speedy meeting. Yet she treated him with the same reserve; + since that one ghastly revelation of the secrets of her heart, the veil + had been closely drawn, and he could not guess whether it had been but a + horrible thought, or were still an abiding impression. Ethel could gather + no more than that her father was very unhappy about Flora, and that + Richard understood why; for Richard had told her that he had written to + Flora, to try to persuade her to cease from this reserve, but that he had + no reply. + </p> + <p> + Norman was not at home; he had undertaken the tutorship of two schoolboys + for the holidays; and his father owned, with a sigh, that he was doing + wisely. + </p> + <p> + As to Meta, she was Ethel’s chief consolation, by the redoubled + assurances, directed to Ethel’s unexpressed dread, lest Flora should be + rejecting the chastening Hand. Meta had the most absolute certainty that + Flora’s apparent cheerfulness was all for George’s sake, and that it was a + most painful exertion. “If Ethel could only see how she let herself sink + together, as it were, and her whole countenance relax, as soon as he was + out of sight,” Meta said, “she could not doubt what misery these efforts + were to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why does she go on with them?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “George,” said Meta. “What would become of him without her? If he misses + her for ten minutes he roams about lost, and he cannot enjoy anything + without her. I cannot think how he can help seeing what hard work it is, + and how he can be contented with those dreadful sham smiles; but as long + as she can give him pleasure, poor Flora will toil for him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very selfish,” Ethel caught herself saying. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, it is not,” cried Meta. “It is not that he will not see, but that + he cannot see. Good honest fellow, he really thinks it does her good and + pleases her. I was so sorry one evening when I tried to take her place at + that perpetual ecarte, and told him it teased her; he went so wistfully to + her, and asked whether it did, and she exerted herself into such painful + enjoyment to persuade him to the contrary; and afterwards she said to me, + ‘Let me alone, dearest—it is the only thing left me.’” + </p> + <p> + “There is something in being husband and wife that one cannot understand,” + slowly said Ethel, so much in her quaint way that Meta laughed. + </p> + <p> + Had it not been for Norman’s absence, Ethel would, in the warm sympathy + and accustomed manner of Meta Rivers, have forgotten all about the hopes + and fears that, in brighter days, had centred on that small personage; + until one day, as she came home from Cocksmoor, she found “Sir Henry + Walkinghame’s” card on the drawing-room table. “I should like to bite you! + Coming here, are you?” was her amiable reflection. + </p> + <p> + Meta, in her riding-habit, peeped out of Margaret’s room. “Oh, Ethel, + there you are! It is such a boon that you did not come home sooner, or we + should have had to ride home with him! I heard him asking for the Miss + Mays! And now I am in hopes that he will go home without falling in with + Flora and George.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know he was in these parts.” + </p> + <p> + “He came to Drydale last week, but the place is forlorn, and George gave + him a general invitation to the Grange.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like him?” said Ethel, while Margaret looked on, amazed at her + audacity. + </p> + <p> + “I liked him very much in London,” said Meta; “he is pleasant enough to + talk to, but somehow, he is not congruous here—if you understand me. + And I think his coming oppresses Flora—she turned quite pale when he + was announced, and her voice was lower than ever when she spoke to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he come often?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think he has anything else to do,” returned Meta, “for our house + cannot be as pleasant as it was; but he is very kind to George, and for + that we must be grateful. One thing I am afraid of, that he will persuade + us off to the yachting after all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” was the general exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Meta. “George seemed to like the plan, and I very much fear + that he is taking a dislike to the dear old Grange. I heard him say, + ‘Anything to get away.’” + </p> + <p> + “Poor George, I know he is restless,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “At least,” said Ethel, “you can’t go till after your birthday, Miss + Heiress.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Uncle Cosham is coming,” said Meta. “Margaret, you must have your + stone laid before we go!” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Spencer promises it before Hector’s holidays are over,” said + Margaret, blushing, as she always did, with pleasure, when they talked of + the church. + </p> + <p> + Hector Ernescliffe had revived Margaret wonderfully. She was seldom + downstairs before the evening, and Ethel thought his habit of making her + apartment his sitting-room must be as inconvenient to her as it was to + herself; but Hector could not be de trop for Margaret. She exerted herself + to fulfil for him all the little sisterly offices that, with her brothers, + had been transferred to Ethel and Mary; she threw herself into all his + schemes, tried to make him endure Captain Gordon, and she even read his + favourite book of Wild Sports, though her feelings were constantly + lacerated by the miseries of the slaughtered animals. Her couch was to him + as a home, and he had awakened her bright soft liveliness which had been + only dimmed for a time. + </p> + <p> + The church was her other great interest, and Dr. Spencer humoured her by + showing her all his drawings, consulting her on every ornament, and making + many a perspective elevation, merely that she might see the effect. + </p> + <p> + Richard and Tom made it their recreation to construct a model of the + church as a present for her, and Tom developed a genius for carving, which + proved a beneficial interest to keep him from surliness. He had + voluntarily propounded his intended profession to his father, who had been + so much pleased by his choice, that he could not but be gratified; though + now and then ambitious fancies, and discontent with Stoneborough, combined + to bring on his ordinary moody fits, the more, because his habitual + reserve prevented any one from knowing what was working in his mind. + </p> + <p> + Finally the Rivers’ party announced their intention of going to the Isle + of Wight as soon as Meta had come of age; and the council of Cocksmoor, + meeting at tea at Dr. May’s house, decided that the foundation stone of + the church should be laid on the day after her birthday, when there would + be a gathering of the whole family, as Margaret wished. Dr. Spencer had + worked incredibly hard to bring it forward, and Margaret’s sweet smiles, + and liquid eyes, expressed how personally thankful she felt. + </p> + <p> + “What a blessing this church has been to that poor girl,” said Dr. + Spencer, as he left the house with Mr. Wilmot. “How it beguiles her out of + her grief! I am glad she has the pleasure of the foundation; I doubt if + she will see the consecration.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Mr. Wilmot, shocked. “Was that attack so serious?” + </p> + <p> + “That recumbent position and want of exercise were certain to produce + organic disease, and suspense and sorrow have hastened it. The death of + Mrs. Rivers’s poor child was the blow that called it into activity, and, + if it last more than a year, I shall be surprised.” + </p> + <p> + “For such as she is, one cannot presume to wish, but her father—is + he aware of this?” + </p> + <p> + “He knows there is extensive damage; I think he does not open his eyes to + the result, but he will bear it. Never was there a man to whom it came so + naturally to live like the fowls of the air, or the lilies of the field, + as it does to dear Dick May,” said Dr. Spencer, his voice faltering. + </p> + <p> + “There is a strength of faith and love in him that carries him through + all,” said Mr. Wilmot. “His childlike nature seems to have the + trustfulness that is, in itself, consolation. You said how Cocksmoor had + been blessed to Margaret—I think it is the same with them all—not + only Ethel and Richard, who have been immediately concerned; but that one + object has been a centre and aim to elevate the whole family, and give + force and unity to their efforts. Even the good doctor, much as I always + looked up to him—much good as he did me in my young days—I + must confess that he was sometimes very provoking.” + </p> + <p> + “If you had tried to be his keeper at Cambridge, you might say so!” + rejoined Dr. Spencer. + </p> + <p> + “He is so much less impetuous—more consistent—less desultory; + I dare say you understand me,” said Mr. Wilmot. “His good qualities do not + entangle one another as they used to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so. He was far more than I looked for when I came home, though I + might have guessed that such a disposition, backed by such principles and + such—could not but shake off all the dross.” + </p> + <p> + “One thing was,” said Mr. Wilmot, smiling, “that a man must take himself + in hand at some time in his life, and Dr. May only began to think himself + responsible for himself when he lost his wife, who was wise for both. She + was an admirable person, but not easy to know well. I think you knew her + at—” + </p> + <p> + “I say,” interrupted Dr. Spencer, “it strikes me that we could not do + better than get up our S. P. G. demonstration on the day of the stone—” + </p> + <p> + Hitherto the Stoneborough subscribers to the Society for the Propagation + of the Gospel had been few and far between; but, under the new dynasty, + there was a talk of forming an association, and having a meeting to bring + the subject forward. Dr. Spencer’s proposal, however, took the vicar by + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Never could there be a better time,” he argued. “You have naturally a + gathering of clergy—people ought to be liberal on such an occasion, + and, as Cocksmoor is provided for, why not give the benefit to the + missions, in their crying need!” + </p> + <p> + “True, but there is no time to send for any one to make a speech.” + </p> + <p> + “Husband your resources. What could you have better than young Harry and + his islanders?” + </p> + <p> + “Harry would never make a speech.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him cram Norman. Young Lake tells me Norman made a great sensation at + the Union at Oxford, and if his heart is in the work, he must not shrink + from the face of his townsmen.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt he had rather they were savages,” said the vicar. “And yourself—you + will tell them of the Indian missions.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” said Dr. Spencer. “When my Brahminhee godson—the + deacon I told you of, comes to pay me his promised visit, what doings we + shall have! Seriously, I have just had letters from him and from others, + that speak of such need, that I could feel every moment wasted that is not + spent on their behalf.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot was drawn into Dr. Spencer’s house, and heard the letters, till + his heart burned within him. + </p> + <p> + The meeting was at once decided upon, though Ethel could not see why + people could not give without speechifying, and her two younger brothers + declared it was humbug—Tom saying, he wished all blackamoors were + out of creation, and Harry, that he could not stand palaver about his + friend David. Dr. May threatened him with being displayed on the platform + as a living instance of the effects of missions, at which he took alarm, + and so seriously declared that he should join the Bucephalus at once, that + they pacified him by promising that he should do as he pleased. + </p> + <p> + The archdeacon promised a sermon, and the active Dr Spencer worked the + nine muses and all the rest of the town and neighbourhood into a state of + great enthusiasm and expectation. He went to the Grange, as he said, to + collect his artillery; primed Flora that she might prime the M. P.; made + the willing Meta promise to entrap the uncle, who was noted for + philanthropical speeches; and himself captured Sir Henry Walkinghame, who + looked somewhat rueful at what he found incumbent on him as a country + gentleman, though there might be some compensation in the eagerness of + Miss Rivers. + </p> + <p> + Norman had hardly set foot in Stoneborough before he was told what was in + store for him, and, to the general surprise, submitted as if it were a + very simple matter. As Dr. Spencer told him, it was only a foretaste of + the penalty which every missionary has to pay for coming to England. + Norman was altogether looking much better than when he had been last at + home, and his spirits were more even. He had turned his whole soul to the + career he had chosen, cast his disappointment behind him, or, more truly, + made it his offering, and gathered strength and calmness, with which to + set out on tasks of working for others, with thoughts too much absorbed on + them, to give way to the propensity of making himself the primary object + of study and contemplation. The praise of God, and love of man, were the + best cures for tendencies like his, and he had found it out. His calm, + though grave cheerfulness, came as a refreshment to those who had been + uneasy about him, and mournfully watching poor Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dr. Spencer, “you have taken the best course for your own + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Norman coloured, as if he understood more than met the ear. Mary and + Blanche were very busy preparing presents for Meta Rivers, and every one + was anxious to soften to her the thought of this first birthday without + her father. Each of the family contributed some pretty little trifle, + choice in workmanship or kind in device, and each was sealed and marked + with the initials of the giver, and packed up by Mary, to be committed to + Flora’s charge. Blanche had, however, much trouble in extracting a gift + from Norman, and he only yielded at last, on finding that all his brothers + had sent something, so that his omission would be marked. Then he dived + into the recesses of his desk, and himself sealed up a little parcel, of + which he would not allow his sisters to inspect the contents. + </p> + <p> + Ethel had a shrewd guess. She remembered his having, in the flush of joy + at Margaret’s engagement, rather prematurely caused a seal to be cut with + a daisy, and “Pearl of the meadow” as the motto; and his having said that + he should keep it as a wedding present. She could understand that he was + willing to part with it without remark. + </p> + <p> + Flora met Meta in her sitting-room, on the morning of the day, which rose + somewhat sadly upon the young girl, as she thought of past affection and + new responsibilities. If the fondness of a sister could have compensated + for what she had lost, Meta received it in no scanty measure from Flora, + who begged to call George, because he would be pleased to see the display + of gifts. + </p> + <p> + His own was the only costly one—almost all the rest were homemade + treasures of the greater price, because the skill and fondness of the + maker were evident in their construction; and Meta took home the kindness + as it was meant, and felt the affection that would not let her feel + herself lonely. She only wished to go and thank them all at once. + </p> + <p> + “Do then,” said Flora. “If Lord Cosham will spare you, and your business + should be over in time, you could drive in, and try to bring papa home + with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, Flora. That is a kind treat, in case the morning should be + very awful!” + </p> + <p> + Margaret Agatha Rivers signed her documents, listened to explanations, and + was complimented by her uncle on not thinking it necessary to be senseless + on money matters, like her cousin, Agatha Langdale. + </p> + <p> + Still she looked a little oppressed, as she locked up the tokens of her + wealth, and the sunshine of her face did not beam out again till she + arrived at Stoneborough, and was dispensing her pretty thanks to the few + she found at home. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel out and Norman? His seal is only too pretty—” + </p> + <p> + “They are all helping Dr. Spencer at Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity! But it is so very kind of him to treat me as a daisy. In + some ways I like his present for that the best of all,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell him so,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, no,” said Meta. “I am not pretending to be anything half so nice.” + </p> + <p> + Mary and Blanche fell upon her for calling herself anything but the nicest + flower in the world; and she contended that she was nothing better than a + parrot-tulip, stuck up in a parterre; and just as the discussion was + becoming a game at romps, Dr. May came in, and the children shouted to him + to say whether his humming-bird were a daisy or a tulip. + </p> + <p> + “That is as she comports herself,” he said playfully. + </p> + <p> + “Which means that you don’t think her quite done for,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite,” said the doctor, with a droll intonation; “but I have not + seen what this morning may have done to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Come and see, then,” said Meta. “Flora told me to bring you home—and + it is my birthday, you know. Never mind waiting to tell Ethel. Margaret + will let her know that I’ll keep you out of mischief.” + </p> + <p> + As usual, Dr. May could not withstand her, and she carried him off in + triumph in her pony carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Then you don’t give me up yet?” was the first thing she said, as they + were off the stones. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing to make me?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Doing or not doing—one or the other,” she said. “But indeed I + wanted to have you to myself. I am in a great puzzle!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry! I hope she won’t consult me!” thought Dr. May, as he answered, + “Well, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear it is a lasting puzzle,” she said. “What shall I do with all this + money?” + </p> + <p> + “Keep it in the bank, or buy railway shares!” said Dr. May, looking arch. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. That’s a question for my cousins in the city. I want you to + answer me as no one else can do. I want to know what is my duty now that I + have my means in my own hands?” + </p> + <p> + “There is need enough around—” + </p> + <p> + “I do not mean only giving a little here and there, but I want you to hear + a few of my thoughts. Flora and George are kindness itself—but, you + see, I have no duties. They are obliged to live a gay sort of life—it + is their position; but I cannot make out whether it is mine. I don’t see + that I am like those girls who have to go out as a matter of obedience.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. May considered, but could only say, “You are very young.” + </p> + <p> + “Too young to be independent,” sighed Meta. “I must grow old enough to be + trusted alone, and in the meantime—” + </p> + <p> + “Probably an answer will be found,” said the doctor. “You and your means + will find their—their vocation.” + </p> + <p> + “Marriage,” said Meta, calmly speaking the word that he had avoided. “I + think not.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think good men like heiresses.” + </p> + <p> + He became strongly interested in a corn-field, and she resumed, + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I should only do harm. It may be my duty to wait. All I wish to + know is, whether it is?” + </p> + <p> + “I see you are not like girls who know their duty, and are restless, + because it is not the duty they like.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I like everything. It is my liking it so much that makes me afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Even going to Ryde?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t I like the sailing? and seeing Harry too? I don’t feel as if that + were waste, because I can sometimes spare poor Flora a little. We could + not let her go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You need never fear to be without a mission of comfort,” said Dr. May. + “Your ‘spirit full of glee’ was given you for something. Your presence is + far more to my poor Flora than you or she guess.” + </p> + <p> + “I never meant to leave her now,” said Meta earnestly. “I only wished to + be clear whether I ought to seek for my work.” + </p> + <p> + “It will seek you, when the time comes.” + </p> + <p> + “And meantime I must do what comes to hand, and take it as humiliation + that it is not in the more obviously blessed tasks! A call might come, as + Cocksmoor did to Ethel. But oh! my money! Ought it to be laid up for + myself?” + </p> + <p> + “For your call, when it comes,” said Dr. May, smiling; then gravely, + “There are but too many calls for the interest. The principal is your + trust, till the time comes.” + </p> + <p> + Meta smiled, and was pleased to think that her first-fruits would be + offered to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” sighed Etheldred, as she fastened her white muslin, “I’m + afraid it is my nature to hate my neighbour.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ethel, what is coming next?” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “I like my neighbour at home, and whom I have to work for, very much,” + said Ethel, “but oh! my neighbour that I have to be civil to!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old King! I am afraid your day will be spoiled with all your toils + as lady of the house. I wish I could help you.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me have my grumble out, and you will!” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am sorry you have this bustle, and so many to entertain, when I + know you would rather have the peaceful feelings belonging to the day + undisturbed. I should like to shelter you up here.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very ungrateful of me,” said Ethel, “when Dr. Spencer works so hard + for us, not to be willing to grant anything to him.” + </p> + <p> + “And—but then I have none of the trouble of it—I can’t help + liking the notion of sending out the Church to the island whence the + Church came home to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—” said Ethel, “if we could do it without holding forth!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Ethel, it is much better than the bazaar—it is no field for + vanity.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said Ethel. “What a mess every one will make! Oh, if I + could but stay away, like Harry! There will be Dr. Hoxton being sonorous + and prosy, and Mr. Lake will stammer, and that will be nothing to the + misery of our own people’s work. George will flounder, and look at Flora, + and she will sit with her eyes on the ground, and Dr. Spencer will come + out of his proper self, and be complimentary to people who deserve it no + more!—And Norman! I wish I could run away!” + </p> + <p> + “Richard says we do not guess how well Norman speaks.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard thinks Norman can do anything he can’t do himself! It is all + chance—he may do very well, if he gets into his ‘funny state’, but + he always suffers for that, and he will certainly put one into an agony at + the outset. I wish Dr. Spencer would have let him alone! And then there + will be that Sir Henry, whom I can’t abide! Oh, I wish I were more + charitable, like Miss Bracy and Mary, who will think all so beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + “So will you, when you come home,” said Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “If I could only be talking to Cherry, and Dame Hall! I think the school + children enter into it very nicely, Margaret. Did I tell you how nicely + Ellen Reid answered about the hymn, ‘From Greenland’s icy mountains’? She + did not seem to have made it a mere geographical lesson, like Fanny Grigg—” + </p> + <p> + Ethel’s misanthropy was happily conducted off via the Cocksmoor children, + and any lingering remains were dissipated by her amusement at Dr. + Spencer’s ecstasy on seeing Dr. May assume his red robe of office, to go + to the minster in state, with the Town Council. He walked round and round + his friend, called him Nicholas Randall redivivus, quoted Dogberry, and + affronted Gertrude, who had a dim idea that he was making game of papa. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was one of those to whom representation was such a penance, that a + festival, necessitating hospitality to guests of her own rank, was burden + enough seriously to disturb the repose of thankfulness for the attainment + of her object, and to render difficult the recueillement which she needed + for the praise and prayer that she felt due from her, and which seemed to + oppress her heart, by a sense of inadequacy of her partial expression. It + was well for her that the day began with the calm service in the minster, + where it was her own fault if cares haunted her, and she could confess the + sin of her irritated sensations, and wishes to have all her own way, and + then, as ever, be led aright into thanksgiving for the unlooked-for + crowning of her labours. + </p> + <p> + The archdeacon’s sermon amplified what Margaret had that morning + expressed, so as to carry on her sense of appropriateness in the offerings + of the day being bestowed on distant lands. + </p> + <p> + But the ordeal was yet to come, and though blaming herself, she was + anything but comfortable, as the world repaired to the Town Hall, the room + where the same faces so often met for such diverse purposes—now an + orrery displayed by a conceited lecturer, now a ball, now a magistrates’ + meeting, a concert or a poultry show, where rival Hamburg and Dorking + uplifted their voices in the places of Mario and Grisi, all beneath the + benignant portrait of Nicholas Randall, ruffed, robed, square-toed, his + endowment of the scholarship in his hand, and a chequered pavement at his + feet. + </p> + <p> + Who knows not an S. P. G. meeting?—the gaiety of the serious, and + the first public spectacle to the young, who, like Blanche and Aubrey, + gaze with admiration at the rows of bonnets, and with awe at the black + coats on the platform, while the relations of the said black coats suffer, + like Ethel, from nervous dread of the public speaking of their best + friends. + </p> + <p> + Her expectations were realised by the archdeacon’s speech, which went + round in a circle, as if he could not find his way out of it. Lord Cosham + was fluent, but a great many words went to very small substance; and no + wonder, thought Ethel, when all they had to propose and second was the + obvious fact that missions were very good things. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Hoxton pompously, Sir Henry Walkinghame creditably, assisted the + ladies and gentlemen to resolve that the S. P. G. wanted help; Mr. Lake + made a stammering, and Mr. Rivers, with his good-natured face, hearty + manner, and good voice, came in well after him with a straightforward, + speech, so brief, that Ethel gave Flora credit for the best she had yet + heard. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wilmot said something which the sharpest ears in the front row might, + perhaps, have heard, and which resulted in Dr. Spencer standing up. Ethel + hardly would have known who was speaking had her eyes been shut. His voice + was so different, when raised and pitched, so as to show its power and + sweetness; the fine polish of his manner was redoubled, and every sentence + had the most graceful turn. It was like listening to a well-written book, + so smooth and so fluent, and yet so earnest—his pictures of Indian + life so beautiful, and his strong affection for the converts he described + now and then making his eyes fill, and his voice falter, as if losing the + thread of his studied composition—a true and dignified work of art, + that made Dr. May whisper to Flora, “You see what he can do. They would + have given anything to have had him for a lecturer.” + </p> + <p> + With half a sigh, Ethel saw Norman rise, and step forward. He began, with + eyes fixed on the ground, and in a low modest tone, to speak of the + islands that Harry had visited; but gradually the poetic nature, inherent + in him, gained the mastery; and though his language was strikingly simple, + in contrast with Dr. Spencer’s ornate periods, and free from all trace of + “the lamp,” it rose in beauty and fervour at every sentence. The feelings + that had decided his lot gave energy to his discourse, and repressed as + they had been by reserve and diffidence, now flowed forth, and gave + earnestness to natural gifts of eloquence of the highest order. After his + quiet, unobtrusive beginning, there was the more wonder to find how he + seemed to raise up the audience with him, in breathless attention, as to a + strain of sweet music, carrying them without thought of the scene, or of + the speaker, to the lovely isles, and the inhabitants of noble promise, + but withering for lack of knowledge; and finally closing his speech, when + they were wrought up to the highest pitch, by an appeal that touched them + all home; “for well did he know,” said he, “that the universal brotherhood + was drawn closest in circles nearer home, that beneath the shadow of their + own old minster, gladness and mourning floated alike for all; and that all + those who had shared in the welcome to one, given back as it were from the + grave, would own the same debt of gratitude to the hospitable islanders.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased. His father wiped his spectacles, and almost audibly murmured, + “Bless him!” Ethel, who had sat like one enchanted, forgetting who spoke, + forgetting all save the islanders, half turned, and met Richard’s smiling + eyes, and his whisper, “I told you so.” + </p> + <p> + The impress of a man of true genius and power had been made throughout the + whole assembly; the archdeacon put Norman out of countenance by the thanks + of the meeting for his admirable speech, and all the world, except the + Oxford men, were in a state of as much surprise as pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Splendid speaker, Norman May, if he would oftener put himself out,” + Harvey Anderson commented. “Pity he has so many of the good doctor’s + prejudices!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, to be sure!” quoth Mrs. Ledwich. “I knew Mr. Norman was very + clever, but I declare I never thought of such as this! I will try my poor + utmost for those interesting natives.” + </p> + <p> + “That youth has first-rate talents,” said Lord Cosham. “Do you know what + he is designed for? I should like to bring him forward.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Dr. Hoxton. “The year I sent off May and Anderson was the + proudest year of my life!” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word!” declared Mrs. Elwood. “That Dr. Spencer is as good as a + book, but Mr. Norman—I say, father, we will go without the new + clock, but we’ll send somewhat to they men that built up the church, and + has no minister.” + </p> + <p> + “A good move that,” said Dr. Spencer. “Worth at least twenty pounds. That + boy has the temperament of an orator, if the morbid were but a grain + less.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Margaret,” exclaimed Blanche. “Dr. Spencer made the finest speech you + ever heard, only it was rather tiresome; and Norman made everybody cry—and + Mary worse than all!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no speaking of it. One should live such things, not talk over + them,” said Meta Rivers. + </p> + <p> + Margaret received the reports of the select few, who visited her upstairs, + where she was kept quiet, and only heard the hum of the swarm, whom Dr. + May, in vehement hospitality, had brought home to luncheon, to Ethel’s + great dread, lest there should not be enough for them to eat. + </p> + <p> + Margaret pitied her sisters, but heard that all was going well; that Flora + was taking care of the elders, and Harry and Mary were making the younger + fry very merry at the table on the lawn. Dr. May had to start early to see + a sick gardener at Drydale before coming on to Cocksmoor, and came up to + give his daughter a few minutes. + </p> + <p> + “We get on famously,” he said. “Ethel does well when she is in for it, + like Norman. I had no notion what was in the lad. They are perfectly + amazed with his speech. It seems hard to give such as he is up to those + outlandish places; but there, his speech should have taught me better—one’s + best—and, now and then, he seems my best.” + </p> + <p> + “One comfort is,” said Margaret, smiling, “you would miss Ethel more.” + </p> + <p> + “Gallant old King! I am glad she has had her wish. Good-bye, my Margaret, + we will think of you. I wish—” + </p> + <p> + “I am very happy,” was Margaret’s gentle reassurance. “The dear little + Daisy looks just as her godfather imagined her;” and happy was her face + when her father quitted her. + </p> + <p> + Margaret’s next visitor was Meta, who came to reclaim her bonnet, and, + with a merry smile, to leave word that she was walking on to Cocksmoor. + Margaret remonstrated on the heat. + </p> + <p> + “Let me alone,” said she, making her pretty wilful gesture. “Ethel and + Mary ought to have a lift, and I have had no walking to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, you don’t know how far it is. You can’t go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I am lying in wait for Miss Bracy, or something innocent,” said Meta. “In + good time—here comes Tom.” + </p> + <p> + Tom entered, declaring that he had come to escape from the clack + downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll promise not to clack if you will be so kind as to take care of me to + Cocksmoor,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Do you intend to walk?” + </p> + <p> + “If you will let me be your companion.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be most happy,” said Tom, colouring with gratification, such as + he might not have felt, had he known that he was chosen for his innocence. + </p> + <p> + He took a passing glimpse at his neck-tie, screwed up the nap of his + glossy hat to the perfection of its central point, armed himself with a + knowing little stick, and hurried his fair companion out by the back door, + as much afraid of losing the glory of being her sole protector as she was + of falling in with an escort of as much consequence, in other eyes, as was + Mr. Thomas in his own. + </p> + <p> + She knew him less than any of the rest, and her first amusement was + keeping silence to punish him for complaining of clack; but he explained + that he did not mean quiet, sensible conversation—he only referred + to those foolish women’s raptures over the gabble they had been hearing at + the Town Hall. + </p> + <p> + She exclaimed, whereupon he began to criticise the speakers with a good + deal of acuteness, exposing the weak points, but magnanimously owning that + it was tolerable for the style of thing, and might go down at + Stoneborough. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder you did not stay away as Harry did.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it would be marked,” observed the thread-paper Tom, as if he + had been at least county member. + </p> + <p> + “You did quite right,” said Meta, really thinking so. + </p> + <p> + “I wished to hear Dr. Spencer, too,” said Tom. “There is a man who does + know how to speak! He has seen something of the world, and knows what he + is talking of.” + </p> + <p> + “But he did not come near Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “I hated listening to Norman,” said Tom. “Why should he go and set his + heart on those black savages?” + </p> + <p> + “They are not savages in New Zealand.” + </p> + <p> + “They are all niggers together,” said Tom vehemently. “I cannot think why + Norman should care for them more than for his own brothers and sisters. + All I know is, that if I were my father, I would never give my consent.” + </p> + <p> + “It is lucky you are not,” said Meta, smiling defiance, though a tear + shone in her eye. “Dr. May makes the sacrifice with a free heart and + willing mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody goes and sacrifices somebody else,” grumbled Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Who are the victims now?” + </p> + <p> + “All of us. What are we to do without Norman? He is worth all of us put + together; and I—” Meta was drawn to the boy as she had never been + before, as he broke off short, his face full of emotion, that made him + remind her of his father. + </p> + <p> + “You might go out and follow in his steps,” said she, as the most + consoling hope she could suggest. + </p> + <p> + “Not I. Don’t you know what is to happen to me? Ah! Flora has not told + you. I thought she would not think it grand enough. She talked about + diplomacy—” + </p> + <p> + “But what?” asked Meta anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Only that I am to stick to the old shop,” said Tom. “Don’t tell any one; + I would not have the fellows know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean your father’s profession?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tom! you don’t talk of that as if you despised it?” + </p> + <p> + “If it is good enough for him, it is good enough for me, I suppose,” said + Tom. “I hate everything when I think of my brothers going over the world, + while I, do what I will, must be tied down to this slow place all the rest + of my days.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were away, you would be longing after it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I can’t get away.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, if the notion is so unpleasant to you, Dr. May would never + insist?” + </p> + <p> + “It is my free choice, and that’s the worst of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see? Norman told me it would be a great relief to him if I + would turn my mind that way—and I can’t go against Norman. I found + he thought he must if I did not; and, you know, he is fit for all sorts of + things that—Besides, he has a squeamishness about him, that makes + him turn white, if one does but cut one’s finger, and how he would ever go + through the hospitals—” + </p> + <p> + Meta suspected that Tom was inclined to launch into horrors. “So you + wanted to spare him,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Ay! and papa was so pleased by my offering that I can’t say a word of the + bore it is. If I were to back out, it would come upon Aubrey, and he is + weakly, and so young, that he could not help my father for many years.” + </p> + <p> + Meta was much struck at the motives that actuated the self-sacrifice, + veiled by the sullen manner which she almost began to respect. “What is + done for such reasons must make you happy,” she said; “though there may be + much that is disagreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the study,” said Tom. “The science is famous work. I like what I see + of it in my father’s books, and there’s a splendid skeleton at the + hospital that I long to be at. If it were not for Stoneborough, it would + be all very well; but, if I should get on ever so well at the + examinations, it all ends there! I must come back, and go racing about + this miserable circuit, just like your gold pheasant rampaging in his + cage, seeing the same stupid people all my days.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Meta, in a low, heartfelt voice, “it is a noble, beautiful + thing to curb down your ambition for such causes. Tom, I like you for it.” + </p> + <p> + The glance of those beautiful eyes was worth having. Tom coloured a + little, but assumed his usual gruffness. “I can’t bear sick people,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “It has always seemed to me,” said Meta, “that few lives could come up to + Dr. May’s. Think of going about, always watched for with hope, often + bringing gladness and relief; if nothing else, comfort and kindness, his + whole business doing good.” + </p> + <p> + “One is paid for it,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing could ever repay Dr. May,” said Meta. “Can any one feel the fee + anything but a mere form? Besides, think of the numbers and numbers that + he takes nothing from; and oh! to how many he has brought the most real + good, when they would have shut their doors against it in any other form! + Oh, Tom, I think none of you guess how every one feels about your father. + I recollect one poor woman saying, after he had attended her brother, ‘He + could not save his body, but, surely, ma’am, I think he was the saving of + his soul.’” + </p> + <p> + “It is of no use to talk of my being like my father,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + Meta thought perhaps not, but she was full of admiration of his + generosity, and said, “You will make it the same work of love, and charity + is the true glory.” + </p> + <p> + Any inroad on Tom’s reserved and depressed nature was a benefit; and he + was of an age to be susceptible of the sympathy of one so pretty and so + engaging. He had never been so much gratified or encouraged, and, wishing + to prolong the tete-a-tete, he chose to take the short cut through the + fir-plantations, unfrequented on account of the perpendicular, spiked + railings that divided it from the lane. + </p> + <p> + Meta was humming-bird enough to be undismayed. She put hand and foot + wherever he desired, flattered him by letting him handily help her up, and + bounded light as a feather down on the other side, congratulating herself + on the change from the dusty lane to the whispering pine woods, between + which wound the dark path, bestrewn with brown slippery needle-leaves, and + edged with the delicate feathering ling and tufts of soft grass. + </p> + <p> + Tom had miscalculated the chances of interruption. Meta was lingering to + track the royal highway of some giant ants to their fir-leaf hillock, when + they were hailed from behind, and her squire felt ferocious at the sight + of Norman and Harry closing the perspective of fir-trunks. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! Tom, what a guide you are!” exclaimed Norman. “That fence which + even Ethel and Mary avoid!” + </p> + <p> + “Mary climbs like a cow, and Ethel like a father-long-legs,” said Tom. + “Now Meta flies like a bird.” + </p> + <p> + “And Tom helped me so cleverly,” said Meta. “It was an excellent move, to + get into the shade and this delicious pine tree fragrance.” + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” said Norman—“this is too fast for Meta.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” said Harry. “I must get there in time to set Dr. Spencer’s + tackle to rights. He is tolerably knowing about knots, but there is a + dodge beyond him. Come on, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + He drew on the reluctant Etonian, who looked repiningly back at the + increasing distance between him and the other pair, till a turn in the + path cut off his view. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you do not know what you have undertaken,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “I am a capital walker. And I know, or do not know, how often Ethel takes + the same walk.” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel is no rule.” + </p> + <p> + “She ought to be,” said Meta. “To be like her has always been my + ambition.” + </p> + <p> + “Circumstances have formed Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “Circumstances! What an ambiguous word! Either Providence pointing to + duty, or the world drawing us from it.” + </p> + <p> + “Stepping-stones, or stumbling-blocks.” + </p> + <p> + “And, oh! the difficult question, when to bend them, or to bend to them!” + </p> + <p> + “There must be always some guiding,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “I believe there is,” said Meta, “but when trumpet-peals are ringing + around, it is hard to know whether one is really ‘waiting beside the + tent,’ or only dawdling.” + </p> + <p> + “It is great self-denial in the immovable square not to join the charge,” + said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but they, being shot at, are not deceiving themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose self-deception on those points is very common.” + </p> + <p> + “Especially among young ladies,” said Meta. “I hear so much of what girls + would do, if they might, or could, that I long to see them like Ethel—do + what they can. And then it strikes me that I am doing the same, living + wilfully in indulgence, and putting my trust in my own misgivings and + discontent.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought that discontent had as little to do with you as + with any living creature.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know how I could growl!” said Meta, laughing. “Though less from + having anything to complain of, than from having nothing to complain of.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” he said, pausing, with a seriousness and hesitation that + startled her—“do you mean that this is not the course of life that + you would choose?” + </p> + <p> + A sort of bashfulness made her put her answer playfully— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy. +</pre> + <p> + “Toys have a kindly mission, and I may be good for nothing else; but I + would have rather been a coffee-pot than a china shepherdess.” + </p> + <p> + The gaiety disconcerted him, and he seemed to try to be silent, or to + reply in the same tone, but he could not help returning to the subject. + “Then you find no charm in the refinements to which you have been brought + up?” + </p> + <p> + “Only too much,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + He was silent, and fearing to have added to his fine-lady impression, she + resumed. “I mean that I never could dislike anything, and kindness gives + these things a soul; but, of course, I should be better satisfied, if I + lived harder, and had work to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Meta!” he exclaimed, “you tempt me very much! Would you?—No, it is + too unreasonable. Would you share—share the work that I have + undertaken?” + </p> + <p> + He turned aside and leaned against a tree, as if not daring to watch the + effect of the agitated words that had broken from him. She had little + imagined whither his last sayings had been tending, and stood still, + breathless with the surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” he said hastily. “It was very wrong. I never meant to have + vexed you by the betrayal of my vain affection.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be going, and this roused her. “Stay, Norman,” exclaimed she. + “Why should it vex me? I should like it very much indeed.” + </p> + <p> + He faced suddenly towards her—“Meta, Meta! is it possible? Do you + know what you are saying?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I do.” + </p> + <p> + “You must understand me,” said Norman, striving to speak calmly. “You have + been—words will not express what you have been to me for years past, + but I thought you too far beyond my hopes. I knew I ought to be removed + from you—I believed that those who are debarred from earthly + happiness are marked for especial tasks. I never intended you to know what + actuated me, and now the work is undertaken, and—and I cannot turn + back,” he added quickly, as if fearing himself. + </p> + <p> + “No indeed,” was her steady reply. + </p> + <p> + “Then I may believe it!” cried Norman. “You do—you will—you + deliberately choose to share it with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I will try not to be a weight on you,” answered the young girl, with a + sweet mixture of resolution and humility. “It would be the greatest + possible privilege. I really do not think I am a fine lady ingrain, and + you will teach me not to be too unworthy.” + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh, Meta, you know not what I am! Yet with you, with you to inspire, + to strengthen, to cheer—Meta, Meta, life is so much changed before + me, that I cannot understand it yet—after the long dreary + hopelessness—” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t think why—” Meta had half said, when feminine dignity + checked the words, consciousness and confusion suddenly assailed her, dyed + her cheeks crimson, and stifled her voice. + </p> + <p> + It was the same with Norman, and bashfulness making a sudden prey of both—on + they went under its dominion, in a condition partaking equally of + discomfort and felicity; dreading the sound of their own voices, afraid of + each other’s faces, feeling they were treating each other very strangely + and ungratefully, yet without an idea what to say next, or the power of + speaking first; and therefore pacing onwards, looking gravely straight + along the path, as if to prevent the rabbits and foxgloves from guessing + that anything had been passing between them. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May had made his call at Drydale, and was driving up a rough lane, + between furzy banks, leading to Cocksmoor, when he was aware of a tall + gentleman on one side of the road and a little lady on the other, with the + whole space of the cart-track between them, advancing soberly towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! Why, Meta! Norman! what brings you here? Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + Norman perceived that he had turned to the left instead of to the right, + and was covered with shame. + </p> + <p> + “That is all your wits are good for. It is well I met you, or you would + have led poor Meta a pretty dance! You will know better than to trust + yourself to the mercies of a scholar another time. Let me give you a + lift.” + </p> + <p> + The courteous doctor sprang out to hand Meta in, but something made him + suddenly desire Adams to drive on, and then turning round to the two young + people, he said, “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norman, taking her hand, and drawing her towards him. + </p> + <p> + “What, Meta, my pretty one, is it really so? Is he to be happy after all? + Are you to be a Daisy of my own?” + </p> + <p> + “If you will let me,” murmured Meta, clinging to her kind old friend. + </p> + <p> + “No flower on earth could come so naturally to us,” said Dr. May. “And, + dear child, at last I may venture to tell you that you have a sanction + that you will value more than mine. Yes, my dear, on the last day of your + dear father’s life, when some foreboding hung upon him, he spoke to me of + your prospects, and singled out this very Norman as such as he would + prefer.” + </p> + <p> + Meta’s tears prevented all, save the two little words, “thank you;” but + she put out her hand to Norman, as she still rested on the doctor’s arm, + more as if he had been her mother than Norman’s father. + </p> + <p> + “Did he?” from Norman, was equally inexpressive of the almost incredulous + gratitude and tenderness of his feeling. + </p> + <p> + It would not bear talking over at that moment, and Dr. May presently broke + the silence in a playful tone. “So, Meta, good men don’t like heiresses?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true,” said Meta, “it was very much against me.” + </p> + <p> + “Or it may be the other way,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Good men don’t like heiresses—here’s a man who likes an heiress—therefore + here’s a man that is not good? Ah, ha! Meta, you can see that is false + logic, though I’ve forgotten mine. And pray, miss, what are we to say to + your uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “He cannot help it,” said Meta quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said the doctor, laughing, “we remember our twenty-one years, do + we?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean—I hope I said nothing wrong,” said Meta, in blushing + distress. “Only after what you said, I can care for nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could only thank him,” said Norman fervently. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you know how to do that, my boy,” said Dr. May, looking + tenderly at the fairy figure between them, and ending with a sigh, + remembering, perhaps, the sense of protection with which he had felt + another Margaret lean on his arm. + </p> + <p> + The clatter of horses’ hoofs caused Meta to withdraw her hand, and Norman + to retreat to his own side of the lane, as Sir Henry Walkinghame and his + servant overtook them. + </p> + <p> + “We will be in good time for the proceedings,” called out the doctor. + “Tell them we are coming.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know you were walking,” said Sir Henry to Meta. + </p> + <p> + “It is pleasant in the plantations,” Dr. May answered for her; “but I am + afraid we are late, and our punctual friends will be in despair. Will you + kindly say we are at hand?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry rode on, finding that he was not to be allowed to walk his horse + with them, and that Miss Rivers had never looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Sir Henry!” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “He has no right to be surprised,” said Meta, very low. + </p> + <p> + “And so you were marching right upon Drydale!” continued Dr. May, not able + to help laughing. “It was a happy dispensation that I met you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad of it!” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Though to be sure you were disarming suspicion by so cautiously keeping + the road between you. I should never have guessed what you had been at.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little pause, then Meta said, rather tremulously, “Please—I + think it should be known at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Our idle deeds confessed without loss of time, miss?” + </p> + <p> + Norman came across the path, saying, “Meta is right—it should be + known.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think Uncle Cosham would object, especially hearing it while he + is here,” said Meta—“and if he knew what you told us.” + </p> + <p> + “He goes to-morrow, does he not?” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + A silence of perplexity ensued. Meta, brave as she was, hardly knew her + uncle enough to volunteer, and Norman was privately devising a beginning + by the way of George, when Dr. May said, “Well, since it is not a case for + putting Ethel in the forefront, I must e’en get it over for you, I + suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you,” they cried both at once, feeling that he was the proper + person in every way, and Norman added, “The sooner the better, if Meta—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, yes, the sooner the better,” exclaimed Meta. “And let me tell + Flora—poor dear Flora—she is always so kind.” + </p> + <p> + A testimony that was welcome to Dr. May, who had once, at least, been + under the impression that Flora courted Sir Henry’s attentions to her + sister-in-law. + </p> + <p> + Further consultation was hindered by Tom and Blanche bursting upon them + from the common, both echoing Norman’s former reproach of “A pretty + guide!” and while Blanche explained the sufferings of all the assembly at + their tardiness, Tom, without knowing it, elucidated what had been a + mystery to the doctor, namely, how they ever met, by his indignation at + Norman’s having assumed the guidance for which he was so unfit. + </p> + <p> + “A shocking leader; Meta will never trust him again,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + Still Blanche thought them not nearly sufficiently sensible of their + enormities, and preached eagerly about their danger of losing + standing-room, when they emerged on the moor, and beheld a crowd, above + whose heads rose the apex of a triangle, formed by three poles, sustaining + a rope and huge stone. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes Dr. Spencer,” she said. “I hope he will scold you.” + </p> + <p> + Whatever Dr. Spencer might have suffered, he was far too polite to scold, + and a glance between the two physicians ended in a merry twinkle of his + bright eyes. + </p> + <p> + “This way,” he said; “we are all ready.” + </p> + <p> + “But where’s my little Daisy?” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll see her in a minute. She is as good as gold.” + </p> + <p> + He drew them on up the bank—people making way for them—till he + had stationed them among the others of their own party, beside the deep + trench that traced the foundation, around a space that seemed far too + small. + </p> + <p> + Nearly at the same moment began the soft clear sound of chanting wafted + upon the wind, then dying away—carried off by some eddying breeze, + then clear, and coming nearer and nearer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I will not suffer mine eyes to sleep, + Nor mine eye-lids to slumber: + Neither the temples of my head to take any rest; + Until I find out a place for the temple of the Lord: + An habitation for the mighty God of Jacob. +</pre> + <p> + Few, who knew the history of Cocksmoor, could help glancing towards the + slight girl, who stood, with bent head, her hand clasped over little + Aubrey’s; while, all that was not prayer and thanksgiving in her mind, was + applying the words to him, whose head rested in the Pacific isle, while, + in the place which he had chosen, was laid the foundation of the temple + that he had given unto the Lord. + </p> + <p> + There came forth the procession: the minster choristers, Dr. Spencer as + architect, and, in her white dress, little Gertrude, led between Harry and + Hector, Margaret’s special choice for the occasion, and followed by the + Stoneborough clergy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let thy priests be clothed with righteousness. +</pre> + <p> + It came in well with the gentle, meek, steadfast face of the young curate + of Cocksmoor, as he moved on in his white robe, and the sunlight shone + upon his fair hair, and calm brow, thankful for the past, and hoping, more + than fearing, for the future. + </p> + <p> + The prayers were said, and there was a pause, while Dr. Spencer and the + foreman advanced to the machine and adjusted it. The two youths then led + forward the little girl, her innocent face and large blue eyes wearing a + look of childish obedient solemnity, only half understanding what she did, + yet knowing it was something great. + </p> + <p> + It was very pretty to see her in the midst of the little gathering round + the foundation, the sturdy workman smiling over his hod of mortar, Dr. + Spencer’s silver locks touching her flaxen curls as he held the shining + trowel to her, and Harry’s bright head and hardy face, as he knelt on one + knee to guide the little soft hand, while Hector stood by, still and + upright, his eyes fixed far away, as if his thoughts were roaming to the + real founder. + </p> + <p> + The Victoria coins were placed—Gertrude scooped up the mass of + mortar, and spread it about with increasing satisfaction, as it went so + smoothly and easily, prolonging the operation, till Harry drew her back, + while, slowly down creaked the ponderous corner-stone into the bed that + she had prepared for it, and, with a good will, she gave three taps on it + with her trowel. + </p> + <p> + Harry had taken her hand, when, at the sight of Dr. May, she broke from + him, and, as if taking sudden fright at her own unwonted part, ran, at + full speed, straight up to her father, and clung to him, hiding her face + as he raised her in his arms and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the strain arose: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thou heavenly, new Jerusalem, + Vision of peace, in Prophet’s dream; + With living stones, built up on high, + And rising to the starry sky— +</pre> + <p> + The blessing of peace seemed to linger softly and gently in the fragrant + summer breeze, and there was a pause ere the sounds of voices awoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Etheldred—” Mr. Wilmot stood beside her, ere going to unrobe in the + school—“Etheldred, you must once let me say, God bless you for + this.” + </p> + <p> + As she knelt beside her sister’s sofa, on her return home, Margaret + pressed something into her hand. “If you please, dearest, give this to Dr. + Spencer, and ask him to let it be set round the stem of the chalice,” she + whispered. + </p> + <p> + Ethel recognised Alan Ernescliffe’s pearl hoop, the betrothal ring, and + looked at her sister without a word. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it,” said Margaret gently. “I shall like best to know it there.” + </p> + <p> + So Margaret joined in Alan’s offering, and Ethel dared say no more, as she + thought how the “relic of a frail love lost” was becoming the “token of + endless love begun.” There was more true union in this, than in clinging + to the mere tangible emblem—for broken and weak is all affection + that is not knit together above in the One Infinite Love. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Of lowly fields you think no scorn, + Yet gayest gardens would adorn, + And grace wherever set; + Home, seated in your lowly bower, + Or wedded, a transplanted flower, + I bless you, Margaret.—CHARLES LAMB. +</pre> + <p> + George Rivers had an antipathy to ladies’ last words keeping the horses + standing, and his wife and sister dutifully seated themselves in the + carriage at once, without an attempt to linger. + </p> + <p> + Four of the young gentlemen were to walk across to Abbotstoke and dine at + the Grange; and Tom, who, reasoning from analogy, had sent on his black + tie and agate studs, was so dismally disconcerted on finding that Norman + treated his own going as a matter of course, that Richard, whose chief use + of his right of primogeniture was to set himself aside, discovered that he + was wanted at home, and that Tom would be much better at the Grange, + offering, at the same time, to send Norman’s dressing things by Dr. + Spencer. + </p> + <p> + “Which,” observed Thomas, “he would never have recollected for himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom would have had to lend him the precious studs.”—“He would not + have had them; who would wear imitation?” “I say, Tom, what did you give + for them?” “Better ask what the Jew gave for them, that bought them at + Windsor Fair; not a bad imitation, either—pity they weren’t + Malachite; but, no doubt, the Jew thought green would be personal.” “As if + they had any business to talk, who didn’t know a respectable stud when + they saw it—Harry, especially, with his hat set on the back of his + head, like a sailor on the stage”—(a leap to set it to rights—a + skirmish, knocking Tom nearly into the ditch). “Fine experience of the + stage—all came from Windsor Fair.” “Ay, Hector might talk, but + didn’t he pay a shilling to see the Irish giant. He wouldn’t confess, but + it was a famous take in—giant had potatoes in his shoes.” “Not he; + he was seven feet ten high.” “Ay, when he stood upon a stool—Hector + would swallow anything—even the lady of a million postage stamps had + not stuck in his throat—he had made Margaret collect for her.” “And, + had not Tom, himself, got a bottle of ointment to get the red out of his + hair?”—(great fury). “His hair wasn’t red—didn’t want to + change the colour—not half so red as Hector’s own.” “What was it + then? lively auburn?” But for fear of Norman’s losing his bearings, Harry + would fetch a carrot, to compare. “Better colour than theirs could ever + be.” “Then what was the ointment for? to produce whiskers? that was the + reason Tom oiled himself like a Loyalty islander—his hair was so + shiny, that Harry recommended a top-knot, like theirs, etc.” + </p> + <p> + Norman was, like the others, in such towering glee, and took so full a + share of the witticisms, that were the more noisily applauded, the worse + they were, that Harry suggested that “old June had lost his way, and found + his spirits in Drydale—he must have met with a private grog-shop in + the plantations—would not Tom confess”—“not he; it was all in + private. He thought it was laughing-gas, or the reaction of being fried + all the morning, holding forth in that Town Hall. He had longed to make a + speech himself—no end of the good it would have done the old stagers + to come out with something to the purpose. What would old Hoxton have + thought of it? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “They shall dive for alligators, catch the wild goats by the beard; + Whistle to the cockatoos, and mock the hairy-faced baboon; + Worship mighty Mumbo Jumbo in the mountains of the moon. + I myself, in far Timbuctoo, leopard’s blood shall daily quaff; + Ride a tiger hunting, mounted on a thoroughbred giraffe.” + </pre> + <p> + “Not you, Tom!” cried Hector. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “You, the swell, the Eton fellow! You, to seek such horrid places. + You to haunt with squalid negroes, blubber lips, and monkey faces. + Fool, again the dream, the fancy; don’t I know the words are mad, + For you count the gray barbarian lower than the Brocas cad!” + </pre> + <p> + “Nay, it is the consequence of misanthropy at the detection of the frauds + of unsophisticated society,” said Norman. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The edge of life is rusted; + The agate studs and whisker ointment left him very much disgusted. +</pre> + <p> + “Perhaps it was Miss Rivers forsaking him. Was not that rather + spider-hearted, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Harry, it is time to have done. We are getting into civilised + society—here’s Abbotstoke.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Norman, he is very far gone! He takes that scarecrow for civilised + society!” + </p> + <p> + “Much better clothed than the society you have been accustomed to, July.” + “What a prize his wardrobe would be to the Black Prince!” “Don’t insult + your betters!” “Which? The scarecrow, or the Black Prince?” + </p> + <p> + Norman tried to call his companions to order, for they were close upon the + village, and he began to tax himself with unbecoming levity; the effect of + spirits pitched rather low, which did not easily find their balance, under + unwonted exhilaration, but Harry’s antics were less easily repressed than + excited, and if Tom had not heard the Grange clock strike half-past six, + and had not been afraid of not having time to array himself, and watch + over Harry’s neckcloth, they would hardly have arrived in reasonable time. + Dr. May had gone home, and there was no one in the drawing-room; but, as + Norman was following the boys upstairs, Flora opened her sitting-room + door, and attracted his attention by silently putting her cold fingers + into his hand, and drawing him into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Norman, this is pleasant,” she said affectionately; but in a voice + so sunken, that all gladness seemed to be dead within, and the effect was + far more mournful than if she had not attempted to smile congratulation. + </p> + <p> + “I will give you till Dr. Spencer comes,” she said. “Then Norman can + dress, and you must be a good child, and come down to me.” + </p> + <p> + The playfulness ill suited the wan, worn face that seemed to have caught a + gray tint from her rich poplin, her full toilet making the contrast almost + more painful; and, as she closed the door, her brother could only exclaim, + “Poor Flora!” + </p> + <p> + “She is so kind,” said the voice of the white figure that moved towards + him. “Oh, if we could comfort her!” + </p> + <p> + “I trust to her own kindness working comfort to her, at last,” said + Norman. “But is she often thus?” + </p> + <p> + “Whenever she is not bearing up for George’s sake,” said Meta. “She never + says anything when she is alone with me, only she does not struggle with + her looks.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be very trying for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I feel grateful to her for even so far relaxing the restraint. If I + could but do her any good.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot help doing her good,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + Meta sighed, and shook her head slightly, as she said, “She is so gentle + and considerate. I think this has been no fresh pain to her to-day, but I + cannot tell. The whole day has been a strange intermixture.” + </p> + <p> + “The two strands of joy and grief have been very closely twisted,” said + Norman. “That rose is shedding its fragrant leaves in its glory, and there + is much that should have chastened the overflowing gladness of to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “As I was thinking,” whispered Meta, venturing nearer to him, and looking + into his face with the sweet reliance of union in thought. She meant him + to proceed, but he paused, saying, “You were thinking-” + </p> + <p> + “I had rather hear it from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it not that we were taught to-day what is enduring, and gives true + permanence and blessedness to such—to what there was between + Ernescliffe and Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + Her dewy eyes, and face of deep emotion, owned that he had interpreted her + thought. + </p> + <p> + “Theirs would, indeed, be a disheartening example,” he said, “if it did + not show the strength and peace that distance, sickness, death, cannot + destroy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. To see that church making Margaret happy as she lies smiling on her + couch, is a lesson of lessons.” + </p> + <p> + “That what is hallowed must be blest,” said Norman; “whatever the sundry + and manifold changes.” + </p> + <p> + Each was far too humble to deny aloud any inequality with the goodness of + Alan and Margaret, knowing that it would be at once disputed, trusting to + time to prevent the over-estimate, and each believing the other was the + one to bring the blessing. + </p> + <p> + “But, Meta,” said Norman, “have you heard nothing of—of the elders?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said Meta, smiling, “have not you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen no one.” + </p> + <p> + “I have!” said Meta merrily. “Uncle Cosham is delighted. That speech of + yours has captivated him. He calls me a wise little woman to have found + out your first-rate abilities. There’s for you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand it! Surely he must be aware of my intentions?” + </p> + <p> + “He said nothing about them; but, of course, Dr. May must have mentioned + them.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought so, but I cannot suppose—” + </p> + <p> + “That he would be willing to let me go,” said Meta. “But then you know he + cannot help it,” added she, with a roguish look, at finding herself making + one of her saucy independent speeches. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you are taking a would-be missionary instead of Norman May!” he + answered, with a sort of teasing sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “All would-be missionaries did not make dear papa so fond of them,” said + Meta, very low; “and you would not be Norman May without such purposes.” + </p> + <p> + “The purpose was not inspired at first by the highest motive,” said + Norman; “but it brought me peace, and, after the kind of dedication that I + inwardly made of myself in my time of trouble, it would take some weighty + reason, amounting to a clear duty, or physical impossibility, to make me + think I ought to turn back. I believe”—the tears rose to his eyes, + and he brought out the words with difficulty—“that, if this greatest + of all joys were likely to hinder me from my calling, I ought to seek + strength to regard it as a temptation, and to forgo it.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought, if it were so,” said Meta, nevertheless holding him tighter. + “I could not bear to keep back a soldier. If this were last year, and I + had any tie or duty here, it would be very hard. But no one needs me, and + if the health I have always had be continued to me, I don’t think I shall + be much in the way. There,”—drawing back a little, and trying to + laugh off her feeling—“only tell me at once if you think me still + too much of a fine lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I—you—a fine lady! Did anything ever give you the impression + that I did?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not get poor Harry into a scrape, shall I? He told me that you + said so, last spring, and I feared you judged me too truly.” + </p> + <p> + After a few exclamations of utter surprise, it flashed on Norman. “I know, + I know—Harry interpreted my words in his own blunt fashion!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you did say something like it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but—but—In short, Meta, these sailors’ imaginations go to + great lengths. Harry had guessed more than I knew myself, before he had + sailed, and taxed me with it. It was a subject I could not bear then, and + I answered that you were too far beyond my hopes.” + </p> + <p> + “Six years ago!” said Meta slowly, blushing deeper and deeper. “Some eyes + saw it all that time, and you—and,” she added, laughing, though + rather tearfully, “I should never have known it, if Tom had not taken me + through the plantations!” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I had not discovered that your preferences did not lie—” + </p> + <p> + “Among boudoirs and balls?” said Meta. “Harry was right. You thought me a + fine lady after all.” + </p> + <p> + The gay taunt was cut short by a tap at the door, and Flora looked in. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Spencer has brought your things, Norman. I am sorry to disturb you—but + come down, Meta—I ran away very uncivilly to fetch you. I hope it is + not too cruel,” as she drew Meta’s arm into her own, and added, “I have + not been able speak to George.” + </p> + <p> + Meta suspected that, in the wish to spare her, Flora had abstained from + seeking him. + </p> + <p> + The evening went off like any other evening—people ate and talked, + thought Mrs. Rivers looking very ill, and Miss Rivers very pretty—Flora + forced herself into being very friendly to Sir Henry, commiserating the + disappointment to which she had led him; and she hoped that he suspected + the state of affairs, though Tom, no longer supplanted by his elder + brother, pursued Meta into the sheltered nook, where Flora had favoured + her seclusion, to apologise for having left her to the guidance of poor + Norman, whose head was with the blackamoors. It was all Harry’s fault. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Tom,” said Harry; “don’t you think Norman is better company + than you any day?” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you not walk him off instead of me?” said Tom, turning round + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Out of consideration for Meta. She will tell you that she was very much + obliged to me—” + </p> + <p> + Harry checked himself, for Meta was colouring so painfully that his own + sunburned face caught the glow. He pushed Tom’s slight figure aside with a + commanding move of his broad hand, and said, “I beg your pardon, upon my + word, though I don’t know what for.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” said Meta, rallying herself, and smiling. “You have no pardon to + beg. You will know it all to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I know it now,” said Harry, sheltering his face by leaning over the + back of a chair, and taming the hearty gaiety of his voice. “Well done, + Meta; there’s nothing like old June in all the world! You may take my word + for it, and I knew you would have the sense to find it out.” + </p> + <p> + They were well out of sight, and Meta only answered by a good tight + squeeze of his kind hand between both her own. Tom, suddenly recovering + from his displeasure at being thrust aside, whisked round, dropped on a + footstool before Meta, looked up in her face, and said, “Hallo!” in such + utter amazement that there was nothing for it but to laugh more + uncontrollably than was convenient. “Come along, Tom,” said Harry, pulling + him up by force, “she does not want any of your nonsense. We will not + plague her now.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Harry,” said Meta. “I cannot talk rationally just yet. Don’t + think me unkind, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + Tom sat in a sort of trance all the rest of the evening. + </p> + <p> + Lord Cosham talked to Norman, who felt as if he were being patronised on + false pretences, drew into his shell, and displayed none of his + “first-rate abilities.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer discussed his architecture with the archdeacon; but his black + eyes roamed heedfully after the young gentleman and lady, in the opposite + corners of the room; and, as he drove home afterwards with the youths, he + hummed scraps of Scottish songs, and indulged in silent smiles. + </p> + <p> + Those at home had been far more demonstrative. Dr. May had arrived, + declaring himself the proudest doctor in her Majesty’s dominions, and + Ethel needed nothing but his face to explain why, and tell her that dear + old June’s troubles were over, and their pretty little Meta was their own—a + joy little looked for to attend their foundation-stone. + </p> + <p> + The dreaded conference with Lord Cosham had proved highly gratifying. + There might be something in the fact that he could not help it, which + assisted in his ready acquiescence, but he was also a sensible + right-minded man, who thought that the largeness of Meta’s fortune was no + reason that it should be doubled; considered that, in the matter of + connection, the May family had the advantage, and saw in Norman; a young + man whom any one might have pleasure in bringing forward. Oxford had + established confidence both in his character and talents, and his speech + had been such as to impress an experienced man, like Lord Cosham, with an + opinion of his powers, that prepared a welcome for him, such as no one + could have dared to expect. His lordship thought his niece not only likely + to be happier, but to occupy a more distinguished position with such a man + as Norman May, than with most persons of ready-made rank and fortune. + </p> + <p> + The blushing and delighted Dr. May had thought himself bound to speak of + his son’s designs, but he allowed that the project had been formed under + great distress of mind, and when he saw it treated by so good a man, as a + mere form of disappointed love, he felt himself reprieved from the hardest + sacrifice that he had ever been called on to make, loved little Meta the + better for restoring his son, and once more gave a free course to the + aspirations that Norman’s brilliant boyhood had inspired. Richard took the + same view, and the evening passed away in an argument—as if any one + had been disputing with them—the father reasoning loud, the son + enforcing it low, that it had become Norman’s duty to stay at home to take + care of Meta, whose father would have been horrified at his taking her to + the Antipodes. They saw mighty tasks for her fortune to effect in England, + they enhanced each other’s anticipations of Norman’s career, overthrew + abuses before him, heaped distinctions upon him, and had made him Prime + Minister and settled his policy, before ten o’clock brought their schemes + to a close. + </p> + <p> + Mary gazed and believed; Margaret lay still and gently assented; Ethel was + silent at first, and only when the fabric became extremely airy and + magnificent, put in her word with a vehement dash at the present abuses, + which grieved her spirit above all, and, whether vulnerable or not, Norman + was to dispose of, like so many giants before Mr. Great-heart. + </p> + <p> + She went upstairs, unable to analyse her sentiments. To be spared the + separation would be infinite relief—all this prosperity made her + exult—the fair girl at the Grange was the delight of her heart, and + yet there was a sense of falling off; she disliked herself for being + either glad or sorry, and could have quarrelled with the lovers for + perplexing her feelings so uncomfortably. + </p> + <p> + Though she sat up till the party returned, she was inclined to be supposed + in bed, so as to put off the moment of meeting; but Margaret, who she + hoped was asleep, said from her pillow, “Ask dear Norman to let me give + him one kiss.” + </p> + <p> + She ran down headlong, clutched Norman as he was taking off his greatcoat, + told him that Margaret wanted him, and dragged him up without letting him + go, till she reached the first landing, where she stood still, saying + breathlessly, “New Zealand.” + </p> + <p> + “If I wished to fail, she would keep me to it.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Ethel, claiming heartily his caress. “I was + wrong to doubt either of you. Now, I know how to feel! But Margaret must + not wait.” + </p> + <p> + The happy youth, in the flush of love and joy, bent gently, almost + tearfully, down in silence to the white form, half seen in the twilight, + whose hopes had fleeted away from earth, and who was calmly, softly + gliding after them. Hardly a word was uttered, but of all the many + heartfelt thoughts that had passed while the face was pressed into + Margaret’s pillow, and her sympathising arms round the neck, surely none + was ever deeper, than was his prayer and vow that his affection should be + like hers, unearthly, and therefore enduring. + </p> + <p> + The embrace was all; Margaret must not be agitated, and, indeed, the + events of the day had been too much for her, and the ensuing morning + brought the fluttering of heart and prostration of strength, no longer a + novelty and occasion of immediate terror, but the token of the waning + power of life. + </p> + <p> + Till she was better, her father had no thoughts for aught else, but, as + with many another invalid, the relief from present distress was as + cheering as if it had been recovery, and ere night, her placid look of + repose had returned, and she was devising pretty greetings for her newest + Daisy. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the sobering effect of these hours of anxiety was in Norman’s + favour, on entering into conversation with his father. Those visions, + which had had their swing the night before, belonged to the earlier, more + untamed period of Dr. May’s life, and had melted away in the dim room, + made sacred by lingering mementos of his wife, and in the sound of that + panting breath and throbbing heart. His vehemence had been, after all, + chiefly against his own misgivings, and when he heard of his son’s + resolution, and Meta’s more than acquiescence, he was greatly touched, and + recurred to his kind, sorrowful promise, that he would never be a + stumbling-block in the path of his children. Still he owned himself + greatly allured by the career proposed by Lord Cosham, and thought Norman + should consider the opportunities of doing good in, perhaps, a still more + important and extensive field than that which he had chosen. + </p> + <p> + “Time was that I should have grasped at such a prospect,” said Norman; + “but I am not the man for it. I have too much ambition, and too little + humility. You know, father, how often you have had to come to my rescue, + when I was running after success as my prime object.” + </p> + <p> + “Vanity fair is a dangerous place, but you who have sound principles and + pure motives—” + </p> + <p> + “How long would my motives be pure?” said Norman. “Rivalry and + party-spirit make me distrust my motives, and then my principles feel the + shock. Other men are marked by station for such trials, and may be carried + through them, but I am not.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet some of these men are far from your equals.” + </p> + <p> + “Not perhaps in speechifying,” said Norman, smiling; “but in steadiness of + aim, in patience, in callousness, in seeing one side of the question at + once.” + </p> + <p> + “You judge rightly for your own peace; you will be the happier; I always + doubted whether you had nerve to make your wits available.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be cowardice,” said Norman, “but I think not. I could burn for the + combat; and if I had no scruples, I could enjoy bearing down such as—” + </p> + <p> + Of course Dr. May burst in with a political name, and—“I wish you + were at him!” + </p> + <p> + “Whether I could is another matter,” said Norman, laughing; “but the fact + is, that I stand pledged; and if I embraced what to me would be a worldly + career, I should be running into temptation, and could not expect to be + shielded from it.” + </p> + <p> + “Your old rule,” said Dr. May. “Seek to be less rather than more. But + there is another choice. Why not a parsonage at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Pleasant parishes are not in the same need,” said Norman. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what poor old Rivers would say to you, if he knew what you want + to do with his daughter! Brought up as she has been—to expose her to + the roughness of a colonial life, such as I should hesitate about for your + sisters.” + </p> + <p> + “It is her own ardent desire.” + </p> + <p> + “True, but are girlish enthusiasms to be trusted? Take care, Norman, take + care of her—she is a bit of the choicest porcelain of human kind, + and not to be rudely dealt with.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, but she has the brave enterprising temper, to which I fully + believe that actual work, in a good cause, is far preferable to what she + calls idleness. I do not believe that we are likely to meet with more + hardship than she would gladly encounter, and would almost—nay, + quite enjoy.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know what your aunt has had to go through.” + </p> + <p> + “A few years make a great difference in a colony. Still, it may be right + for me to go out alone and judge for her; but we shall know more if my + aunt comes home.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I could trust a good deal to her. She has much of your mother’s + sense. Well, you must settle it as you can with Meta’s people! I do not + think they love the pretty creature better than I have done from the first + minute we saw her—don’t you remember it, Norman?” + </p> + <p> + “Remember it? Do I not? From the frosted cedar downwards! It was the first + gem of spring in that dreary winter. What a Fairyland the Grange was to + me!” + </p> + <p> + “You may nearly say the same of me,” confessed Dr. May, smiling; “the + sight of that happy little sunny spirit, full of sympathy and sweetness, + always sent me brighter on my way. Wherever you may be, Norman, I am glad + you have her, being one apt to need a pocket sunbeam.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope my tendencies are in no danger of depressing her!” said Norman, + startled. “If so—” + </p> + <p> + “No such thing—she will make a different man of you. You have been + depressed by—that early shock, and the gap at our own fireside—all + that we have shared together, Norman. To see you begin on a new score, + with a bright home of your own, is the best in this world that I could + wish for you, though I shall live over my own twenty-two years in thinking + of you, and that sweet little fairy. But now go, Norman—she will be + watching for you and news of Margaret. Give her all sorts of love from + me.” + </p> + <p> + Norman fared better with the uncle than he had expected. Lord Cosham, as a + philanthropist, could not, with any consistency, set his face against + missions, even when the cost came so near home; and he knew that + opposition made the like intentions assume a heroic aspect that maintained + them in greater force. He therefore went over the subject in a calm + dispassionate manner, which exacted full and grateful consideration from + the young man. + </p> + <p> + The final compromise was, that nothing should be settled for a year, + during which Norman would complete his course of study, and the matter + might be more fully weighed. Mrs. Arnott would probably return, and bring + experience and judgment, which would, or ought to, decide the question—though + Meta had a secret fear that it might render it more complicated than ever. + However, the engagement and the mission views had both been treated so + much more favourably than could have been hoped, that they felt themselves + bound to be patient and forbearing. As Meta said, “If they showed + themselves wilful children, they certainly did not deserve to be trusted + anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Cosham made his niece listen to a kind exhortation not to press her + influence towards a decision that might be repented, when too late to be + repaired, without a degrading sense of failure—putting her in mind + of the privations that would lose romance by their pettiness, and which + money could not remedy; and very sensibly representing that the effect of + these on temper and health was to be duly considered as a serious + impediment to usefulness. + </p> + <p> + “It would be worse for him alone,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “That is not certain,” said her uncle. “A broken-down wife is a terrible + drag.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it is so,” said Meta firmly, “but risks must be run, and he is + willing to take the chance. I do not think it can be presumption, for, you + know, I am strong; and Dr. May would say if he could not warrant me. I + fancy household work would be more satisfactory and less tiring than doing + a season thoroughly, and I mean to go through a course of Finchley manuals + in preparation.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you know what you are doing,” sighed her uncle. “You see it all + couleur de rose.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not. It is because it is not couleur de rose that I am so much + bent upon it. I have had plenty of that all my life. I expect much that + will be very disagreeable and not at all heroic; but if I can only make + Norman think it fun, that will be one purpose answered. I do believe he + will do his work better for having me, and, at least, I shall pay his + passage.” + </p> + <p> + Her uncle shook his head, but did not try to say any more. George had + begun by loud exclamations against the project, in which he was vehemently + abetted by Tom, who primed him with all sorts of outrageous abuse of the + niggers and cannibals, who would make Norman’s coats out of all shape, and + devour little Meta at a mouthful—predictions which Meta accepted + most merrily, talking of herself so resignedly, as bound upon a spit, and + calling out to be roasted slower and faster, that she safely conducted off + their opposition by way of a standing joke. As to Norman’s coats, she + threatened to make them herself, and silenced Tom for ever by supposing, + in malicious simplicity, that he must be able to teach her the most + unexceptional cut. + </p> + <p> + Flora kept her opinions to herself. Only once, when urged to remonstrate, + she said, “I could not—I would not.” + </p> + <p> + She was gently and touchingly considerate towards the lovers, silently but + unobtrusively obviating all that could jar on their feelings, and + employing her exquisite tact in the kindest manner. + </p> + <p> + She released Meta from the expedition to Ryde, silencing scruples on the + one hand, by a suggestion of “poor Sir Henry,” and, on the other, by + offering to exchange her for Mary. The first proposal made Mary take such + a spring in her chair, with eyes so round, and cheeks so red, and such a + shriek about Harry and the Bucephalus, that no one could have borne to say + one word in opposition, even if it had not been the opinion of the Council + that sea air would best repair Mary’s strength. + </p> + <p> + Ethel had some private fears of a scene, since it was one of Miss Bracy’s + idiosyncrasies to be hurt whenever Mary was taken out of her hands; and + she went to announce the design, in dread lest this shock should destroy + the harmony that had prevailed for many months; nay, she almost believed, + since the loss of the Alcestis had been known. + </p> + <p> + She was agreeably surprised. Miss Bracy thought Mary in need of the + change, and discussed both her and Blanche in so pleasant and sensible a + manner, that Ethel was quite relieved. She partook in Mary’s anticipations + of pleasure, forwarded her preparations, and was delighted with her + promise of letters—promises that Mary bestowed so largely, in the + fullness of her heart, that there were fears lest her whole time should be + spent in writing. + </p> + <p> + Her soft heart indulged in a shower of tears when she wished them all + good-bye; and Ethel and Blanche found the house was very empty without + her; but that was only till Meta came in from a walk with Norman, and, + under the plea of trying to supply Mary’s place, did the work of five + Maries, and a great deal besides. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could be happier than Meta’s visit, brightening the house so that + the Mays thought they had never known half her charms, helping whatever + was going on, yet ready to play with Daisy, tell stories to Aubrey, hear + Tom’s confidences, talk to Margaret, read with Norman, and teach Richard + singing for his school children. The only vexation was, that every one + could not always engross her entirely; and Dr. May used to threaten that + they should never spare her to that long-legged fellow, Norman. + </p> + <p> + She had persuaded Bellairs to go and take care of Flora and Mary, instead + of the French maid—a plan which greatly satisfied Margaret, who had + never liked the looks of Coralie, and which Meta held to be a grand + emancipation. She persuaded old nurse to teach her to be useful, and + Margaret used to declare that she witnessed scenes as good as a play in + her room, where the little dexterous scholar, apparently in jest, but + really in sober, earnest, wiled instruction from the old woman; and made + her experiments, between smiles and blushes, and merrily glorying in + results that promised that she would be a notable housewife. Whether it + were novelty or not, she certainly had an aptitude and delight in domestic + details, such as Ethel never could attain; and, as Dr. May said, the one + performed by a little finger what the other laboured at with a great mind. + </p> + <p> + In the schoolroom, Meta was as highly appreciated. She found an hour for + helping Blanche in her music, and for giving, what was still more useful, + an interest and spirit to studies, where, it must be owned, poor good Mary + had been a dead weight. She enlivened Miss Bracy so much, and so often + contrived a walk or a talk with her, that the saucy Blanche told Hector + that she thought Ethel would be quite second-fiddle with Miss Bracy. + </p> + <p> + No such thing. Miss Bracy’s great delight was in having a listener for her + enthusiasm about Miss Ethel. She had been lately having a correspondence + with a former school-fellow, who was governess in a family less + considerate than the Mays, and who poured out, in her letters, feelings + much like those with which Miss Bracy had begun. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could be more salutary than to find herself repeating all Ethel’s + pieces of advice; and, one day, when her friend had been more distressed + than usual, she called Ethel herself, to consult on her answer, owning how + much she was reminded of herself. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” she added, “I am afraid it would only tease you to hear how much + I am indebted to your decision and kindness—” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” said Ethel, laughing her awkward laugh. “You have often had to + forget my savage ways.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray don’t say that—” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Ethel, breaking in, “the philosophy is this: I believe + that it is a trying life. I know teaching takes a great deal out of one; + and loneliness may cause tendencies to dwell on fancied slights in + trifles, that might otherwise be hurried over. But I think the thing is, + to pass them over, and make a conscience of turning one’s mind to + something fresh—” + </p> + <p> + “As you made me do, when you brought me amusing books, and taught me + botany—” + </p> + <p> + “And, still more, when you took to working for the infant school. Yes, I + think the way to be happy and useful is to get up many interests, so as to + be fresh and vigorous, and think not at all of personalities. There’s a + truism!” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, though,” said Miss Bracy. “Indeed, all your kindness and + consideration would never have done me half the good they have, dear Miss + Ethel, if you had not taught me that referring all to one’s own feelings + and self is the way to be unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” said Ethel. “It is the surest way for any one to be miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could only persuade poor dear Ellen to think that even if a slight + were real, it ought to be borne forgivingly, and not brooded over. Ah! you + are laughing; perhaps you have said the same about me.” + </p> + <p> + “You would forgive it now, I think,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I never thought I did not forgive. I did not see that brooding over + vexations was not pardoning them. I have told her so now; and, oh! if she + could but have seen how true sorrows are borne here, she would be cured, + like me, of making imaginary ones.” + </p> + <p> + “None could help being better for living with papa,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + Ethel made Miss Bracy happy by a kiss before she left her. It was a + cheering belief that, whatever the future trials of her life might be, the + gentle little lady would meet them with a healthier mind, more vigorous in + overlooking troubles and without punctilious sensitiveness on the lookout + for affronts. “Believing all things, bearing all things, hoping all + things, enduring all things,” would be to her the true secret of serenity + of spirits. + </p> + <p> + Ethel might not have been blameless or consistent in her dealings in this + difficult intercourse, but her kind heart, upright intention, and force of + character, had influence far beyond her own perception. Indeed, she knew + not that she had personal influence at all, but went on in her own + straightforward humility. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Enough of foresight sad, too much + Of retrospect have I; + And well for me, that I, sometimes, + Can put those feelings by. + + There speaks the man we knew of yore, + Well pleased, I hear them say; + Such was he, in his lighter moods, + Before our heads were gray. + + Buoyant he was in spirit, quick + Of fancy, light of heart; + And care, and time, and change have left + Untouch’d his better part.”—SOUTHEY. +</pre> + <p> + Etheldred May and Meta Rivers were together in the drawing-room. The + timepiece pointed towards ten o’clock, but the tea-things were on the + table, prepared for a meal, the lamp shone with a sort of consciousness, + and Ethel moved restlessly about, sometimes settling her tea equipage, + sometimes putting away a stray book, or resorting by turns to her book, or + to work a red and gold scroll on coarse canvas, on the other end of which + Meta was employed. + </p> + <p> + “Nervous, Ethel?” said Meta, looking up with a merry provoking smile, + knowing how much the word would displease. + </p> + <p> + “That is for you,” retorted Ethel, preferring to carry the war into the + enemy’s quarters. “What, don’t you know that prudent people say that your + fate depends on her report?” + </p> + <p> + “At least,” said Meta, laughing; “she is a living instance that every one + is not eaten up, and we shall see if she fulfils Tom’s prediction of being + tattooed, or of having a slice out of the fattest part of her cheek.” + </p> + <p> + “I know very well,” said Ethel, “the worst she said it would be, the more + you would go.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite that,” said Meta, blushing, and looking down. + </p> + <p> + “Come, don’t be deceitful!” said Ethel. “You know very well that you are + still more bent on it than you were last year.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I am!” said Meta, looking up with a sudden beamy flash of her + dark eyes. “Norman and I know each other so much better now,” she added, + rather falteringly. + </p> + <p> + “Ay! I know you are ready to go through thick and thin, and that is why I + give my consent and approbation. You are not to be stopped for nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for nonsense, certainly,” said Meta, “but”—and her voice became + tremulous—“if Dr. May deliberately said it would be wrong, and that + I should be an encumbrance and perplexity, I am making up my mind to the + chance.” + </p> + <p> + “But what would you do?” asked Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. You should not ask such questions, Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! it won’t happen, so it is no use to talk about it,” said Ethel. + “Fancy my having made you cry.” + </p> + <p> + “Very silly of me,” said Meta, brightening and laughing, but sighing. “I + am only afraid Mrs. Arnott may think me individually unfit for the kind of + life, as if I could not do what other women can. Do I look so?” + </p> + <p> + “You look as if you were meant to be put under a glass case!” said Ethel, + surveying the little elegant figure, whose great characteristic was a look + of exquisite finish, not only in the features and colouring, the turn of + the head, and the shape of the small rosy-tipped fingers, but in + everything she wore, from the braids of black silk hair, to the little + shoe on her foot, and even in the very lightness and gaiety of her + movements. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ethel!” cried Meta, springing up in dismay, and looking at herself in + the glass. “What is the matter with me? Do tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll never get rid of it,” said Ethel, “unless you get yourself + tattooed! Even separation from Bellairs hasn’t answered. And, after all, I + don’t think it would be any satisfaction to Norman or papa. I assure you, + Meta, whatever you may think of it, it is not so much bother to be + prettier than needful, as it is to be uglier than needful.” + </p> + <p> + “What is needful?” said Meta, much amused. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose to be like Mary, so that nobody should take notice of one, but + that one’s own people may have the satisfaction of saying, ‘she is + pleasing,’ or ‘she is in good looks.’ I think Gertrude will come to that. + That’s one comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “That is your own case, Ethel. I have heard those very things said of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Of my hatchet face!” said Ethel contemptuously. “Some one must have been + desperately bent on flattering the Member’s family.” + </p> + <p> + “I could repeat more,” said Meta, “if I were to go back to the + Commemoration, and to the day you went home.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel crimsoned, and made a sign with her hand, exclaiming, “Hark!” + </p> + <p> + “It went past.” + </p> + <p> + “It was the omnibus. She must be walking down!” Ethel breathed short, and + wandered aimlessly about; Meta put her arm round her waist. + </p> + <p> + “I did not think this would be so much to you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Meta, it seems like dear mamma coming to see how we have been going + on. And then papa! I wish I had gone up to the station with him.” + </p> + <p> + “He has Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but I am afraid Margaret is listening and will be restless, and have + a palpitation; and I can’t go and see, or I shall disturb her. Oh, I wish + it were over.” + </p> + <p> + Meta stroked her, and soothed her, and assured her that all would do well, + and presently they heard the click of the door. Ethel flew into the hall, + where she stopped short, her heart beating high at the sound of + overpoweringly familiar accents. + </p> + <p> + She was almost relieved by detecting otherwise little resemblance; the + height was nearly the same, but there was not the plump softness of + outline. Mrs. Arnott was small, thin, brisk and active, with a vivacious + countenance, once evidently very fair and pretty, but aged and worn by + toil, not trouble, for the furrows were the traces of smiles around her + merry mouth, and beautiful blue eyes, that had a tendency lo laugh and cry + both at once. Dr. May who had led her into the light, seemed to be looking + her all over, while Richard was taking the wraps from her, and Ethel tried + to encourage herself to go forward. + </p> + <p> + “Ay!” said the doctor, kissing her. “I see you, Flora, now. I have found + you again.” + </p> + <p> + “I found you as soon as I heard your voice, Richard,” said she. “And now + for the bairnies.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is one, but there is but a poor show forthcoming to-night. Do you + know her?” + </p> + <p> + There was an unspeakable joy in being pressed in Aunt Flora’s arms, like a + returning beam from the sunshine of seven years ago. + </p> + <p> + “This must be Ethel! My dear, how you tower above me—you that I left + in arms! And,” as she advanced into the drawing-room—“why, surely + this is not Margaret!” + </p> + <p> + “A Margaret—not the Margaret. I wish I were,” said Meta, as Mrs. + Arnott stood with an arm on her shoulder, in the midst of an embrace, Dr. + May enjoying her perplexity and Meta’s blushes. “See, Flora, these black + locks never belonged to Calton Hill daisies, yet a daisy of my own she is. + Can’t you guess?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Rivers!” exclaimed Mrs. Arnott; and though she kissed her cordially, + Meta suspected a little doubt and disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dr. May. “We change Mary for this little woman as Flora’s + lady-in-waiting, when she and her husband go out yachting and shooting.” + </p> + <p> + “Flora and her husband! There’s a marvellous sound! Where are they?” + </p> + <p> + “They are staying at Eccleswood Castle,” said Ethel; “and Mary with them. + They would have been at home to receive you, but your note yesterday took + us all by surprise. Norman is away too, at a college meeting.” + </p> + <p> + “And Margaret—my Margaret! Does not she come downstairs?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! poor dear,” said Dr. May, “she has not been in this room since that + sultry day in July.” + </p> + <p> + “The eighteenth,” said Richard; the precision of the date marking but too + well the consciousness that it was an epoch. + </p> + <p> + “We can keep her quieter upstairs,” said Dr. May; “but you must not see + her to-night. She will enjoy you very much to-morrow; but excitement at + night always does her harm, so we put her to bed, and told her to think + about no one.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Arnott looked at him as if longing, but dreading, to ask further, and + allowed her nephew and niece to seat her at the table, and attend to her + wants, before she spoke again. “Then the babies.” + </p> + <p> + “We don’t keep babies, Gertrude would tell you,” said Dr. May. “There are + three great creatures, whom Ethel barbarously ordered off to bed. Ethel is + master here, you must know, Flora—we all mind what she says.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa,” pleaded Ethel, distressed, “you know it was because I thought + numbers might be oppressive.” + </p> + <p> + “I never dispute,” said Dr. May. “We bow to a beneficial despotism, and + never rebel, do we, Meta?” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that Ethel took the imputation to heart, Meta rejoined, “You are + making Mrs. Arnott think her the strong-minded woman of the family, who + winds up the clock and cuts the bread.” + </p> + <p> + “No; that she makes you do, when the boys are away.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Ethel, “I can’t be vituperated about hunches of bread. I + have quite enough to bear on the score of tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Your tea is very good,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “See how they propitiate her,” maliciously observed the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all; it is Richard standing up for his pupil,” said Ethel. “It is + all very well now, with people who know the capacities of mortal tea; but + the boys expect it to last from seven o’clock to ten, through an unlimited + number of cups, till I have announced that a teapot must be carved on my + tombstone, with an epitaph, ‘Died of unreasonable requirements.’” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Arnott looked from one to the other, amused, observant, and + perceiving that they were all under that form of shyness which brings up + family wit to hide embarrassment or emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Is Harry one of these unreasonable boys?” she asked. “My dear Harry—I + presume Ethel has not sent him to bed. Is there any hope of my seeing + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Great hope,” said Dr. May. “He has been in the Baltic fleet, a pretty + little summer trip, from which we expect him to return any day. My old + Lion! I am glad you had him for a little while, Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Dear fellow! his only fault was being homesick, and making me catch the + infection.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you did not put off your coming,” said Dr. May gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You are in time for the consecration,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Cocksmoor! When will it take place?” + </p> + <p> + “On St. Andrew’s Day. It is St. Andrew’s Church, and the bishop fixed the + day, otherwise it is a disappointment that Hector cannot be present.” + </p> + <p> + “Hector?” + </p> + <p> + “Hector Ernescliffe—poor Alan’s brother, whom we don’t well know + from ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are curate, Ritchie?” said his aunt—“if I may still call + you so. You are not a bit altered from the mouse you used to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Church mouse to Cocksmoor,” said Dr. May, “nearly as poor. We are to + invest his patrimony in a parsonage as soon as our architect in ordinary + can find time for it. Spencer—you remember him?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember how you and he used to be inseparable! And he has settled + down, at last, by your side?” + </p> + <p> + “The two old doctors hope to bolster each other up till Mr. Tom comes down + with modern science in full force. That boy will do great things—he + has as clear a head as I ever knew.” + </p> + <p> + “And more—” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, as sound a heart. I must find you his tutor’s letter, Flora. They + have had a row in his tutor’s house at Eton, and our boys made a gallant + stand for the right, Tom especially, guarding the little fellows in a way + that does one good to hear of.” + </p> + <p> + “‘I must express my strong sense of gratitude for his truth, uprightness, + and moral courage,’” quoted Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha! you have learned it by heart! I know you copied it out for + Norman, who has the best right to rejoice.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a set of children to be proud of, Richard!” exclaimed Mrs. + Arnott. + </p> + <p> + “To be surprised at—to be thankful for,” said Dr. May, almost + inarticulately. + </p> + <p> + To see her father so happy with Mrs. Arnott necessarily drew Ethel’s heart + towards her; and, when they had bidden him goodnight, the aunt instantly + assumed a caressing confidence towards Ethel, particularly comfortable to + one consciously backward and awkward, and making her feel as intimate as + if the whole space of her rational life had not elapsed since their last + meeting. + </p> + <p> + “Must you go, my dear?” said her aunt, detaining her over her fire. “I + can’t tell how to spare you. I want to hear of your dear father. He looks + aged and thin, Ethel, and yet that sweet expression is the same as ever. + Is he very anxious about poor Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly anxious,” said Ethel mournfully—“there is not much room + for that.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ethel—you don’t mean?—I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose we ought to have written more fully,” said Ethel; “but it has + been very gradual, and we never say it to ourselves. She is as bright, and + happy, and comfortable as ever, in general, and, perhaps, may be so for a + long time yet, but each attack weakens her.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of attack?” + </p> + <p> + “Faintness-sinking. It is suspended action of the heart. The injury to the + spine deranged the system, and then the long suspense, and the shock—It + is not one thing more than another, but it must go on. Dr. Spencer will + tell you. You won’t ask papa too much about it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed. And he bears it—” + </p> + <p> + “He bears everything. Strength comes up out of his great lovingness. But, + oh! I sometimes long that he may never have any more sorrows.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor child!” said Mrs. Arnott, putting her arm round her niece’s + waist. + </p> + <p> + Ethel rested her head on her shoulder. “Aunt Flora! Aunt Flora! If any + words could tell what Margaret has been ever since we were left. Oh, don’t + make me talk or think of ourselves without her. It is wrong to wish. And + when you see her, that dear face of hers will make you happy in the + present. Then,” added Ethel, not able to leave off with such a subject, + “you have our Norman to see.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Norman’s project is too delightful to us; but I fear what it may be + to your father.” + </p> + <p> + “He gives dear Norman, as his most precious gift, the flower and pride of + us all.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Ethel, I am quite frightened at Miss Rivers’s looks. Is it possible + that—” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Flora,” broke in Ethel, “don’t say a word against it. The choicest + goods wear the best; and whatever woman can do, Meta Rivers can. Norman is + a great tall fellow, as clever as possible, but perfectly feckless. If you + had him there alone, he would be a bee without a queen.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” continued Ethel. “Meta is a concentration of spirit and energy, + delights in practical matters, is twice the housewife I am, and does all + like an accomplishment. Between them, they will make a noble missionary—” + </p> + <p> + “But she looks—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush,” continued the niece. “You will think me domineering; but please + don’t give any judgment without seeing; for they look to you as an + arbitrator, and casual words will weigh.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Ethel; perhaps you are right. When does he think of coming + out?” + </p> + <p> + “When he is ordained—some time next year.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she live with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose she lives with Flora; but we always manage to get her when + Norman is at home.” + </p> + <p> + “You have told me nothing of Flora or Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “I have little real to tell. Good old Mary! I dare say Harry talked to you + plentifully of her. She is a—a nice old darling,” said Ethel fondly. + “We want her again very much, and did not quite bargain for the succession + of smart visits that she has been paying.” + </p> + <p> + “With Flora?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Unluckily George Rivers has taken an aversion to the Grange, and I + have not seen Flora this whole year.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel stopped short, and said that she must not keep Margaret expecting + her. Perhaps her aunt guessed that she had touched the true chord of + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + The morning brought a cheering account of Margaret; and Mrs. Arnott was to + see her directly after breakfast. In the meantime, the firm limbs, blue + eyes, and rosy face of Gertrude seemed a fair representation of the little + bride’s-maid, whom she remembered. + </p> + <p> + A very different niece did she find upstairs, though the smiling, + overflowing eyes, and the fond, eager look of recognition, as if asking to + be taken to her bosom, had in them all the familiarity of old tenderness. + “Auntie! dear auntie! that you should have come back to me again!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Arnott fondly caressed her, but could not speak at first, for even + her conversation with Ethel had not prepared her for so wasted and broken + an appearance. Dr. May spoke briskly of Margaret’s having behaved very + well and slept like a good child, told Margaret where he had to go that + morning, and pointed out to Mrs. Arnott some relics of herself still + remaining; but the nervous tremulousness of manner did not much comfort + her, although Margaret answered cheerfully. Nothing was so effectual in + composing the aunt as Aubrey’s coming headlong in to announce the gig, and + to explain to Margaret his last design for a cathedral—drawing plans + being just now his favourite sport. + </p> + <p> + “Architecture is all our rage at present,” said Margaret, as her father + hurried away. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad to have come in time for the consecration!” said Mrs. + Arnott, following her niece’s lead. “Is that a model of the church?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” cried Margaret, lighting up. “Richard made it for me.” + </p> + <p> + “May I show it to Aunt Flora?” said Aubrey. + </p> + <p> + “Bring it here, if you can lift it,” said Margaret; and, Aunt Flora + helping, the great cumbersome thing was placed beside her, whilst she + smiled and welcomed it like a child, and began an eager exhibition. Was it + not a beautiful little pierced spire?—that was an extravagance of + Dr. Spencer’s own. Papa said he could not ask Captain Gordon to sanction + it—the model did it no justice, but it was so very beautiful in the + rich creamy stone rising up on the moor, and the blue sky looking through, + and it caught the sunset lights so beautifully. So animated was her + description, that Mrs. Arnott could not help asking, “Why, my dear, when + have you seen it?” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” said Margaret, with her sweet smile. “I have never seen + Cocksmoor; but Dr. Spencer and Meta are always sketching it for me, and + Ethel would not let an effect pass without telling me. I shall hear how it + strikes you next.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope to see it by and by. What a comfortable deep porch! If we could + build such churches in the colonies, Margaret!” + </p> + <p> + “See what little Meta will do for you! Yes, we had the porch deep for a + shelter—that is copied from the west door of the minster, and is it + not a fine high-pitched roof? John Taylor, who is to be clerk, could not + understand its being open; he said, when he saw the timbers, that a man + and his family might live up among them. They are noble oak beams; we + would not have any sham—here, Aubrey, take off the roof, and auntie + will see the shape.” + </p> + <p> + “Like the ribs of a ship,” explained Aubrey, unconscious that the meaning + was deeper than his sister could express, and he continued: “Such fine oak + beams! I rode with Dr. Spencer one day last year to choose them. It is a + two-aisled church, you see, that a third may be added.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel came up as Aubrey began to absorb the conversation. “Lessons, + Aubrey,” she said. “So, Margaret, you are over your dear model?” + </p> + <p> + “Not forestalling you too much I hope, Ethel dear,” said Margaret; “as you + will show her the church itself.” + </p> + <p> + “You have the best right,” said Ethel; “but come, Aubrey, we must not + dawdle.” + </p> + <p> + “I will show you the stones I laid myself, Aunt Flora,” said Aubrey, + running off without much reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel has him in excellent order,” said Mrs. Arnott. + </p> + <p> + “That she has; she brings him on beautifully, and makes him enjoy it. She + teaches him arithmetic in some wonderful scientific way that nobody can + understand but Norman, and he not the details; but he says it is all + coming right, and will make him a capital mathematical scholar, though he + cannot add up pounds, shillings, and pence.” + </p> + <p> + “I expected to be struck with Ethel,” said Mrs. Arnott; “and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Margaret, waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she does exceed my expectations. There is something curiously + winning in that quaint, quick, decisive manner of hers. There is so much + soul in the least thing she does, as if she could not be indifferent for a + moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly—exactly so,” said Margaret, delighted. “It is really doing + everything with all her might. Little, simple, everyday matters did not + come naturally to her as to other people, and the having had to make them + duties has taught her to do them with that earnest manner, as if there + were a right and a wrong to her in each little mechanical household + office.” + </p> + <p> + “Harry described her to me thus,” said Mrs. Arnott, smiling: “‘As to + Ethel, she is an odd fish; but Cocksmoor will make a woman of her after + all.’” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true!” cried Margaret. “I should not have thought Harry had so much + discernment in those days. Cocksmoor gave the stimulus, and made Ethel + what she is. Look there—over the mantelpiece, are the designs for + the painted glass, all gifts, except the east window. That one of St. + Andrew introducing the lad with the loaves and fishes is Ethel’s window. + It is the produce of the hoard she began this time seven years, when she + had but one sovereign in the world. She kept steadily on with it, spending + nothing on herself that she could avoid, always intending it for the + church, and it was just enough to pay for this window.” + </p> + <p> + “Most suitable,” said Mrs. Arnott. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Mr. Wilmot and I persuaded her into it; but I do not think she would + have allowed it, if she had seen the application we made of it—the + gift of her girlhood blessed and extended. Dear King Etheldred, it is the + only time I ever cheated her.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a beautiful east window. And this little one—St. Margaret I + see.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! papa would not be denied choosing that for his subject. We reproached + him with legendary saints, and overwhelmed him with antiquarianism, to + show that the Margaret of the dragon was not the Margaret of the daisy; + but he would have it; and said we might thank him for not setting his + heart on St. Etheldreda.” + </p> + <p> + “This one?” + </p> + <p> + “That is mine,” said Margaret, very low; and her aunt abstained from + remark, though unable to look, without tears, at the ship of the Apostles, + the calming of the storm, and the scroll, with the verse: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He bringeth them unto the haven where they would be. +</pre> + <p> + Beneath were the initials, “A. H. E.,” and the date of the year, the only + memorials of the founder. + </p> + <p> + Margaret next drew attention to St. Andrew with his cross—Meta’s + gift. “And, besides,” she said, “George Rivers made us a beautiful + present, which Meta hunted up. Old Mr. Rivers, knowing no better, once + bought all the beautiful carved fittings of a chapel in France, meaning to + fit up a library with them; but, happily, he never did, and a happy notion + came into Meta’s head, so she found them out, and Dr. Spencer has adapted + them, and set them all to rights; and they are most exquisite. You never + saw such foliage.” + </p> + <p> + Thus Margaret proceeded with the description of everything in the church, + and all the little adventures of the building, as if she could not turn + away from the subject; and her aunt listened and wondered, and, when + called away, that Margaret might rest before nurse came to dress her, she + expressed her wonder to Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the answer; “it is her chief occupation and interest. I do not + mean that she has not always her own dear full sympathy for every one’s + concerns, but Cocksmoor is her concern, almost more than even Ethel’s. I + think she could chronicle every stage in the building better than Dr. + Spencer himself, and it is her daily delight to hear his histories of his + progress. And not only with the church but the people; she knows all about + every family; Richard and Ethel tell her all their news; she talks over + the school with the mistress every Sunday, and you cannot think what a + feeling there is for her at Cocksmoor. A kind message from Miss May has an + effect that the active workers cannot always produce.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Arnott saw that Meta was right, when, in the afternoon, she walked + with her nieces to see Cocksmoor. It was not a desolate sight as in old + times, for the fair edifice, rising on the slope, gave an air of + protection to the cottages, which seemed now to have a centre of unity, + instead of lying forlorn and scattered. Nor were they as wretched in + themselves, for the impulse of civilisation had caused windows to be + mended and railings to be tidied, and Richard promoted, to the utmost, + cottage gardening, so that, though there was an air of poverty, there was + no longer an appearance of reckless destitution and hopeless neglect. + </p> + <p> + In the cottages, Mrs. Taylor had not entirely ceased to speak with a + piteous voice, even though she told of the well-doing of her girls at + service; but Granny Hall’s merry content had in it something now of + principle, and Sam had married a young Fordholm wife, who promised to be a + pattern for Cocksmoor. Every one asked after Miss May, with a tenderness + and affection that Mrs. Arnott well appreciated; and when they went into + the large fresh school, where Richard was hearing a class, Cherry Elwood + looked quite cheered and enlivened by hearing that she had been able to + enjoy seeing her aunt. Mrs. Arnott was set to enlighten the children about + the little brown girls whom she was wont to teach, and came away with a + more brilliant impression of their intelligence than she might have had, + if she had not come to them fresh from the Antipodes. + </p> + <p> + She had to tell Margaret all her impressions on her return, and very + pretty smiles repaid her commendations. She understood better the constant + dwelling on the subject, as she perceived how little capable Margaret was + of any employment. The book, the writing materials, and work-basket were + indeed placed by her side, but very seldom did the feeble fingers engage + in any of the occupations once so familiar—now and then a pencilled + note would be sent to Flora, or to Hector Ernescliffe, or a few stitches + be set in her work, or a page or two turned of a book, but she was far + more often perfectly still, living, assuredly in no ordinary sphere of + human life, but never otherwise than cheerful, and open to the various + tidings and interests which, as Ethel had formerly said, shifted before + her like scenes in a magic lantern, and, perhaps, with less of substance + than in those earlier days, when her work among them was not yet done, and + she was not, as it were, set aside from them. They were now little more + than shadows reflected from the world whence she was passing. + </p> + <p> + Yet her home was not sad. When Dr. Spencer came in the evening, and old + Edinburgh stories were discussed, Dr. May talked with spirit, and laughed + with the merry note that Mrs. Amott so well remembered, and Meta Rivers + chimed in with her gay, saucy repartees, nor, though Richard was always + silent, and Ethel’s brow seemed to bear a weight of thought, did it seem + as if their spirits were depressed; while there was certainly no restraint + on the glee of Blanche, Aubrey, and Gertrude, who were running into + Margaret’s room, and making as much noise there as they chose. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Arnott was at home with the whole family from the first, and in every + one’s confidence; but what she enjoyed above all was, the sitting in + Margaret’s room in the morning, when there was no danger of interruption, + the three children being all safe captives to their lessons, and Meta, in + Richard’s workshop, illuminating texts on zinc scrolls for the church. + </p> + <p> + Margaret came out more in these interviews. It had been a kind of shyness + that made her talk so exclusively of the church at the first meeting; she + had now felt her way, and knew again—and realised—the same + kind aunt with whom she had parted in her childhood, and now far dearer, + since she herself was better able to appreciate her, and with a certain + resemblance to her mother, that was unspeakably precious and soothing to + one deprived, as Margaret had been, at the commencement of her illness and + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + She could hardly see her aunt come near her, without thanking her for + having come home, and saying how every time she awoke it was with the + sense that something was comfortable, then remembering it was Aunt Flora’s + being in the house. She seemed to have a feeling, as if telling everything + to her aunt were like rendering up her account to her mother, and, at + different times, she related the whole, looking back on the various + decisions she had had to make or to influence, and reviewing her own + judgments, though often with self-blame, not with acuteness of distress, + but rather with a humble trust in the Infinite Mercy that would atone for + all shortcomings and infirmities, truly sorrowed for. + </p> + <p> + On the whole it was a peaceful and grateful retrospect; the brothers all + doing so well in their several ways, and such a comfort to their father. + Tom, concerning whom she had made the greatest mistake, might be looked + upon as rescued by Norman. Aubrey, Margaret said, smiling, was Ethel’s + child, and had long been off her mind; Hector, to her quite a brother, + would miss her almost more than her own brothers, but good honest fellow, + he had a home here; and, whispered Margaret, smiling and glowing a little, + “don’t tell any one, for it is a secret of secrets. Hector told me one + evening that, if he could be very steady, he hoped he might yet have + Blanche at Maplewood. Poor little White Mayflower, it won’t be for want of + liking on her part, and she so blushes and watches when Hector comes near, + that I sometimes think that he might have said something like it to her.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Arnott gave no opinion on the plan for Norman and Meta; but Margaret, + however, took all for granted, and expressed warm hopes for their sakes, + that they would go out with Mrs. Arnott; then, when the suggestion seemed + to astonish her aunt, who thought they were waiting for his ordination, + she said, “The fact is, that he would like to be ordained where he is to + work; but I believe they do not like to say anything about the wedding + because of me. Now, of all persons, I must chiefly rejoice in what may + help to teach in those islands. I cannot bear to be a hindrance. Whatever + happens, Aunt Flora, will you take care that they know this?” + </p> + <p> + As to her father, Margaret was at rest. He had much more calmness than + when he was more new to grief, and could bear far more patiently and + hopefully than at first. He lived more on his affections above, and much + as he loved those below, he did not rest in them as once, and could better + afford to have been removed. “Besides,” said Margaret serenely, “it has + been good for him to have been gradually weaned from depending on me, so + that it is Ethel who is really necessary to him.” + </p> + <p> + For herself, Margaret was perfectly content and happy. She knew the + temptation of her character had been to be the ruler and manager of + everything, and she saw it had been well for her to have been thus + assigned the part of Mary rather than of Martha. She remembered with + thankful joy the engagement with Alan Ernescliffe, and though she still + wore tokens of mourning for him, it was with a kind of pleasure in them. + There had been so little promise of happiness from the first, that there + was far more peace in thinking of him as sinking into rest in Harry’s + arms, than as returning to grieve over her decline; and that last gift of + his, the church, had afforded her continual delight, and above all other + earthly pursuits, smoothed away the languor and weariness of disease, as + she slowly sank to join him. Now that her aunt had come to bring back a + sunbeam of her childhood, Margaret declared that she had no more grief or + care, except one, and that a very deep and sad one—namely poor + Flora. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Arnott had at first been inclined to fear that her goddaughter was + neglecting her own family, since she had not been at home this whole year, + but the slightest betrayal of this suspicion roused Margaret to an eager + defence. She had not a doubt that Flora would gladly have been with her, + but she believed that she was not acting by her own choice, or more truly, + that her husband was so devoted to her, that she felt the more bound to + follow his slightest wishes, however contrary to her own. The season had + been spent in the same whirl that had, last year, been almost beyond human + power, even when stimulated by enjoyment and success; and now, when her + spirits were lowered, and her health weakened, Meta had watched and + trembled for her, though never able to obtain an avowal that it was an + overstrain, and while treated most affectionately, never admitted within + her barrier of reserve. + </p> + <p> + “If I could see poor Flora comforted, or if even she would only let me + enter into her troubles,” Margaret said, sighing, “I should be content.” + </p> + <p> + The consecration day came near, and the travellers began to return. Meta + was in a state of restlessness, which in her was very pretty, under the + disguise of a great desire to be useful. She fluttered about the house, + visited Margaret, played with Gertrude, set the drawing-room ornaments to + rights—a task which Ethel was very glad to depute to her, and made a + great many expeditions into the garden to put together autumn nosegays for + the vases—finally discovering that Ethel’s potichomanie vases on the + staircase window must have some red and brown leaves. + </p> + <p> + She did not come back quite so soon with them, and Mrs. Arnott, slyly + looking out of window, reported, “Ha! he is come then! At least, I see the + little thing has found—” + </p> + <p> + “Something extremely unlike itself,” said Dr. May, laughing. “Something I + could easily set down as a student at Edinburgh; thirty years ago. That’s + the very smile! I remember dear Maggie being more angry than I ever saw + her before, because Mr. Fleet said that you smiled to show your white + teeth.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the best shadow of Maggie I ever saw,” said Dr. May. “She has + taught the lad to smile. That is what I call a pretty sight!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Richard, it is a shame for old folks like us to stand spying them!” + </p> + <p> + “They care very little for me,” said Dr. May, “but I shall have them in. + Cold winds blowing about that little head! Ah! here they are. Fine leaves + you gather, miss! Very red and brown.” + </p> + <p> + Meta rather liked, than otherwise, those pretty teasings of Dr. May, but + they always made Norman colour extremely, and he parried them by + announcing news. “No, not the Bucephalus, a marriage in high life, a + relation.” + </p> + <p> + “Not poor Mary!” cried Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Mary! what could make you think of her?” + </p> + <p> + “As a hen thinks of her ducklings when they go into waters beyond her + ken,” said Ethel. “Well, as long as it is not Mary, I don’t care!” + </p> + <p> + “High life!” repeated Meta. “Oh, it can be only Agatha Langdale.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s only Lord Cosham further to guess,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! why not young Ogilvie?” said Dr. May. “I am right, I see. Well, who + is the lady?” + </p> + <p> + “A Miss Dunbar—a nice girl that I met at Glenbracken. Her property + fits in with theirs, and I believe his father has been wishing it for a + long time.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not sound too romantic,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “He writes as if he had the sense of having been extremely dutiful,” said + Norman. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt thinking it needful in addressing a namesake, who has had an eye + to the main chance,” said the doctor. “Don’t throw stones, young people.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” exclaimed Meta; “he did not look as if he would go and do such a + stupid thing as that!” + </p> + <p> + “Probably, it is anything but a stupid thing,” said Dr. May. + </p> + <p> + “You are using him very ill among you,” said Norman eagerly. “I believe + her to be excellent in every way; he has known her from childhood; he + writes as if he were perfectly contented, and saw every chance of + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “None the less for having followed his father’s wishes—I am glad he + did,” said Ethel, coming to her brother’s side. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you are right,” was Meta’s answer; “but I am disappointed in + him. He always promised to come and stay with you, and made such friends + at Oxford, and he never came.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy there was a good deal to hinder him,” said Norman; and, as Mrs. + Arnott proceeded to inquiries after the Ogilvies in general, the master of + Glenbracken was allowed to drop. + </p> + <p> + Meta, however, renewed the subject when walking to the minster that + evening with Norman. + </p> + <p> + “You may defend Mr. Ogilvie, Norman, but it is not what I should have + expected from him. Why did he make promises, and then neglect his + relations?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that conscientiously he did not dare to come,” said Norman. “I + know that he was greatly struck with Ethel at the time of the + Commemoration, and therefore I could never again press him to come here.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Norman, you hard-hearted monster! What a bad conductor!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to be a conductor,” said Norman. “If you had seen + Glenbracken and the old people, you would perceive that it would not have + been suitable on our part to promote anything of the kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Would they have been so violent?” + </p> + <p> + “Not violent, but it would have been a severe struggle. They are good, + kind people, but with strong prejudices; and, though I have no doubt they + would have yielded to steady attachment on their son’s part, and such + conduct as Ethel’s would have been, I could not lead in that direction.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that pride, Norman?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not.” + </p> + <p> + “It is doing by others as you were doing by yourself,” half whispered + Meta; “but, after all, if he had no constancy, Ethel had an escape.” + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid that she had been rather touched, but I am glad to find + myself mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “If you thought so, how could you make such a public announcement?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “I had made myself so nervous as to the effect, that, in + desperation, I took her own way, and came out at once with it as + unconsciously as I could.” + </p> + <p> + “Very naturally you acted unconsciousness! It was better than insulting + her by seeming to condole. Not that I do, though, for she deserves more + steadiness than he has shown! If a man could appreciate her at all, I + should have thought that it would have been once and for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember, he had barely known her a fortnight, and probably had no reason + to believe that he had made any impression on her. He knew how such an + attachment would grieve his parents, and, surely, he was acting dutifully, + and with self-denial and consideration, in not putting himself in the way + of being further attracted.” + </p> + <p> + “Umph! You make a good defence, Norman, but I cannot forgive him for + marrying somebody else, who cannot be Ethel’s equal.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a good little girl; he will form her, and be very happy; perhaps + more so than with a great soul and strong nature like Ethel’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Only he is a canny Scot, and not a Dr. Spencer!” + </p> + <p> + “Too short acquaintance! besides, there were the parents. Moreover, what + would become of home without Ethel?” + </p> + <p> + “The unanswerable argument to make one contented,” said Meta. “And, + certainly, to be wife to a Member of Parliament is not so very delightful + that one would covet it for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Any more than she does for herself.” + </p> + <p> + Norman was right in his view of his friend’s motives, as well as of + Ethel’s present feelings. If there had ever been any disappointment about + Norman Ogilvie, it had long since faded away. She had never given away the + depths of her heart, though the upper surface had been stirred. All had + long subsided, and she could think freely of him as an agreeable cousin, + in whose brilliant public career she should always be interested, without + either a wish to partake it, or a sense of injury or neglect. She had her + vocation, in her father, Margaret, the children, home, and Cocksmoor; her + mind and affections were occupied, and she never thought of wishing + herself elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + The new church and the expected return of her sisters engrossed many more + of her thoughts than did anything relating to Glenbracken. + </p> + <p> + She could not bear to talk of Flora, though almost as uneasy as was + Margaret; and not able to lay aside misgivings, lest even her good simple + Mary might have had her head turned by gaiety. + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Mrs. Rivers arrived on the Saturday before the Tuesday fixed for + the consecration, and stopped on their way, that they might see Margaret, + deposit Mary, and resume Meta. + </p> + <p> + It was a short visit, and all that Ethel could discover was, that Flora + was looking very ill, no longer able to conceal the worn and fagged + expression of her countenance, and evidently dreadfully shocked by the + sight of the havoc made by disease on Margaret’s frame. Yet she talked + with composure of indifferent subjects—the yacht, the visits, the + Bucephalus, the church, and the arrangements for St. Andrew’s Day. She + owned herself overworked, and in need of rest, and, as she was not well + enough to venture on being present at the consecration, she undertook to + spend the day with Margaret, thus setting the others at liberty. This + settled, she took her leave, for the journey had fatigued her greatly. + </p> + <p> + During the short visit, Mary had moved and spoken so quietly, and looked + so well-dressed and young-lady-like, that, in spite of her comfortable + plump cheeks, Ethel felt quite afraid! + </p> + <p> + But the instant the carriage had driven off, there was a skipping, a + hugging, a screaming, “Oh, it is so nice to be at home again!”—and + Ethel knew she had her own Mary. It was only a much better looking and + more mannerly Mary, in the full bloom of seventeen, open and honest-faced, + her profuse light hair prettily disposed, her hands and arms more + civilised, and her powers of conversation and self-possession developed. + Mary-like were her caresses of Gertrude, Mary-like her inquiries for + Cocksmoor, Mary-like her insisting on bringing her boxes into Margaret’s + room, her exulting exhibition of all the pretty things that Flora and + George had given to her, and the still more joyous bestowal of presents + upon everybody. + </p> + <p> + Her tastes were not a whit altered, nor her simplicity diminished. If she + was pleased by joining a large dinner-party, her satisfaction was in the + amusement of seeing well-dressed people, and a grand table; her knowledge + of the world only reached to pronouncing everything unlike home, “so + funny;” she had relished most freshly and innocently every pleasure that + she could understand, she had learned every variety of fancy work to teach + Blanche and Miss Bracy, had been the delight of every schoolroom and + nursery, had struck up numberless eternal friendships, and correspondences + with girls younger and shyer than herself, and her chief vexations seemed + to have been first, that Flora insisted on her being called Miss May, + secondly, that all her delights could not be shared by every one at home, + and thirdly, that poor Flora could not bear to look at little children. + </p> + <p> + Grievous complaints were preferred by the dwellers in the attics the next + morning, that Mary and Blanche had talked to an unmentionable hour of the + night; but, on the whole, Blanche was rather doubtful whether Mary had + made the most of her opportunities of observation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Behold, with pearls they glittering stand, + Thy peaceful gates to all expand, + By grace and strength divinely shed, + Each mortal thither may be led; + Who, kindled by Christ’s love, will dare + All earthly sufferings now to bear. + + By many a salutary stroke, + By many a weary blow, that broke, + Or polished, with a workman’s skill, + The stones that form that glorious pile; + They all are fitly framed to lie + In their appointed place on high. + Ancient Hymn for the Dedication of a Church. +</pre> + <p> + The thirtieth of November dawned with the grave brightness of an autumn + day, as the sun slowly mounted from the golden east, drinking up the mists + that rose tardily, leaving the grass thickly bedewed. + </p> + <p> + The bells of Stoneborough Minster were ringing gladsome peals, and the + sunshine had newly touched the lime trees, whose last bright yellow leaves + were gently floating down, as the carriage, from the Grange, drew up at + Dr. May’s door. + </p> + <p> + Norman opened it, to claim Meta at once for the walk; Mrs. Arnott and Mary + had gone on to assist Richard in his final arrangements, but even before + Cocksmoor, with Ethel, was now the care of Margaret; and she had waited + with her father to keep all bustle from her room, and to commit her into + the charge of Flora and of nurse. Ethel seemed quite unwilling to go. + There was that strange oppressed feeling on her as if the attainment of + her wishes were joy too great to be real—as if she would fain hold + off from it at the climax, and linger with the sister who had shared all + with her, and to whom that church was even more than to herself. She came + back, and back again, with fresh injunctions, sometimes forgetting the + very purpose of her return, as if it had been only an excuse for looking + at Margaret’s countenance, and drinking in her sympathy from her face; but + she was to go in George’s carriage, and he was not a man to allow of + loitering. He became so impatient of Ethel’s delays, that she perceived + that he could bear them no longer, gave her final kiss, and whispered, “In + spirit with us!” then ran down and was seized on by George, who had + already packed in the children and Miss Bracy, and was whirled away. + </p> + <p> + “Flora dear,” said Margaret, “do you dislike having the window opened?” + </p> + <p> + Flora threw it up, protesting, in reply to her sister’s scruples, that she + liked the air. “You always spoiled me,” said Margaret fondly. “Come and + lie down by me. It is very nice to have you here,” she added, as Flora + complied; and she took her hand and fondled it, “It is like the old times + to have you here taking care of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very unlike them in some ways,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “It has been a great renewal of still older times,” said Margaret, “to + have Aunt Flora here. I hope you will get to know her, Flora, it is so + like having mamma here,” and she looked in her sister’s face as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + Flora did not reply, but she lay quite still, as if there were a charm in + the perfect rest of being alone with Margaret, making no effort, and being + able to be silent. Time passed on, how long they knew not, but, suddenly, + a thrill shot through Margaret’s frame; she raised her hand and lifted her + head, with an eager “Hark!” + </p> + <p> + Flora could hear nothing. + </p> + <p> + “The bells—his bells!” said Margaret, all one radiant look of + listening, as Flora opened the window further, and the breeze wafted in + the chime, softened by distance. The carnation tinted those thin white + cheeks, eyes and smile beamed with joy, and uplifted finger and parted + lips seemed marking every note of the cadence. + </p> + <p> + It ceased. “Alan! Alan!” said she. “It is enough! I am ready!” + </p> + <p> + The somewhat alarmed look on Flora’s face recalled her, and, smiling, she + held out her hands for the consecration books, saying, “Let us follow the + service. It will be best for us both.” + </p> + <p> + Slowly, softly, and rather monotonously, Flora read on, till she had come + more than half through the first lesson. Her voice grew husky, and she + sometimes paused as if she could not easily proceed. Margaret begged her + to stop, but she would not cease, and went on reading, though almost + whispering, till she came to, “If they return to Thee with all their heart + and with all their soul in the land of their captivity, whither they have + carried them captives, and pray toward their land, which Thou gavest unto + their fathers, and toward the City which Thou hast chosen, and toward the + House which I have built for Thy Name; then hearing from the Heavens, even + from Thy dwelling-place—” + </p> + <p> + Flora could go no further; she strove, but one of her tearless sobs cut + her short. She turned her face aside, and, as Margaret began to say + something tender, she exclaimed, with low, hasty utterance, “Margaret! + Margaret! pray for me, for it is a hard captivity, and my heart is very, + very sore. Oh! pray for me, that it may all be forgiven me—and that + I may see my child again!” + </p> + <p> + “My Flora; my own poor, dear Flora! do I not pray? Oh! look up, look up. + Think how He loves you. If I love you so much, how much more does not He? + Come near me, Flora. Be patient, and I know peace will come!” + </p> + <p> + The words had burst from Flora uncontrollably. She was aware, the next + instant, that she had given way to harmful agitation, and, resuming her + quiescence, partly by her own will, partly from the soothing effect of + Margaret’s words and tone, she allowed herself to be drawn close to her + sister, and hid her face in the pillow, while Margaret’s hands were folded + over her, and words of blessing and prayer were whispered with a fervency + that made them broken. + </p> + <p> + Ethel, meanwhile, stood between Aubrey and Gertrude, hardly able to + believe it was not a dream, as she beheld the procession enter the aisle, + and heard the psalm that called on those doors to lift up their heads for + Him who should enter. There was an almost bewildered feeling—could + it indeed be true, as she followed the earlier part of the service, which + set apart that building as a temple for ever, separate from all common + uses. She had imagined the scene so often that she could almost have + supposed the present, one of her many imaginations; but, by and by, the + strangeness passed off, and she was able to enter into, not merely to + follow, the prayers, and to feel the deep thanksgiving that such had been + the crown of her feeble efforts. Margaret was in her mind the whole time, + woven, as it were, into every supplication and every note of praise; and + when there came the intercession for those in sickness and suffering, + flowing into the commemoration of those departed in faith and fear, + Ethel’s spirit sank for a moment at the conviction that soon Margaret, + like him, whom all must bear in mind on that day, might be included in + that thanksgiving; yet, as the service proceeded, leaving more and more of + earth behind, and the voices joined with angel and archangel, Ethel could + lose the present grief, and only retain the certainty that, come what + might, there was joy and union amid those who sung that hymn of praise. + Never had Ethel been so happy—not in the sense of the finished work—no, + she had lost all that, but in being more carried out of herself than ever + she had been before, the free spirit of praise so bearing up her heart + that the cry of glory came from her with such an exultant gladness, as + might surely be reckoned as one of those foretastes of our everlasting + life, not often vouchsafed even to the faithful, and usually sent to + prepare strength for what may be in store. + </p> + <p> + The blessing brought the sense of peace, which hung on her even while the + sounds of movement began, and the congregation were emerging. As she came + out, greetings, sentences of admiration of the church, and of inquiry for + her absent sisters, were crowded upon her, as people moved towards the + school, where a luncheon was provided for them, to pass away the interval + until evening service. The half-dozen oldest Cocksmoorites were, meantime, + to have a dinner in the former schoolroom, at the Elwoods’ house, and + Ethel was anxious so see that all was right there; so, while the rest of + her party were doing civil things, she gave her arm to Cherry, whose + limping walk showed her to be very tired. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Ethel!” said Cherry, “if Miss May could only have been here!” + </p> + <p> + “Her heart is,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma’am, I believe it is. You would not think, ma’am, how all the + children take heed to anything about her. If I only begin to say ‘Miss May + told me—’ they are all like mice.” + </p> + <p> + “She has done more for the real good of Cocksmoor than any one else,” said + Ethel. + </p> + <p> + More might have been said, but they perceived that they were being + overtaken by the body of clergy, who had been unrobing in the vestry. + Ethel hastened to retreat within Mrs. Elwood’s wicket gate, but she was + arrested by Richard, and found herself being presented to the bishop, and + the bishop shaking hands with her, and saying that he had much wished to + be introduced to her. + </p> + <p> + Of course, that was because she was her father’s daughter, and by way of + something to say. She mentioned what was going on at the cottage, + whereupon the bishop wished to go in and see the old people; and, + entering, they found the very comfortable-looking party just sitting down + to roast-beef and goose. John Taylor, in a new black coat, on account of + his clerkship, presiding at one end, and Mr. Elwood at the other, and Dame + Hall finding conversation for the whole assembly; while Blanche, Aubrey, + Gertrude, the little Larkinses, and the Abbotstoke Wilmots were ready to + act as waiters with infinite delight. Not a bit daunted by the bishop, who + was much entertained by her merry manner, old granny told him “she had + never seen nothing like it since the Jubilee, when the squire roasted an + ox whole, and there wasn’t none of it fit to eat; and when her poor father + got his head broken. Well, to be sure, who would have thought what would + come of Sam’s bringing in the young gentleman and lady to see her the day + her back was so bad!” + </p> + <p> + The bishop said grace, and left granny to the goose, while he gave Ethel + his arm, which she would have thought an unaccountable proceeding if she + had not recollected that Richard might be considered as host, and that she + was his eldest sister forthcoming. + </p> + <p> + No sooner, however, had they come beyond the wicket than she saw her + father speaking to Will Adams, and there was that in the air of both which + made it no surprise when Dr. May came up, saying, “Ethel, I must carry you + away;” and, in explanation to the bishop, “my poor girl at home is not so + well.” + </p> + <p> + All was inquiry and sympathy. Ethel was frantic to be at home, and would + have rushed off at once, if Richard had not held her fast, asking what + good she would do by hurrying in, breathless and exhausted, so as to add + to Flora’s fright and distress, the anxiety which was most upon their + minds, since she had never before witnessed one of the seizures, that were + only too ordinary matters in the eyes of the home party. No one but Dr. + May and Ethel should go. Richard undertook to tell the rest, and the gig + making its appearance, Ethel felt that the peculiarly kind manner with + which the bishop pressed her hand, and gave them all good wishes, was like + a continuation of his blessing to aid her in her home scene of trial. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, it was well for her that her part in the consecration festivities + should end here; at least so thought Mr. Wilmot, who, though very sorry + for the cause, could not wish her to have been present at the luncheon. + She had not thought of self hitherto, the church was the gift of Alan and + Margaret, the work of preparing the people belonged to all alike, and she + did not guess that, in the sight of others, she was not the nobody that + she believed herself. Her share in the work at Cocksmoor was pretty well + known, and Dr. Hoxton could not allow a public occasion to pass without + speeches, such as must either have been very painful, or very hurtful to + her. The absence of herself and her father, however, permitted a more free + utterance to the general feeling; and things were said, that did indeed + make the rest of the family extremely hot and uncomfortable, but which + gave them extreme pleasure. Norman was obliged to spare Richard the + answer, and said exactly what he ought, and so beautifully, that Meta + could not find it in her heart to echo the fervent wish, which he + whispered as he sat down, that speechifying could be abolished by Act of + Parliament. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Arnott began to perceive that her nephew was something to be proud + of, and to understand how much was sacrificed, while George Rivers + expressed his opinion to her that Norman would be a crack speaker in the + House, and he hoped she would say everything to hinder his going out, for + it was a regular shame to waste him on the niggers. + </p> + <p> + Owing to George having constituted himself her squire, Mrs. Arnott had not + arrived at an understanding of the state of affairs at home; but, as soon + as they rose up from luncheon, and she learned the truth from Richard and + Mary, nothing would hinder her from walking home at once to see whether + she could be useful. Mary was easily persuaded to remain, for she was + accustomed to Margaret’s having these attacks, and had always been kept + out of her room the while, so she had little uneasiness to prevent her + from being very happy, in receiving in her own simple, good-humoured way + all the attentions that lapsed upon her in the place of her elder sisters. + </p> + <p> + “Cocksmoor really has a church!” was note enough of joy for her, and no + one could look at her round face without seeing perfect happiness. + Moreover, when after evening service, the November mist turned into + decided rain, she was as happy as a queen in her foresight, which had + provided what seemed an unlimited supply of cloaks and umbrellas. She + appeared to have an original genius for making the right people give a + lift in their carriages to the distressed; and, regarding the Abbotstoke + britska as her own, packed in Mrs. Anderson and Fanny, in addition to all + their own little ones, Meta thrusting Miss Bracy into the demi-corner + destined for herself at the last minute, and, remaining with Mary, the + only ladies obliged to walk back to Stoneborough. So delighted were they + “at the fun,” that it might have been thought the most charming of + adventures, and they laughed all the more at the lack of umbrellas. They + went to Mrs. Elwood’s, divested themselves of all possible finery, and + tucked up the rest; Meta was rolled up from head to foot in a great old + plaid shawl of Mrs. Elwood’s, and Mary had a cloak of Richard’s, the one + took Norman’s arm, the other Dr. Spencer’s, and they trudged home through + the darkness and the mud in the highest glee, quite sorry when the + carriage met them half-way. + </p> + <p> + It was the last mirth that they enjoyed for many weeks. When they reached + home, a sense of self-reproach for their glee thrilled over them, when + they found a sort of hush pervading the drawing-room, and saw the faces of + awe and consternation, worn by Blanche and George Rivers. + </p> + <p> + “It was a much worse attack than usual, and it did not go off,” was all + that Blanche knew, but her father had desired to be told when Dr. Spencer + came home, and she went up with the tidings. + </p> + <p> + This brought Flora down, looking dreadfully pale, and with her voice sunk + away as it had been when she lost her child. Her husband started up, + exclaiming at her aspect; she let him support her to the sofa, and gave + the few particulars. Margaret had been as placid and comfortable as usual, + till nurse came to dress her, but the first move had brought on the + faintness and loss of breath. It did not yield to remedies, and she had + neither looked nor spoken since, only moaned. Flora thought her father + much alarmed; and then, after an interval, she began to entreat that they + might stay there, sending Miss Bracy and the children to the Grange to + make room. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Dr. Spencer had come to the sick-room, but he could only suggest + remedies that were already in course of application to the insensible + sufferer. Mrs. Arnott and Ethel were watching, and trying everything to + relieve her, but with little effect, and Ethel presently stood by the fire + with her father, as Dr. Spencer turned towards him, and he said, in a very + low, but calm voice, “It won’t do—I believe it is the death-stroke.” + </p> + <p> + “Not immediate,” said Dr. Spencer. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Dr. May; and he quietly spoke of what the disease had effected, + and what yet remained for it to do, ere the silver bowl should be broken. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer put in a word of agreement. + </p> + <p> + “Will there be no rally?” said Ethel, in the same tone. + </p> + <p> + “Probably not,” said Dr. May; “the brain is generally reached at this + stage. I have seen it coming for a long time. The thing was done seven + years ago. There was a rally for a time when youth was strong; but + suspense and sorrow accelerated what began from the injury to the spine.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer bowed his head, and looked at him anxiously, saying, “I do not + think there will be much acute suffering.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear it may be as trying,” said Dr. May, sighing; and then turning to + Ethel, and throwing his arm round her, “May God make it easy to her, and + grant us ‘patient hearts.’ We will not grudge her to all that she loves + best, my Ethel.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel clung to him, as if to derive strength from him. But the strength + that was in them then did not come from earth. Dr. Spencer wrung his hand, + and stepped back to the bed to try another resource. Vain again, they only + seemed to be tormenting her, and the silent helplessness prevailed again. + Then Dr. May went down to Flora, told her the true state of the case, and + urged on her to give up her plan of remaining. George joined with him, and + she yielded submissively, but would not be refused going up once again and + kissing her sister, standing beside her gazing at her, till her father + came softly and drew her away. “I shall be here to-morrow,” she said to + Ethel, and went. + </p> + <p> + The morrow, however, brought no Flora. The agitation and distress of that + day had broken her down completely, and she was so ill as to be unable to + move. Her aunt went at once to see her, and finding that her presence at + the Grange relieved some of Dr. May’s anxieties, chiefly devoted herself + to her. Flora was grateful and gentle, but as silent and impenetrable as + ever, while day after day she lay on her couch, uncomplaining and + undemonstrative, visited by her father, and watched over by her aunt and + sister-in-law, who began to know each other much better, though Flora less + than ever, in that deep fixed grief. She only roused herself to return her + husband’s affection, or to listen to the daily reports of Margaret. Poor + George, he was very forlorn, though Meta did her best to wait on him, and + he rode over twice a day to inquire at Stoneborough. + </p> + <p> + The doctors were right, and the consecration morning was her last of full + consciousness. From the hour when she had heard the sound of Alan’s bells, + her ears were closed to earthly sounds. There was very little power of + intercourse with her, as she lingered on the borders of the land very far + away, where skill and tenderness could not either reach body or spirit. + Often the watchers could not tell whether she was conscious, or only + incapacitated from expression, by the fearful weight on her breath, which + caused a restlessness most piteous in the exhausted helpless frame, wasted + till the softest touch was anguish. Now and then came precious gleams when + a familiar voice, or some momentary alleviation would gain a smile, or + thanks, and they thought her less restless when Richard read prayers + beside her, but words were very rare, only now and then a name, and when + in most distress, “it will be soon over,” “it will soon be over,” occurred + so often, that they began to think it once her solace, and now repeated + habitually without a meaning. + </p> + <p> + They could not follow her into the valley of the shadow of death, but + could only watch the frail earthly prison-house being broken down, as if + the doom of sin must be borne, though faith could trust that it was but + her full share in the Cross. Calmly did those days pass. Ethel, Richard, + and Mary divided between them the watching and the household cares, and + their father bore up bravely in the fullness of his love and faith, + resigning her daughter to the Hands which were bearing her whither her + joys had long since departed. + </p> + <p> + Hector Ernescliffe arrived when the holidays began; and his agony of + sorrow, when she failed to recognise him, moved Dr. May to exert himself + earnestly for his consolation; and, at the same time, Tom, in a gentle, + almost humble manner, paid a sort of daughter-like attention to the + smallest services for his father, as if already accepting him as his + especial charge. + </p> + <p> + It was midnight, on the longest night of the year; Ethel was lying on her + bed, and had fallen into a brief slumber, when her father’s low, clear + voice summoned her: “Ethel, she is going!” + </p> + <p> + There was a change on the face, and the breath came in labouring gasps. + Richard lifted her head, and her eyes once more opened; she smiled once + more. + </p> + <p> + “Papa!” she said, “dear papa!” + </p> + <p> + He threw himself on his knees beside her, but she looked beyond him, + “Mamma! Alan! oh, there they are! More! more!” and, as though the + unspeakable dawned on her, she gasped for utterance, then looked, with a + consoling smile, on her father. “Over now!” she said—and the last + struggle was ended. That which Richard laid down was no longer Margaret + May. + </p> + <p> + Over now! The twenty-five years’ life, the seven years’ captivity on her + couch, the anxious headship of the motherless household, the hopeless + betrothal, the long suspense, the efforts for resignation, the widowed + affections, the slow decay, the tardy, painful death agony—all was + over; nothing left, save what they had rendered the undying spirit, and + the impress her example had left on those around her. + </p> + <p> + The long continuance of the last suffering had softened the actual + parting; and it was with thankfulness for the cessation of her pain that + they turned away, and bade each other good-night. + </p> + <p> + Ethel would not have believed that her first wakening to the knowledge + that Margaret was gone could have been more fraught with relief than with + misery. And, for her father, it seemed as if it were a home-like, + comfortable thought to him, that her mother had one of her children with + her. He called her the first link of his Daisy Chain drawn up out of + sight; and, during the quiet days that ensued, he seemed as it were to be + lifted above grief, dwelling upon hope. His calmness impressed the same on + his children, as they moved about in the solemn stillness of the house; + and when Harry, pale, and shocked at the blow to him so sudden, came home, + the grave silence soothed his violence of grief; and he sat beside his, + father or Mary, speaking in undertones of what Margaret had loved to hear + from him, of Alan Ernescliffe’s last moments. + </p> + <p> + Mary gave way to a burst of weeping when she sought, in vain, for daisies + in the wintry garden; but Hector Ernescliffe went down to the cloisters, + and brought back the lingering blossoms to be placed on Margaret’s bosom. + </p> + <p> + The dog Toby had followed him, unseen, to the cloister; and he was + entering the garden, when he was struck by seeing the animal bounding, in + irrepressible ecstasy, round a lad, whose tarpaulin hat, blue-bordered + collar, and dark blue dress, showed him to be a sailor, as well as the + broad-shouldered, grizzled, elderly man, who stood beside him. + </p> + <p> + “I say, sir,” said the latter, as Hector’s hand was on the door, “do you + belong to Dr. May?” + </p> + <p> + Hector unhesitatingly answered that he did. + </p> + <p> + “Then, maybe, sir, you have heard of one Bill Jennings.” + </p> + <p> + Hector was all in one flush, almost choking, as he told that he was Mr. + Ernescliffe’s brother, and gave his hand to the sailor. “What could he do + for him?” + </p> + <p> + Jennings had heard from one of the crew of the Bucephalus that Mr. May had + been met, on his return to Portsmouth, by the news of his sister’s death. + The Mays had helped his boy; he had been with Mr. May in the island; he + had laid Mr. Ernescliffe in his grave; and some notion had crossed the + sailor that he must be at Miss Margaret’s funeral—it might be they + would let him lend a hand—and, in this expedition, he was spending + his time on shore. + </p> + <p> + How he was welcomed need not be told, nor how the tears came forth from + full hearts, as Dr. May granted his wish, and thanked him for doing what + Margaret herself would indeed have chosen; and, in his blue sailor garb, + was Jennings added to the bearers, their own men, and two Cocksmoor + labourers, who, early on Christmas Eve, carried her to the minster. Last + time she had been there, Alan Ernescliffe had supported her. Now, what was + mortal of him lay beneath the palm tree, beneath the glowing summer sky, + while the first snow-flakes hung like pearls on her pall. But as they laid + her by her mother’s side, who could doubt that they were together? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At length I got unto the gladsome hill, + Where lay my hope; + Where lay my heart; and, climbing still, + When I had gained the brow and top, + A lake of brackish waters on the ground, + Was all I found. + —GEORGE HERBERT. +</pre> + <p> + Late in the evening of the same snowy 24th of December, a little daughter + awoke to life at Abbotstoke Grange, and, not long after, Mrs. Arnott came + to summon Dr May from the anxious vigil in the sitting-room. “Come and see + if you can do anything to soothe her,” she said, with much alarm. “The + first sight of the baby has put her into such a state of agitation, that + we do not know what to do with her.” + </p> + <p> + It was so, when he came to her bedside; that fixed stony look of despair + was gone; the source of tears, so long dried up, had opened again; and + there she lay, weeping quietly indeed, but profusely, and with deep + heaving sobs. To speak, or to leave her alone, seemed equally perilous, + but he chose the first—he kissed and blessed her, and gave her joy. + She looked up at him as if his blessing once more brought peace, and said + faintly, “Now it is pardon—now I can die!” + </p> + <p> + “The cloud is gone! Thanks for that above all!” said Dr. May fervently. + “Now, my dear, rest in thankful gladness—you are too weak to talk or + think.” + </p> + <p> + “I am weak—I am tired of it all,” said Flora. “I am glad to be going + while I am so happy—there are Margaret—my own darling—rest—peace—” + </p> + <p> + “You are not going, dearest,” said her father; “at least, I trust not, if + you will not give way; here is a darling given to you, instead of the + first, who needs you more.” + </p> + <p> + He would have taken the infant from the nurse and held her to her mother, + but, recollecting how little Leonora had drawn her last breath in his + arms, he feared the association, and signed to Mrs. Arnott to show her the + child; but she seemed as yet only able to feel that it was not Leonora, + and the long sealed-up grief would have its way. The tears burst out + again. “Tell Ethel she will be the best mother to her. Name her Margaret—make + her a Daisy of your own—don’t call her after me,” she said, with + such passionate caresses, that Mrs. Arnott was glad to take the babe away. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May’s next expedient was to speak to her of her husband, who needed + her more than all, and to call him in. There seemed to be something + tranquillising in his wistful manner of repeating, “Don’t cry, Flora;” and + she was at last reduced, by her extreme exhaustion, to stillness; but + there were still many fears for her. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May’s prediction was accomplished—that she would suffer for + having over-exerted herself. Her constitution had been severely tried by + the grief and despondency that she had so long endured in silence, and the + fresh sorrow for her favourite sister coming at such a crisis. There was a + weariness of life, and an unwillingness to resume her ordinary routine, + that made her almost welcome her weakness and sinking; and now that the + black terror had cleared away from the future, she seemed to long to + follow Margaret at once, and to yearn after her lost child; while appeals + to the affection that surrounded her often seemed to oppress her, as if + there were nothing but weariness and toil in store. + </p> + <p> + The state of her mind made her father very anxious, though it was but too + well accounted for. Poor Flora had voluntarily assumed the trammels that + galled her; worldly motives had prompted her marriage, and though she + faithfully loved her husband, he was a heavy weight on her hands, and she + had made it more onerous by thrusting him into a position for which he was + not calculated, and inspiring him with a self-consequence that would not + recede from it. The shock of her child’s death had taken away the zest and + energy which had rejoiced in her chosen way of life, and opened her eyes + to see what Master she had been serving; and the perception of the + hollowness of all that had been apparently good in her, had filled her + with remorse and despair. Her sufferings had been the more bitter because + she had not parted with her proud reserve. She had refused council, and + denied her confidence to those who could have guided her repentance. Her + natural good sense, and the sound principle in which she had been brought + up, had taught her to distrust her gloomy feelings as possibly morbid; and + she had prayed, keeping her hold of faith in the Infinite Mercy, though + she could not feel her own part in it; and thus that faith was beginning + at last to clear her path. + </p> + <p> + It was the harder to deal with her, because her hysterical agitation was + so easily excited, that her father hardly dared to let a word be spoken to + her; and she was allowed to see no one else except her aunt and the dear + old nurse, whose tears for her child Margaret had been checked by the + urgent requirements of another of her nurslings; and whom George Rivers + would have paid with her weight in gold, for taking care of his new + daughter, regarding her as the only woman in the world that could be + trusted. + </p> + <p> + Those were heavy days with every one, though each brought some shade of + improvement. They were harder to bear than the peaceful days that had + immediately followed the loss of Margaret; and Ethel was especially + unhappy and forlorn under the new anxiety, where she could be of no + service; and with her precious occupation gone; her father absent, instead + of resting upon her; and her room deserted. She was grieved with herself, + because her feelings were unable to soar at the Christmas Feast, as erst + on St. Andrew’s Day; and she was bewildered and distressed by the fear + that she had then been only uplifted by vanity and elation. + </p> + <p> + She told Richard so, and he said, kindly, that he thought a good deal of + that she complained of arose from bodily weariness. + </p> + <p> + This hurt her a little; but when he said, “I think that the blessings of + St. Andrew’s Day helped us through what was to follow,” she owned that it + had indeed been so, and added, “I am going to work again! Tell me what + will be most useful to you at Cocksmoor.” + </p> + <p> + Sick at heart as she was, she bravely set herself to appropriate the hours + now left vacant; and manfully walked with Richard and Harry to church at + Cocksmoor on St. Stephen’s Day; but the church brought back the sense of + contrast. Next, she insisted on fulfilling their intention of coming home + by Abbotstoke to hear how Flora was, when the unfavourable account only + added lead to the burden that weighed her down. Though they were sent home + in the carriage, she was so completely spent, that the effect of returning + home to her room, without its dear inhabitant, was quite overwhelming, and + she sat on her bed for half an hour, struggling with repinings. She came + downstairs without having gained the victory, and was so physically + overcome with lassitude, that Richard insisted on her lying on the sofa, + and leaving everything to him and Mary. + </p> + <p> + Richard seemed to make her his object in life, and was an unspeakable help + and comforter to her, not only by taking every care for her for her sake, + but by turning to her as his own friend and confidante, the best able to + replace what they had lost. There were many plans to be put in operation + for Cocksmoor, on which much consultation was needed, though every word + reminded them sadly of Margaret’s ever ready interest in those schemes. It + was very unlike Ethel’s vision of the first weeks of St. Andrew’s Church; + but it might be safer for her than that aught should tempt her to say, + “See what my perseverance has wrought!” Perhaps her Margaret had begun to + admire her too much to be her safest confidante—at any rate, it was + good still to sow in tears, rather than on earth to reap in confident joy. + </p> + <p> + Norman was as brotherly and kind as possible; but it was one of the dreary + feelings of those days, that Ethel then first became aware of the + difference that his engagement had made, and saw that he resorted + elsewhere for sympathy. She was not jealous, and acquiesced submissively + and resolutely; but they had been so much to each other, that it was a + trial, especially at such a time as this, when freshly deprived of + Margaret. + </p> + <p> + Norman’s own prospect was not cheerful. He had received a letter from New + Zealand, begging him to hasten his coming out, as there was educational + work much wanting him, and, according to his original wish, he could be + ordained there in the autumnal Ember Week. + </p> + <p> + He was in much perplexity, since, according to this request, he ought to + sail with his aunt in the last week of February, and he knew not how to + reconcile the conflicting claims. + </p> + <p> + Meta was not long in finding out the whole of his trouble, as they paced + up and down the terrace together on a frosty afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “You will go!” was her first exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “I ought,” said Norman, “I believe I ought, and if it had only been at any + other time, it would have been easy. My aunt’s company would have been + such a comfort for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be helped,” said Meta. + </p> + <p> + “Considering the circumstances,” began Norman, with lingering looks at the + little humming-bird on his arm, “I believe I should be justified in + waiting till such time as you could go with me. I could see what Mr. + Wilmot thinks.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t think so yourself,” said Meta. “Nobody else can give a + judgment. In a thing like this, asking is, what you once called, seeking + opinions as Balaam inquired.” + </p> + <p> + “Turning my words against me?” said Norman, smiling. “Still, Meta, perhaps + older heads would be fitter to judge what would be right for a little + person not far off.” + </p> + <p> + “She can be the best judge of that herself,” said Meta. “Norman,” and her + dark eyes were steadfastly fixed, “I always resolved that, with God’s + help, I would not be a stumbling-block in the way of your call to your + work. I will not. Go out now—perhaps you will be freer for it + without me, and I suppose I have a longer apprenticeship to serve to all + sorts of things before I come to help you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Meta, you are a rebuke to me!” + </p> + <p> + “What? when I am going to stay by my own fireside?” said Meta, trying to + laugh, but not very successfully. “Seriously, I have much to do here. When + poor Flora gets well, she must be spared all exertion for a long time to + come; and I flatter myself that they want me at Stoneborough sometimes. If + your father can bear to spare you, there is no doubt that you ought to + go.” + </p> + <p> + “My father is as unselfish as you are, Meta. But I cannot speak to him + until he is more easy about Flora. We always think the required sacrifice + the hardest, but I must own that I could not grieve if he laid his + commands on me to wait till the autumn.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that would make it a duty and all easy,” said Meta, smiling; “but I + don’t think he will; and Aunt Flora will be only too glad to carry you out + without encumbrance.” + </p> + <p> + “Has not Aunt Flora come to her senses about you?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe she would rather I belonged to any of her nephews but you. She + is such a dear, sincere, kind-hearted person, and we are so comfortable + together, that it will be quite like home to come out to her! I mean + there, to convince her that I can be of something like use.” + </p> + <p> + Meta talked so as to brighten and invigorate Norman when they were + together, but they both grew low-spirited when apart. The humming-bird had + hardly ever been so downcast as at present—that is, whenever she was + not engaged in waiting on her brother, or in cheering up Dr. May, or in + any of the many gentle offices that she was ever fulfilling. She was + greatly disappointed, and full of fears for Norman, and dread of the + separation, but she would not give way; and only now and then, when off + her guard, would the sadness reign on her face without an effort. Alone, + she fought and prayed for resignation for herself, and protection and + strength for him, and chid herself for the foolish feeling that he would + be safer with her. + </p> + <p> + She told Aunt Flora how it was one evening, as they sat over the fire + together, speaking with a would-be tone of congratulation. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Arnott. “But that is a great pity!” + </p> + <p> + Meta looked quite brightened by her saying so. “I thought you would be + glad,” she rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “Did you think me so hard-hearted?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you believed he would be better without me.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, we have not kept house and nursed together for a month for + nothing,” said Mrs. Arnott, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Meta, trying to answer the smile. “You have taken a load + off me!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like it at all,” said Mrs. Arnott. “It is a very uncomfortable + plan for every one. And yet when I know how great is the want of him out + there, I can say nothing against it without high treason. Well, my dear, + I’ll take all the care I can of Norman, and when you come, I shall be + almost as glad as if we were coming home for good. Poor Flora! she is one + person who will not regret the arrangement.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Flora!—you think her really better this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Much better, indeed; if we could only raise her spirits, I think she + would recover very well; but she is so sadly depressed. I must try to talk + to Ethel—she may better understand her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never understood Flora,” said Meta. “She has been as kind to me as + possible, and I very soon came to a certain point with her, but I never + have known her thoroughly. I doubt whether any one did but dear Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + Flora was, however, much softened and less reserved than she had been. She + found great repose in her aunt’s attendance, retracing, as it did, her + mother’s presence, and she responded to her tenderness with increasing + reliance and comfort; while as her strength began to revive, and there was + more disposition to talk, she became gradually drawn into greater + confidence. + </p> + <p> + The seeing of Ethel was one of the difficult questions. Flora had begun to + wish it very much, and yet the bare idea threw her into a nervous tremor, + that caused it to be put off again and again. Her aunt found her one day + almost faint with agitation—she had heard Ethel’s voice in the next + room, and had been winding up her expectations, and now was as much + grieved as relieved, to find that she had been there seeing the baby, but + was now gone. + </p> + <p> + “How does the dear Ethel look?” asked Flora presently. + </p> + <p> + “She is looking better to-day; she has looked very worn and harassed, but + I thought her brighter to-day. She walked over by Aubrey on his pony, and + I think it did her good.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear old Ethel! Aunt, it is a thing that no one has told me yet. Can you + tell me how she bore the news of Norman Ogilvie’s engagement?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean—” and Mrs. Arnott stopped short in her interrogation. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Flora, answering the pause. + </p> + <p> + “But I thought young Ogilvie a most unexceptionable person.” + </p> + <p> + “So he is,” said Flora. “I was much annoyed at the time, but she was + resolute.” + </p> + <p> + “In rejecting him?” + </p> + <p> + “In running away as soon as she found what was likely to happen;” and + Flora, in a few words, told what had passed at Oxford. + </p> + <p> + “Then it was entirely out of devotion to your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely,” said Flora. “No one could look at her without seeing that she + liked him. I had left her to be the only effective one at home, and she + sacrificed herself.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that I have seen her,” said Mrs. Arnott. “I should never have + understood her by description. I always said that I must come home to set + my correspondence going rightly.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Flora,” said her niece, “do you remember my dear mother’s unfinished + letter to you?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I do, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing ever was more true,” said Flora. “I read it over some little time + ago, when I set my papers in order, and understood it then. I never did + before. I used to think it very good for the others.” + </p> + <p> + “It is what one generally does with good advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you recollect the comparison between Norman, Ethel, and me? It is so + curious. Norman, who was ambitious and loved praise, but now dreads + nothing so much; Ethel, who never cared for anything of the kind, but went + straight on her own brave way; and oh! Aunt Flora—me—” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, my dear, I should have thought you had her most full + approbation.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! don’t you see the tone, as if she were not fully satisfied, as if she + only could not see surface faults in me,” said Flora; “and how she said + she dreaded my love of praise, and of being liked. I wonder how it would + have been if she had lived. I have looked back so often in the past year, + and I think the hollowness began from that time. It might have been there + before, but I am not so sure. You see, at that dreadful time, after the + accident, I was the eldest who was able to be efficient, and much more + useful than poor Ethel. I think the credit I gained made me think myself + perfection, and I never did anything afterwards but seek my own honour.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Arnott began better to understand Flora’s continued depression, but + she thought her self-reproach exaggerated, and said something at once + soothing and calculated to encourage her to undraw the curtain of reserve. + </p> + <p> + “You do not know,” continued Flora, “how greedy I was of credit and + affection. It made me jealous of Ethel herself, as long as we were in the + same sphere; and when I felt that she was more to papa than I could be, I + looked beyond home for praise. I don’t think the things I did were bad in + themselves—brought up as I have been, they could hardly be so. I + knew what merits praise and blame too well for that—but oh! the + motive. I do believe I cared very much for Cocksmoor. I thought it would + be a grand thing to bring about; but, you see, as it has turned out, all I + thought I had done for it was in vain; and Ethel has been the real person + and does not know it. I used to think Ethel so inferior to me. I left her + all my work at home. If it had not been for that, she might have been + happy with Norman Ogilvie—for never were two people better matched, + and now she has done what I never thought to have left to another—watched + over our own Margaret. Oh! how shall I ever bear to see her?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I am sure nothing can be more affectionate than Ethel. She does + not think these things.” + </p> + <p> + “She does,” said Flora. “She always knew me better than I did myself. Her + straightforward words should often have been rebukes to me. I shall see in + every look and tone the opinion I have deserved. I have shrunk from her + steadfast looks ever since I myself learned what I was. I could not bear + them now—and yet—oh, aunt, you must bring her! Ethel! my dear, + dear old King—my darling’s godmother—the last who was with + Margaret!” + </p> + <p> + She had fallen into one of those fits of weeping when it was impossible to + attempt anything but soothing her; but, though she was so much exhausted + that Mrs. Arnott expected to be in great disgrace with Dr. May for having + let her talk herself into this condition, she found that he was satisfied + to find that she had so far relieved her mind, and declared that she would + be better now. + </p> + <p> + The effect of the conversation was, that the next day, the last of the + twelve Christmas days, when Ethel, whose yearning after her sister was + almost equally divided between dread and eagerness—eagerness for her + embrace, and dread of the chill of her reserve, came once again in hopes + of an interview. Dr. May called her at once. “I shall take you in without + any preparation,” he said, “that she may not have time to be flurried. + Only, be quiet and natural.” + </p> + <p> + Did he know what a mountain there was in her throat when he seemed to + think it so easy to be natural? + </p> + <p> + She found him leading her into a darkened room, and heard his cheerful + tones saying, “I have brought Ethel to you!” + </p> + <p> + “Ethel! oh!” said a low, weak voice, with a sound as of expecting a treat, + and Ethel was within a curtain, where she began, in the dimness, to see + something white moving, and her hands were clasped by two long thin ones. + “There!” said Dr. May, “now, if you will be good, I will leave you alone. + Nurse is by to look after you, and you know she always separates naughty + children.” + </p> + <p> + Either the recurrence to nursery language, or the mere sisterly touch + after long separation, seemed to annihilate all the imaginary mutual + dread, and, as Ethel bent lower and lower, and Flora’s arms were round + her, the only feeling was of being together again, and both at once made + the childish gesture of affection, and murmured the old pet names of + “Flossy,” and “King,” that belonged to almost forgotten days, when they + were baby sisters, then kissed each other again. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t see you,” said Ethel, drawing herself up a little. “Why, Flora, + you look like a little white shadow!” + </p> + <p> + “I have had such weak eyes,” said Flora, “and this dim light is + comfortable. I see your old sharp face quite plain.” + </p> + <p> + “But what can you do here?” + </p> + <p> + “Do? Oh, dear Ethel, I have not had much of doing. Papa says I have three + years’ rest to make up.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Flora!” said Ethel; “but I should have thought it tiresome, + especially for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only now been able to think again,” said Flora; “and you will say + I am taking to quoting poetry. Do you remember some lines in that drama + that Norman admired so much?” + </p> + <p> + “Philip von Artevelde?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I can’t recollect them now, though they used to be always running in + my head—something about time to mend and time to mourn.” + </p> + <p> + “These?” said Ethel— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. + Eternity mourns that.” + </pre> + <p> + “I never had time before for either,” said Flora. “You cannot think how I + used to be haunted by those, when I was chased from one thing to another, + all these long, long eighteen months. I am in no haste to take up work + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Mending as well as mourning,” said Ethel thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Flora sighed. + </p> + <p> + “And now you have that dear little Christmas gift to—” Ethel paused. + </p> + <p> + “She is not nearly so fine and healthy as her sister was,” said Flora, + “poor little dear. You know, Ethel, even now, I shall have very little + time with her in that London life. Her papa wants me so much, and I must + leave her to—to the nurses.” Flora’s voice trembled again. + </p> + <p> + “Our own dear old nurse,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I wanted to thank you all for sparing her to us,” said Flora. “George + wished it so much. But how does poor little Daisy bear it?” + </p> + <p> + “Very magnanimously,” said Ethel, smiling. “In fact, nurse has had but + little to do with Daisy of late, and would have been very forlorn at home. + It is better for Aubrey and for her, not to return to be babies to comfort + poor nurse. I have been breaking up the nursery, and taking Gertrude to + live with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you gone back there again?” + </p> + <p> + “It would not have been better for waiting,” said Ethel; “and Gertrude was + so proud to come to me. I could not have done it without her, but papa + must not have vacancy next to him.” + </p> + <p> + “It has been hard on you for me to engross him,” said Flora; “but oh, + Ethel, I could not spare him. I don’t think even you can tell what papa + is.” + </p> + <p> + “You have found it out,” said Ethel, in an odd, dry manner; which in + sound, though not in feeling, was a contrast to the soft, whispering, + tearful murmurs of her sister. + </p> + <p> + “And my aunt!” continued Flora—“that I should have taken up such a + great piece of her short visit!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it is coming to an end very fast,” said Ethel, sighing; “but you had + the best right to her, and she and Meta have seen so much of each other. + She tells me she is quite satisfied about Meta now.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to see Meta looking out of spirits,” said Flora. “I almost + made her cry by saying something about Norman. Is there anything going + wrong?” + </p> + <p> + Ethel, as usual, blundered into the subject. “Only about Norman’s going + out.” + </p> + <p> + Flora asked further questions, and she was obliged to explain. It roused + Flora’s energies at once. + </p> + <p> + “This will never do!” she said. “They must marry, and go with my aunt.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel was aghast. “They would not hear of it now!” + </p> + <p> + “They must. It is the only reasonable thing. Why, Norman would be + miserable, and as to Meta—Imagine his going out and returning—a + year’s work, such an expense and loss of time, besides the missing Aunt + Flora.” + </p> + <p> + “If it were not wrong—” + </p> + <p> + “The waste would be the wrong thing. Besides—” and she told of + Margaret’s wishes. + </p> + <p> + “But, Flora, think—the last week in February—and you so ill!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not to marry them,” said Flora, smiling. “If it could be in a + fortnight, they could go and get their outfit afterwards, and come back to + us when I am stronger. Let me see—there need be no fuss about + settlements—Mr. Rivers’s will arranges everything for her.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a good thing to get rid of a fine wedding,” said Ethel; “but + they will never consent!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they will, and be grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa would be happier about Norman,” said Ethel; “but I cannot fancy his + liking it. And you—you can’t spare Meta, for Aunt Flora must go to + the Arnotts’ in a week or two more.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose papa was to let me have you,” said Flora. “If he wants you, he + must come after you.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel gasped at the thought that her occupation at home was gone, but she + said, “If I am not too awkward for you, dear Flora. You will miss Meta + terribly.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t keep the humming-bird caged, with her heart far away,” said + Flora. + </p> + <p> + Dr. May came in to break up the conversation, and Ethel quickly guessed + from his manner that Norman had been talking to him. Flora told him that + she had been agreeing with Ethel that Meta had much better not miss this + opportunity. He was far less startled than Ethel had expected; indeed, the + proposal was rather a relief to his mind, and his chief objection was the + fear that Flora would be fatigued by the extra bustle; but she promised + not to trouble herself about it, otherwise than that if Norman could not + persuade Meta, she would. The sisters parted, much more comfortable than + before. Ethel felt as if she had found something like a dim reflection of + Margaret, and Flora’s fear of Ethel had fled away from the mere force of + sisterhood. + </p> + <p> + As to Norman, he declared that he had not the audacity to make the + proposal to Meta, though he was only too grateful; so his father carried + it to the humming-bird; and, as soon as she found that it was not + improper, nor would hurt any one’s feelings, she gave ready consent—only + begging that it might be as best suited every one, especially Flora; and + ending by a whisper to her dear fatherly friend, owning that she was “very + glad—she meant she was very glad there would be nobody there.” + </p> + <p> + So Norman and Meta settled their plans as they walked home together from + evening service, after listening to the prophecies of the blessings to be + spread into the waste and desolate places, which should yet become the + heritage of the Chosen, and with the evening star shining on them, like a + faint reflex of the Star of the East, Who came to be a Light to lighten + the Gentiles. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Euna delle facolta singolari ed incommunicabili della religione + Cristiana questa, di poter dare indirizzo e quiete a chiunoque, in + qualsivoglia congiuntura, a qualsivoglia termine, ricorra ad essa. + Se al passato v’e rimedio, essa lo prescrive, lo somministra, presta + lume e vigore per metterlo in opera a qualunque costo; se non v’e, + essa da il, modo di fare realmento e in effeto, cio che 1’ uom dice + in proverbio, della necessita virtu. Insegna a continuare con + sapienza cio che e stato intrapreso per leggerezza, piega l’animo ad + abbracciare con propensione cio che e stato imposto dalla prepotenza, + e da ad un elezione che fu temeraria, ma che e irrevocabile, tutta la + santita, tutto il consiglio, diciamolo pur francamenta, tutte le + gioje della vocazione.—MANZONI. +</pre> + <p> + The wedding-day was fixed for the 20th of January, since it was less risk + to Flora as an absolute invalid, than as convalescent enough to take any + share in the doings. + </p> + <p> + Meta managed her correspondence with her own relatives, and obtained her + uncle’s kind approval, since he saw there could be nothing else; while her + aunt treated her as an infatuated victim, but wished, for her mother’s + sake, to meet her in London before she sailed. + </p> + <p> + The worst stroke of all was to Bellairs, who had never chosen to believe + that her mistress could move without her, and though mortally afraid in + crossing to the Isle of Wight, and utterly abhorring all “natives,” went + into hysterics on finding that her young lady would take out no maid but a + little hard-working village girl; and though transferred in the most + flattering manner to Mrs. Rivers’s service, shed a tear for every stitch + she set in the trousseau, and assured her betrothed butler that, if Miss + Rivers would only have heard reason, she would have followed her to the + world’s end, rather than that her beautiful hair should never look like + anything again. + </p> + <p> + So the wedding-day came, and grass and trees wore a fitting suit of crisp + hoariness. Nothing could be quieter. Meta was arrayed by the sobbing + Bellairs in her simple bridal white, wrapped herself in a large shawl, + took her brother’s arm, and walked down the frosty path with him and Mrs. + Arnott, as if going merely to the daily service. + </p> + <p> + The time had not been made known, and there was hardly an addition to the + ordinary congregation, except the May family and Dr. Spencer; but the + Christmas evergreens still adorned aisle and chancel, and over the altar + stood the motto that Meta herself had woven of holly, on that Christmas + Eve of grief and anxiety, without knowing how it would speak to her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fear not, for behold I bring unto you glad tidings of great joy, + that shall be unto you and to all people. +</pre> + <p> + Fear not, for length of voyage, for distance from kindred, for hardship, + privation, misunderstanding, disappointment. The glad tidings are to all + people, even to the utmost parts of the earth. Ye have your portion in the + great joy—ye have freely cast in your lot with those, whose feet are + beautiful on the mountains, who bear the good tidings. Fear not, for He is + with you, who will never forsake. + </p> + <p> + Thus Dr. May read the words with swelling heart, as he looked at his son’s + clear, grave, manful look, even as it had been when he made his + Confirmation vow—his natural nervous excitability quelled by a + spirit not his own, and chastened into strong purpose; and the bride, her + young face the more lovely for the depth of enthusiasm restrained by awe + and humility, as she stood without trembling or faltering, the strength of + innocence expressed in the whole bearing of her slight figure in her white + drapery. Around were the four sisterly bride’s-maids, their black dresses + showing that these were still the twilight days of mourning, and that none + would forget her, whose prayers might still bless their labour of love. + </p> + <p> + When Margaret Agatha May, on her husband’s arm, turned for a last look at + the altar of her own church, “Fear not,” in evergreen letters, was the + greeting she bore away. + </p> + <p> + Ethel was left at the Grange for the ensuing fortnight—a time of + unusual leisure both to her and to Flora, which they both prized highly, + for it taught them to know each other as they had never done before. + Flora’s confidence to her aunt had been a good thing for her, though so + partial; it opened the way for further unreserve to one who knew the + circumstances better, and, as to dread of Ethel, that could seldom prevail + in her presence, partly from long habit, partly from her deficiency of + manner, and still more from her true humility and affection. Gradually she + arrived at the perception of the history of her sister’s mind; understood + what gloom had once overshadowed it; and how, since light had once shone + upon her, she shrank not merely from the tasks that had become wearisome + to her, but from the dread of losing among them her present peace. + </p> + <p> + “They are your duty,” argued Ethel. “Duty brings peace.” + </p> + <p> + “They were not,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “They are now,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Dinners and parties, empty talk and vain show,” said Flora languidly. + “Are you come to their defence, Ethel? If you could guess how sick one + gets of them, and how much worse it is for them not to be hateful! And to + think of bringing my poor little girl up to the like, if she is spared!” + </p> + <p> + “If they are not duties, I would not do them,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “Ethel,” cried her sister, raising herself from her couch eagerly, “I will + say it to you! What should you think of George resigning his seat, and + living in peace here?” + </p> + <p> + “Would he?” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “If I wished it.” + </p> + <p> + “But what would he do with himself?” said Ethel, not in too complimentary + a strain. + </p> + <p> + “Yachting, farming, Cochin-Chinese—or something,” said Flora. + “Anything not so wearing as this!” + </p> + <p> + “That abominable candidate of Tomkins’s would come in!” exclaimed Ethel. + “Oh, Flora, that would be horrid!” + </p> + <p> + “That might be guarded against,” said Flora. “Perhaps Sir Henry—But + oh! let us leave politics in peace while we can. I thought we should do + some great good, but it is all a maze of confusion. It is so hard to know + principles from parties, and everything goes wrong! It is of no use to + contend with it!” + </p> + <p> + “It is never vain to contend with evil,” said Ethel. + </p> + <p> + “We are not generalising,” said Flora. “There is evil nearer home than the + state of parties, and I can’t see that George’s being in Parliament—being + what he is—is anything like the benefit to things in general—that + it is temptation and plague to me, besides the risk of London life for the + baby, now and hereafter.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say that I think it is,” said Ethel. “How nice it would be to + have you here! I am so glad you are willing to give it up.” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been better to have given it up untasted—like + Norman,” sighed Flora. “I will talk to George.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Flora,” said Ethel, a little startled, “you ought not to do such a + thing without advice.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be worry enough before it is done!” sighed Flora. “No fear of + that!” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a minute,” said Ethel, as if poor Flora could have done anything but + lie still on her sofa. “I think you ought to consider well before you set + it going.” + </p> + <p> + “Have not I longed for it day and night? It is an escape from peril for + ourselves and our child.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t be sure!” said Ethel. “It may be more wrong to make George desert + the post which—” + </p> + <p> + “Which I thrust him into,” said Flora. “My father told me as much.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean you to say that! But it is a puzzle. It seems as if it + were right to give up such things; yet, when I recollect the difficulty of + carrying an election right at Stoneborough, I think papa would be very + sorry. I don’t think his interest would bring in any sound man but his + son-in-law; and George himself seems to like his parliamentary life better + than anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Flora hesitatingly; for she knew it was true—he liked to + think himself important, and it gave him something to think of, and + regular occupation—not too active or onerous; but she could not tell + Ethel what she herself felt; that all she could do for him could not + prevent him from being held cheap by the men among whom she had placed + him. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Ethel, as she heard her affirmative, “I don’t think it is for + his dignity, for you to put him into Parliament to please you and then + take him out to please you.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take care of his dignity,” said Flora shortly. + </p> + <p> + “I know you would do it well—” + </p> + <p> + “I am sick of doing things well!” said poor Flora. “You little know how I + dread reading up all I must read presently! I shall lose all I have + scarcely gained. I cannot find peace any way, but by throwing down the + load I gave my peace for.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether this is truth or fancy,” said Ethel thoughtfully. “If you would + ask some one competent.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know there are some things one cannot ask?” said Flora. “I + don’t know why I spoke to you! Ah! come in! Why, George, that is a finer + egg than ever,” as he entered with a Shanghai egg in each hand, for her to + mark with the date when it had been laid. Poultry was a new hobby, and + Ethel had been hearing, in her tete-a-tete dinners with George, a great + deal about the perfections of the hideous monsters that had obtained + fabulous prices. They had been the best resource for conversation; but she + watched, with something between vexation and softness, how Flora roused + herself to give her full attention and interest to his prosing about his + pets, really pleased as it seemed; and, at last, encouraging him actually + to fetch his favourite cock to show her; when she went through the points + of perfection of the ungainly mass of feathers, and did not at all allow + Ethel to laugh at the unearthly sounds of disapproval which handling + elicited. + </p> + <p> + “And this is our senator!” thought Ethel. “I wonder whether Honorius’s hen + was a Shanghai! Poor Flora is right—it is poor work to make a silk + purse out of a sow’s ear! but, putting him into the place is one thing, + taking him out another. I wish she would take advice; but I never knew her + do that, except as a civil way of communicating her intentions. However, + she is not quite what she was! Poor dear! Aunt Flora will never believe + what a beautiful creature she used to be! It seems wrong to think of her + going back to that horrid London; but I can’t judge. For my part, I’d + rather do work, than no work for George, and he is a good, kind-hearted + fellow after all! I won’t be a crab!” + </p> + <p> + So Ethel did her best, and said the cock had a bright eye—all she + could say for him—and George instructed her to admire the awkward + legs, and invited her to a poultry show, at Whitford, in two days’ time—and + they sent him away to continue his consultations with the poultry woman, + which pullets should be preferred as candidates for a prize. + </p> + <p> + “Meta set him upon this,” said Flora. “I hope you will go, Ethel. You see + he can be very happy here.” + </p> + <p> + “Still,” said Ethel, “the more I think, the more sure I am that you ought + to ask advice.” + </p> + <p> + “I have asked yours,” said Flora, as if it were a great effort. “You don’t + know what to say—I shall do what I see to be the only way to rest.” + </p> + <p> + “I do know what to say,” said Ethel; “and that is, do as the Prayer-book + tells you, in any perplexity.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not perplexed,” said Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t say so. This is either the station to which God has called you, or + it is not.” + </p> + <p> + “He never called me to it.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don’t know whether you ought to leave it. If you ought not, you + would be ten times more miserable. Go to Richard, Flora—he belongs + to you as much as I—he has authority besides.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard!” + </p> + <p> + “He is the clearest of us all in practical matters,” said Ethel, + preventing what she feared would be disparaging. “I don’t mean only that + you should ask him about this Parliament matter alone; but I am sure you + would be happier and more settled if you talked things over with him + before—before you go to church.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what you propose.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Ethel, growing bolder. “You have been going all this time by + feeling. You have never cleared up, and got to the bottom of, your + troubles.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not talk to any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to any one but a clergyman. Now, to enter on such a thing is most + averse to your nature; and I do believe that, for that very reason, it + would be what would do you most good. You say you have recovered sense of—Oh, + Flora! I can’t talk of what you have gone through; but if you have only a + vague feeling that seems as if lying still would be the only way to keep + it, I don’t think it can be altogether sound, or the ‘quiet conscience’ + that is meant.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ethel! Ethel! I have never told you what I have undergone, since I + knew my former quietness of conscience was but sleep! I have gone on in + agony, with the sense of hypocrisy and despair, because I was afraid, for + George’s sake, to do otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + Ethel felt herself utterly powerless to advise; and, after a kind sound of + sympathy, sat shocked, pondering on what none could answer; whether this + were, indeed, what poor Flora imagined, or whether it had been a + holding-fast to the thread through the darkness. The proud reserve was the + true evil, and Ethel prayed and trusted it might give way. + </p> + <p> + She went very amiably to Whitford with George, and gained great credit + with him, for admiring the prettiest speckled Hamburgh present; indeed, + George was becoming very fond of “poor Ethel,” as he still called her, and + sometimes predicted that she would turn out a fine figure of a woman after + all. + </p> + <p> + Ethel heard, on her return, that Richard had been there; and three days + after, when Flora was making arrangements for going to church, a moment of + confidence came over her, and she said, “I did it, Ethel! I have spoken to + Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad!” + </p> + <p> + “You were right. He is as clear as he is kind,” said Flora; “he showed me + that, for George’s sake, I must bear with my present life, and do the best + I can with it, unless some leading comes for an escape; and that the + glare, and weariness, and being spoken well of, must be taken as + punishment for having sought after these things.” + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid he would say so,” said Ethel. “But you will find happiness + again, Flora dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely—before I come to Margaret and to my child,” sighed Flora. + “I suppose it was Mercy that would not let me follow when I wished it. I + must work till the time of rest comes!” + </p> + <p> + “And your own little Margaret will cheer you!” said Ethel, more hopefully, + as she saw Flora bend over her baby with a face that might one day be + bright. + </p> + <p> + She trusted that patient continuance in well-doing would one day win peace + and joy, even in the dreary world that poor Flora had chosen. + </p> + <p> + For her own part, Ethel found Flora’s practical good sense and sympathy + very useful, in her present need of the counsel she had always had from + Margaret. + </p> + <p> + The visit to Flora lasted a fortnight, and Ethel was much benefited by the + leisure for reading and the repose after the long nursing; though, before + the end, her refreshed energies began to pine for Daisy and her hymns, for + Aubrey and his Virgil, for Cherry and her scholars, and, above all, for + her father; for, come as often as he would, it was not papa at home. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, Mary was at a loss for Ethel every hour; Richard was + putting off his affairs till Ethel should come home; Miss Bracy and + Blanche longed for her to relieve the schoolroom from the children; Aubrey + could not perform a lesson in comfort with any one else—never ended + a sum without groaning for Ethel, and sometimes rode to Abbotstoke for the + mere purpose of appealing to her; in short, no one could get on without + her, and the doctor least of all. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Spencer, and Mr. Wilmot, and all his sons and daughters, had done + their best for him; but, in spite of his satisfaction at seeing the two + sisters so happy together, he could not help missing Ethel every minute, + as the very light of his home; and when, at last, Flora brought her back, + she was received with uproarious joy by Aubrey and Daisy, while the rest + of the household felt a revival and refreshment of spirits—the first + drawing aside of the cloud that had hung over the winter. The pearl of + their home might be missed every hour, but they could thankfully rest in + the trust that she was a jewel stored up in safety and peace, to shine as + a star for evermore. + </p> + <p> + A few weeks more, and there were other partings, sad indeed, yet cheery. + Dr. May told Mrs. Arnott that, though he grieved that so much of sorrow + had come to dim her visit, he could not but own that it was the very time + when her coming could be most comforting; and this, as she truly said, was + satisfaction enough for her, besides that she could not rejoice enough + that her arrival had been in time to see their dear Margaret. She should + carry away most precious recollections; and she further told Dr. Spencer + that she was far more comfortable about her brother-in-law, than if she + had only known him in his youthful character, which had seemed so little + calculated to bear sorrow or care. She looked at him now only to wonder + at, and reverence the change that had been gradually wrought by the + affections placed above. + </p> + <p> + Norman and his wife went with her—the one grave but hopeful, the + other trying to wile away the pain of parting, by her tearful mirth—making + all sorts of odd promises and touching requests, between jest and earnest, + and clinging to the last to her dear father-in-law, as if the separation + from him were the hardest of all. + </p> + <p> + “Well, humming-birds must be let fly!” said he at last. “Ah! ha! Meta, are + they of no use?” + </p> + <p> + “Stay till you hear!” said Meta archly—then turning back once more. + “Oh! how I have thanked you, Ethel, for those first hints you gave me how + to make my life real. If I had only sat still and wished, instead of + trying what could be done as I was, how unhappy I should have been!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, take your sprite away, Norman, if you don’t want me to keep her for + good! God bless you, my dear children! Good-bye! Who knows but when Doctor + Tom sets up in my place, Ethel and I may come out and pay you a visit?” + </p> + <p> + It had all been over for some weeks, and the home-party had settled down + again into what was likely to be their usual course, excepting in the + holidays, to which the doctor looked forward with redoubled interest, as + Tom was fast becoming a very agreeable and sensible companion; for his + moodiness had been charmed away by Meta, and principle was teaching him + true command of temper. He seemed to take his father as a special charge, + bequeathed to him by Norman, and had already acquired that value and + importance at home which comes of the laying aside of all self-importance. + </p> + <p> + It was a clear evening in March, full of promise of spring, and Ethel was + standing in the church porch at Cocksmoor, after making some visits in the + parish, waiting for Richard, while the bell was ringing for the Wednesday + evening service, and the pearly tints of a cloudless sunset were fading + into the western sky. + </p> + <p> + Ethel began to wonder where Norman might be looking at the sun dipping + into the western sea, and thence arose before her the visions of her + girlhood, when she had first dreamt of a church on Cocksmoor, and of + Richard ministering before a willing congregation. So strange did the + accomplishment seem, that she even touched the stone to assure herself of + the reality; and therewith came intense thanksgiving that the work had + been taken out of her hands, to be the more fully blessed and accomplished—that + is, as far as the building went; as to the people, there was far more + labour in store, and the same Hand must be looked to for the increase. + </p> + <p> + For herself, Ethel looked back and looked on. Norman Ogilvie’s marriage + seemed to her to have fixed her lot in life, and what was that lot? Home + and Cocksmoor had been her choice, and they were before her. Home! but her + eyes had been opened to see that earthly homes may not endure, nor fill + the heart. Her dear father might, indeed, claim her full-hearted devotion, + but, to him, she was only one of many. Norman was no longer solely hers; + and she had begun to understand that the unmarried woman must not seek + undivided return of affection, and must not set her love, with exclusive + eagerness, on aught below, but must be ready to cease in turn to be first + with any. Ethel was truly a mother to the younger ones; but she faced the + probability that they would find others to whom she would have the second + place. To love each heartily, to do her utmost for each in turn, and to be + grateful for their fondness, was her call; but never to count on their + affection as her sole right and inalienable possession. She felt that this + was the probable course, and that she might look to becoming comparatively + solitary in the course of years—then tried to realise what her + lonely life might be, but broke off smiling at herself, “What is that to + me? What will it be when it is over? My course and aim are straight on, + and He will direct my paths. I don’t know that I shall be alone, and I + shall have the memory—the communion with them, if not their + presence. Some one there must be to be loved and helped, and the poor for + certain. Only I must have my treasure above, and when I think what is + there, and of—Oh! that bliss of being perfectly able to praise—with + no bad old self to mar the full joy of giving thanks, and blessing, and + honour, and power! Need I dread a few short years?—and they have not + begun yet—perhaps they won’t—Oh! here is actually papa coming + home this way! how delightful! Papa, are you coming to church here?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Ethel. That weathercock of Spencer’s is a magnet, I believe! It draws + me from all parts of the country to hear Richard in St. Andrew’s Church.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Daisy Chain, by Charlotte Yonge + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DAISY CHAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 3610-h.htm or 3610-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/3610/ + +Produced by Sandra Laythorpe, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |